by Kat Addams
Well, she had told herself that she couldn’t wait until Friday. At least she was honest with herself. Why wait? She had eleven days left with Chris. She was going to have to spend at least eleven of them in bed.
“That is certainly better than the spastic brows, but I think I’ll take them both. Show me again how you flirt. Flirt real hard for me,” he said as he sat on the bench and pulled Klara on top of his lap.
The hallway was quiet, save for the echoing soft moans escaping Klara’s mouth. She looked around, nervous that anyone could pop out of one of the rooms. All the doors were closed, and by the looks of it, no one had been up here in a while. There was even a faint layer of dust on the floor.
“Shh,” he said, sensing her anxiousness. “We’ll be able to hear the stairs creaking if anyone comes up.”
Klara nodded her head, reassured, and went back to his lips. She could feel him harden underneath her as she straddled his lap. She rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing her clit against the length of his hard cock.
Her panties were starting to get wet as he whispered into her ear, “You want me to fuck you in this whorehouse, Klara? Would you like that? Can you come for me like you’re my dirty little whore?”
And that was all he needed to say before she was back in ravenous mode.
Who knew I liked dirty talk so much? If anyone else ever called her a whore, she would usually cut them, but Chris … oh, she loved being Chris’s whore. Whore, girlfriend, wife—she’d take it. Take him. And she did.
Chris fumbled with his pants zipper, pulled himself out, and hastily slipped a rubber over his throbbing cock. Klara lifted up as he pulled her skirt up and pushed her panties to the side, and then she guided herself back down onto him. He let out a moan as she leaned down to kiss him again. His hands gripped her hips, pulling them into him and pushing them back out. Showing her the pace he liked. She circled her hips, watching him start to lose himself. Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have his way with her. He needed to have her up against the wall.
He picked her up, grabbing her ass hard as he walked her over to the wall. Her arms and legs wrapped around him as he thrust against her. Klara moaned loudly. Her mouth inches from his. Chris put his hand over her mouth and saw her eyes roll back.
“You’re so fucking hot. I’m so glad you’re mine. All mine,” he said, slamming into her over and over. “I want you to come for me, okay?” he whispered, his hand still on her mouth, keeping her from getting too loud and giving them away. Their moans were stifled as he buried his mouth into her neck, biting her while she dug her heels into his hips.
Chris caught the look in her eyes. The same look she’d made last night right before she reached orgasm. He could fill her gripping his cock. She was almost there.
“Come for me, Klara. I want to feel us dripping down your thighs. God, you feel so fucking good. I fucking love the way you pulse around me. You’re so warm. So wet. I’m going to lose myself in you, my sweet girl.”
She bit down hard on his hand as he felt her inner muscles tighten and release in waves. His rock-hard cock erupted inside her, matching her rhythm again. Their bodies were in sync as they pushed themselves into the wall. Exhausted, spent, and a little disoriented, they both started to giggle.
“Thanks for the dessert!” he said as he steadied himself against the wall.
Klara’s knees were shaking as she clumsily made her way back to the bench.
“That … was my pleasure. Wow, dirty whore, huh? Damn. Where did that even come from?”
“I’m so sorry! Did that offend you? I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought … well, we were here, and you’d seemed to like it when I was talking dirty last night … I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
Klara laughed as she got to her feet and made her way over to him. She placed her hand on him, cupping him through his jeans.
“Actually, I did like it. I’m not offended at all! Trust me, if I’m offended, you’ll know about it!”
“I have no doubt in my mind that I will,” he said, still catching his breath.
The crowd was dying down as the two made their way downstairs. Much less drinking and cursing and more moans and laments of gastrointestinal regrets. The breath of fresh air as they stepped outside was a relief.
“Ahh, sunshine and blue skies! Where to next, my little tour guide?” He winked. Again.
