by Lena Fox
I checked the clock. It was only ten p.m., two hours after I’d gotten home from the beach. It was a Friday night. Not too late.
I changed, grabbed my keys, and headed for Blake’s house without a second thought.
I pulled into his driveway. The lights were out and I stood there, feeling like a jerk. Blake deserved better than this. He deserved better than me.
As I turned away, his door opened. The lights inside were down but the TV was still on, and Blake looked at me, confused. He wore loose track pants, his chest was bare and I ran into it, my tear-stained face pressed tightly against the strong breadth of him.
His arms went around me and held fast. I knew I should pull away. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t done anything to deserve getting caught up with another woman who would probably do nothing but die badly.
There was a time when he had just wanted to get laid and had found my list interesting.
I hoped he found the last item on the list interesting too.
Chapter Fifteen
BLAKE
“You’ve got to be joking me.” The words that had just come out of her mouth floored me, especially after the day we had spent at the beach. When I thought she’d finally accepted us. I’d never imagined she was still thinking about that damned list.
Only, she was.
She’d shown up on my doorstep, dressed for a night out just hours after we’d made love to the sound of crashing waves and she’d agreed to call what we had a relationship.
Her face was pale but determined. “I need to do this. It’s the last thing on my list.”
“It’s fucking two dudes!”
She flinched but held her ground. “Why are you so horrified? You didn’t have any problem with bringing Mary home.”
“I just want a relationship with only you and me.” That seemed reasonable. Not that I wanted to be reasonable at that exact second. She’d just announced she wanted sex with other men and suggested I was homophobic all in the same breath. I was stunned by fury.
I didn’t want to share her. The thing with Mary had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wasn’t into that, that what I wanted, who I wanted, was Georgina and only Georgina.
“I’m going to do it. I have to. I can’t leave things like this.” Her eyes showed white all around the irises, and her lips shivered.
I knew girls who would do all the things on her list, and some who already had. Some of the girls who hung around backstage at concerts. They were the ones who always wanted people to know who they fucked, and exactly how they’d fucked them. They counted their conquests not in numbers but by deed. I didn’t think that was the real Georgina—not really. I hoped the fear in her eyes proved me right.
It was clear she was scared, shaken to her bones. Lavender-colored circles ringed her dark eyes. Her new short hair made her neck look long and somehow frail. I could hear the tremble of her breath rush over her lips, and wanted to kiss her gorgeous mouth until she forgot about that last thing on her bucket list. That fucking list. I thought it was over, that we could bury it by checking off an older, more innocent list. I thought we could move on.
“Why, why now? After today?”
She just shook her head. “Come with me, then we just need to pick up one guy. We can do it together, like before.” Every word was rushed, rambling.
I ran a hand over my face, unable to even comprehend. “No. Fuck no. How can you even ask me this? I won’t. Georgie, please …”
“Then I’ll do it without you.”
She turned and left without another word. She dashed to her car and sped off into the night.
My fist hit the wall beside the door, going straight through the plasterboard. Fuck. Fuck her and her list. I was sick of playing a body part in her little soap opera. It was clear she would never think of me as anything more, and I wasn’t going to break my heart again over some girl who didn’t give a shit about me or even about herself.
Chapter Sixteen
GEORGINA
Desperation and mortal terror took the wheel and I ended up in the parking lot of the club that had been my original hunting ground for The List. I almost went in there, but the twang of guitar and a mellow voice filled with sadness reached me from the other side of the road. It drew me in, singing to the pain in my heart.
I stormed across the street into the country and western joint, sat at the bar and downed three shots in a row. Fury blurred my thoughts as much as the alcohol, but even then, I knew I was about to do the dumbest thing I have ever done. And I barely cared.
I only cared about completion. As though if I finished my list, everything would be okay.