She was going to have to put some sunglasses on him to block his gaze that seemed to look straight into her soul. Can he see my soul? Am I wearing my heart on my sleeve—again? She suddenly seemed uncomfortable. What if he can tell how I feel? His deep stare made her face feel awkward. Am I doing something crazy with my eyes? Is my face twitching?
She would have to put on sunglasses for herself to hide behind.
“Are you okay?” Chris said, his head cocked to the side like a good puppy, wondering what trickery this was. “Are you flirting again, Ms. Eyebrows?”
“Ah, nope. Had something in my eye. Let’s go! I’ve got just the place for us!” Klara took her gigantic bug-eye sunglasses out of her glove compartment and put them on. Half of her face was now covered up. She felt invisible.
There’s no way his eyes can penetrate these glasses! Penetrate … Chris …
She shook her head to try to get rid of her naughty thoughts and headed out to give Chris a tour of her city. What she really had in mind was no more stupid ideas, like going to the brothel. What was I thinking? Of course that would be sexy. Sneakily fucking in the open in a closed-off section, upstairs in an old brothel? Um, yes, please!
She had to slow down and try to be more hospitable and less slutty. So, naturally, she took him to the old cemetery. What could be sexy about that? She was sure there would be no hanky-panky-spanky when they had the heebie-jeebies, and she was right. Both of them found themselves immersed in so many stories of local legends that they forgot the time. The sun was already setting by the time they returned to the car.
“Wow. Thanks for taking me here! That was amazing! I got a lot of good information out of that. I’m going to be up all night, writing.”
“It was my pleasure, Chris. I’ve actually been writing more, too. You’ve been good for me. In so many ways,” Klara said, wiggling her eyebrows again and making them both burst into laughter.
Chris was amazed at how someone could be so beautiful, so smart, and so funny, all rolled into one package. He was a little taken aback at the awe he’d experienced throughout the day. It was perfect. The greasy dive bar/bordello had been amazing; the sneaky, knee-quivering sex had been mind-blowing; the flirty banter during the car ride had been playful; and even the sun setting over the headstones in a creepy, old cemetery had ended the day beautifully. Klara was perfect. They were perfect. No, wait, what?
He couldn’t let this train of thought cross his path. She was perfect, yes, but she was also here … and soon, he would be there. And then what? He would go to another city, find another muse, carry on. The show must go on. But did it? He didn’t want another muse. He just wanted Klara and all her quirky, stubborn-as-fuck, dripping sarcasm; her magnificent ass; her head-in-the-clouds, OCD self. But he couldn’t have her. Or could he? Hell, who knew? He’d never tried a long-distance relationship, and he wasn’t even sure if that was what she wanted. These feelings were all new to him. He felt old, worn out, and exhausted from the ton of bricks that he’d sweetly named limerence. Just limerence.
“I’ve got another proposition for you,” Chris said as he tapped his chin in dramatic thought.
“Another one, huh? So, we’re all caught up on our last one though, right? I showed you around; you’ve helped me with my writing.”
“All caught up. This is something new. A goal, so to speak. You and I can hold each other accountable in our writing. Let’s say, three thousand words a day. Minimum.”
“That’s a lot!”
“It’s summer break; you don’t have school. And I can help you with your work in the gardens if you’d like. I
wouldn’t mind another trip to see that old cougar Ms. May anyway.”
“I guess I can try.”
“Try? You’re a writer, Klara. You just need to believe it yourself. Do you want to write together? Remember, we’re supposed to be kicking ass on our project as part of the two-week deal.”
Crap, Chris thought. He really was a stage five clinger. Maybe even a stage nine right now. But he just couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to feel that sadness again when she left, and it was only two weeks. He could do two weeks and move on to the next city, the next muse.
“Klara,” he continued, “we can be each other’s muses.”
“Muse, huh? I bet you call all the girls your muse,” she said, halfway joking, halfway not. She meant, he had to have a ton of women all over the place. Look at him! He was gorgeous, successful, fun, flirty, and the way he’d whispered filthy things in her ear made her heart fall into her stomach when she thought about it. Like now.