Completion was the only thing I had left to cling to. I had to scratch that last item off my list—I had to. It was as though crossing it out would cross out all the pain I’d ever known, would stop the ticking time bomb inside me in its tracks. Black slugs, eating me from the inside out …
With dry, sore, determined eyes, I scanned the club. Men drank at the bar made of old fence palings, men played pool, men sat around watching a dog race on a big screen. I was one of very few women in here. This should be easy. From my seat, I spotted two guys sitting in a booth in the darkest corner of the timber-filled space. One was tall, thin, and wearing clothes that would have been better suited to someone twice his weight. They swamped his lanky body but didn’t hide the prominent Adam’s apple or the knobbly bones of his wrists. When he caught me looking he elbowed the guy next to him, gesturing toward me with his head.
His friend had painted-on skinny jeans and a shirt that gave the impression of someone trying to be a cowboy. He had long brown hair and a nice enough face, if it weren’t for how he leered.
I knew those looks they were giving me. They were the same looks I got from the kind of guys who back at school would tease me about being fat while staring at my breasts. I could see even from here they were assholes.
I walked right up to them and sat down at their table.
“Hi. I’m Mary,” I said.
“Rick,” said the wannabe cowboy.
“Austin,” said the other.
“You guys up for a threesome?”
A cynical part of me had learned something these past weeks. I was attractive, attractive enough that most men would at least be willing to have sex with me if offered bluntly. There would always be those who would be shocked, or gentlemanly, or taken, or gay, but otherwise, sex on a plate was as good as sold. Still, it was no mystery why I was as blunt as a knife made of cheddar that night. Deep down, I wanted them to say no to me like the crazy woman I was, to tell me to fuck off.
“You a cop or something?” Austin retorted.
“No, just looking for a good time.” I tried to inject as much sultriness into my voice as possible but it still came out too fast, almost like a final gasp.
“Nah, she’s a hooker.” Rick tilted his beer up, swallowing it down in long gulps. “We don’t pay for pussy. We don’t need to get high either so move along.”
I should have walked away. But the offense of being rejected stung. I wasn’t that same scared, sick girl who got rejected anymore. I couldn’t be her anymore. I had to do this.
I leaned across the table so they could see the deep valley between my breasts and smiled at them both. “I am not a cop or a hooker.” I delivered each word slowly, eyelashes lowered, my lips caressing each sound. “I’m horny, and I want you two guys to fuck me.”
They wore matching looks of shocked disbelief tinged with a lecherous hope. Austin sat his beer bottle, greasy with his fingerprints, down on the table, and gave me a long up and down look. Then gave his friend a long look up and down. Rick shrugged in a clear “what the hell” expression.
“You want two dudes to fuck you? We are two dudes with hard dicks. We can make this happen. Shit, we even have a room out back tonight.” He clinked his drink with his friend’s, laughed, then paused. “We can go one at a time, right?” he asked.
“Together. All at once, or no deal.
”
There was fear in their eyes as they looked at each other. Eagerness too, but fear to be the first to say yes. I arched my back and ran my fingers across the top of my cleavage.
“Fhhhuuuhhhuck,” Austin breathed out. “All right. I’m game. You game?”
“Dude.” Rick slammed back the rest of his beer. “Fine, I’m in. Need another drink first.”
The guys bought a round of shots. I tossed mine back, needing the numbness the whiskey brought to push me along to my goal.
I didn’t sit down, eager to move things along. Rick scooted closer to me and put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down the bare flesh. My first instinct was to push him away. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with him, except that he wasn’t Blake.
Screw Blake. I’d asked him to do this with me and he refused.
My jaw shook, and I clenched my teeth to hold it still. I could do this with someone else. I could. I would.
The List Georgina is brave Georgina. The List Georgina says yes.
Rick’s fingers were cold. They pressed so far into my muscles that they ached, no gentleness at all—only hunger. It made my breath catch.
The shots had hit my system and my thoughts blurred. I walked away from the table. Rick caught me, pulled me back the other way. “Where ya going?” he slurred as his fingers twisted into the bottom hem of my dress, brushing against my panties.
Where was I going? My body had moved first, but then my mind caught up.
I was leaving. I’d changed my mind. I couldn’t do this. I wanted to go back to Blake.
My insides were at war, each side violent and panicking. Go back to Blake, or get The List finished?