Crap! Those are butterflies!
Klara hadn’t had that butterfly feeling in years. She’d forgotten that feeling.
Busted, Chris thought as his face reddened. Thankfully, they had just pulled up to the hotel lobby. He ran his hands through his hair, fidgeting.
“Maybe a few here and there.” He grinned, putting his hand on the lever to open the door and run as soon as she stopped the car. He didn’t want to have to explain. “But none have amused me like you do, Klara.” He winked.
Not the damn wink, she thought.
“I see what you did there. Clever, Chris—hey! There’s a nickname idea!”
“Really? Just Clever Chris? That’s not really sexy.” He frowned.
“You think Farmer John is a sexy nickname? You should hear my other ones! I think you did pretty well. But, if you don’t like it … I guess I can—”
“Do better. You can do better! I’ll have to give you more material, I guess,” Chris said as he wiggled his eyebrows and hopped out of the car.
Klara erupted in a fit of laughter. His dark eyebrows looked like two caterpillars trying to do a really awkward mating dance on his forehead. She thought she’d better not tell him that though.
“Okay, okay. I’ll keep trying. When are we writing?”
“Tomorrow, after class. Does that work?” he said, leaning down and peering through the rolled-down window.
By this time, it was nightfall, and Klara had given up on hiding her expressions behind her glasses.
I’m going to need a Xanax to calm my face if he keeps this up. She rubbed her eyes, pretending to be tired.
“I’ll be there.” She yawned.
“Good night, Klara.” Chris bowed like a gentleman as he gently shut the door.
“Good night, Chris,” she called back, pulling away.
The now-familiar sadness crushed down on her. She checked the rearview mirror and saw Chris’s shoulders slump as he walked through the lobby doors.
six
The days passed by too fast for Klara’s liking. She and Chris had developed a sort of routine ever since their outing to the brothel and around town. Each morning after class, she and Chris would sneak off to the corner coffee shop to sit across from each other and write their novels. They’d both order their lattes, pop in their headphones, and race to see who could get the most writing done before lunchtime.
“On your mark …” Klara narrowed her eyes, challenging Chris from across the table.
“Get set …” he said, shooting the look right back to her.
“Go!” She giggled, already starting ahead of time.
“Cheater!” he called her out.
Klara pretended not to hear him over the sad indie music playing in her ears. The scene she was working on involved a very tragic death. She liked to tailor her music to her moods when she was writing, and this one was really bothering her. A far step down from the gangster rap that had been blaring in her ears yesterday while she wrote about a shoot-out and also a much different approach than Chris’s never-ending classical piano playlist.
Chris’s foot nudged Klara’s under the table. Both smiling but neither looking up from their computers. They had spent the last few days enjoying this routine. Class, coffee, writing, dirty sex, lunch, and then Klara would go off to work, leaving Chris to get out and explore the city, solo. She was working the shop this week but eager to have her hands in the dirt again. Ms. May would probably give her an ass chewing for not coming around lately, but Klara had been a bit preoccupied. Not only with Sexy McSexserson, but she had also been making real progress on her book. She was finally beginning to feel like an adult—or at least like she could get away with pretending to know what she was doing.
Although Klara was getting plenty of sexy time with Chris, she hadn’t stayed the night again since that first time. She knew the familiar sadness would hit her as soon as they parted ways, and falling asleep next to him was just a cruel tease of what she couldn’t have. Chris hadn’t exactly offered either, which, she had to admit, bothered her a bit.
She wondered what that was all about. Is he keeping me at a distance, too, or is it something more practical? Like does he snore? Does he sleep-fart? Ew. One of her exes was bad about that. She had gone to bed every night with a stink face when she was with him. He was a symphony of sounds. Toots and blows and honks out of every end.
She looked up and caught Chris’s gaze. Is he falling too fast and too hard, too? Does he feel like I feel? And, if he does, why doesn't he say something, damn it? We’re all adults here. Even if one of us has his shit together and is adultier than the other. Klara’s shit wasn’t together at all, even with all the alarms and calendars—which, she realized, didn’t make a damn bit of difference in her life when she gave that up. She still didn’t live in the moment even if she’d promised Chris she would these two weeks. She was in the future, small, shivering, and wrapped up in her anxiety burrito. The sad times without him were getting harder and harder. How would she feel when he was gone for good?
Chris took his headphones out and gave Klara a little wave as he tried to get her attention. “Hey, Miss Best-Seller. How’s it coming along over there?”
“Really great actually! You? Ready to compare notes? See who is the loser this round? Loser gets … what, tied up?”
“Well, in that case, let me delete some of this,” Chris said, pretending to type away on his keyboard before shutting his laptop completely. “I win.”
“We haven’t counted! You cheat! Let me see it!”
“I only have two words! I promise!” Chris joked.
“Fine, but tomorrow, I’m only writing two. Same prize,” Klara said, trying to look serious but failing miserably at it.
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Tomorrow …” Chris hesitated.
“Yeah?” Klara sat up, eager to know where this was going.
“It can be good or bad news. Your choice.”
Klara’s heart dropped. What is this all about? I’m enjoying our routine, and now, he is going to mess it all up? Or make it better? Good or bad? My choice? It didn’t make sense. No one started out a conversation like that unless it was bad.
Chris ran his hands through his hair and sighed, clearly struggling to deliver the information. “I’ve got to go back home this weekend. I have some urgent papers that need to be signed for my dad’s retirement accounts. Apparently, they can’t wait.”
“Okay.” Klara shut her laptop. The dread and gloom were already suffocating her. “What do you mean by it being my choice? I guess that’s a good thing. These papers?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Although, yeah, it’s a good thing. What I’m asking you is, will you go with me? Beach trip to clear your mind? And get even more work done on your novel. Remember the deal? Live in the moment.” He crossed his legs under the table, and his fingers crossed behind his back. He really wanted her to come. He needed her to come. He was completely wound up in limerence—the healthier L-word. If he could focus on this spark bei
ng limerence, not Klara, then that would make things easier when he really did have to leave for good.
“It really doesn’t take much convincing for me to go to the beach, ya know. Let’s do it.”
“Phew. Good. I already got you a ticket. We leave tomorrow at noon.”
Klara’s jaw dropped. That was either an incredibly stupid move or an incredibly romantic move. What if she had said no? Yeah, right!
He hasn’t even known me long, yet he totally understands me. He gets me. He loves me? She shook the thought out of her head. She was beginning to think she was a little crazy. She didn't want to be the crazy girlfriend.
Girlfriend? Ugh! Klara couldn’t stop her train of thought.
She had been having so much fun the last week and didn’t want it to stop. She wanted to be his.
“Does this mean our hot date night is canceled?”
“This means, our hot date night will be on the beach, watching the sunset. But, no, date night in Memphis isn’t canceled. It’s just postponed. Next week, before I leave.” His voice trailed off. Before he left. For good.
Limerence.
“I’ll double-check that I can get someone to cover for me at the shop, but I think I should be able to pull it off,” Klara said, trying to focus on the beach trip and not on next Friday. Date night. How could she have a good date night the night before he left? She was going to be a mess! Maybe she would end up “sick” and not have to deal with good-byes. She would have to think of all that when the time came. For now, she had emotions to bottle up and a beach trip to pack for.
Chris didn’t have the typical bachelor’s pad. The art that hung on his walls was actual art and not posters of scantily clad women or abstract race-car parts. There were no beer bottles or pizza boxes strewed about. Nothing smelled funny. Everything was clean, beautiful, breathtaking even. Klara had known he did well in his career, but she’d had no idea he did this well. She felt a little out of place and exposed in such a bright, open space.
“Wow, Chris! This place is gorgeous,” Klara said, still standing inside the entryway and taking in her surroundings.