I have to finish it. This is my last chance. Tomorrow might never come.
I let Rick and Austin lead me to the rear exit, each of them with an arm around me, supporting me between them. The more the alcohol ran through my blood, the more it made sense that if I just finished that list everything would somehow right itself.
Yet everything felt so wrong.
Out the back was a long expanse of weedy, derelict alleyway. Cars with flat tires rusted against the curbs, and stray dogs huddled below the scant orange glow of flickering streetlights. The apartments behind the bar were seedy, broken-down wrecks. Their red-brick walls were covered in graffiti. The thought of going into one of those dwellings made my stomach churn.
The thought of being with these two men made it worse.
But I wasn’t backing down.
Chapter Seventeen
GEORGINA
The lights went on. Dazzled, my sore eyes took a moment to adjust. We were in a living room. It stunk of moldy food. Fast food containers crowded the counters, and empty beer cans tumbled from the sink. The smell made me gag.
Austin sat on the couch and pulled me onto his lap. His bony knees struck my ass cheeks, and I could feel he was already hard, his firmness nudging against my flesh as he massaged my hips with his hands. He licked my neck.
I cringed away.
“Come on, this is what we’re here for. Don’t be a prick tease,” he whispered near my mouth, his beer breath filling my throat.
It doesn’t matter if they are gross. We just need to do what needs to be done.
I stayed on his lap.
“Have another drink, that’ll get you going,” Rick said, appearing with a can of beer in each hand. He pushed one open can into my hand and it sloshed out the top, all over my dress.
I gasped and they both laughed at me. Austin started patting me down, being completely conspicuous about groping my breasts at the same time, a huge grin dripping from his face. He took the opportunity to tweak my nipple.
“Bags the top end,” Rick said. “Those lips are so fuckable.”
“Fine by me. I’m ready for some of this big booty.” Austin pushed me over so I flopped across the arm of the sofa, exposing my ass to him, which he then slapped hard.
Austin slid my dress up over my hips and Rick came around in front of me, his belt buckle rattling in my face as he worked it open.
I tried to relax into it. To get into the mood.
This isn’t right. This isn’t me. This isn’t Blake. I don’t want this.
I felt tears welling up. Big, messy, snotty, tears.
The List Georgina is brave … The List … says yes …
NO.
I didn’t care what fantasy I’d imagined when I’d added this item to my list. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want this. Not anymore.
I pushed their grabbing hands off me. “Stop. I’ve changed my mind.”
They didn’t stop. They both pawed over me like dogs who’d found a lame possum.
I slapped them away and rolled off the couch. “I’m going.”
Rick stopped, fly half unzipped. “Fucking, what? Are you kidding me?”
“No way, slut, you’re not ringing the dinner bell then walking out on us.” Austin grabbed the back of my dress, wrenching me toward him. I fell roughly, knocking my head on the floor.
“Ow, that hurt!”
They just laughed at me sprawled there. “I think she changed her mind again.”
Rick and Austin fell upon me where I lay in the middle of the room. Hands were up my dress and down my dress. Too many hands. The wrong hands. I screamed.
Chapter Eighteen
Blake
I paced over worn carpet, dumped myself on the crackly old couch, then paced, replaying the whole conversation over and over, torturing myself. Was I overreacting? Was I being too prudish or jealous or trying to own her? Why did it hurt so damn much?
How dare she even ask that of me?
I’d known it was on her list right from the beginning. Shouldn’t I have expected it? Or was I always too fixated on the ‘sex with a woman’ part to think of it reaching this point? What did that make me?
My eyes ached and I grabbed my hair with both hands, making fists against my scalp.
I should have given up trying to make this anything more than just about her sex list. I should have given up on her long ago.
But I just couldn’t let go.
And deep under all my anger, fear sloshed around, slimy and rotten. Fear for Georgina.
My pride stung, still feeling the slap of Georgina’s rejection. I wasn’t going to go after her. I refused.
“No!” I yelled it at the front door, as though it was trying to convince me to go.
Georgina would have to look after herself. She’d made it clear she didn’t want or need me. Just like Seyvia did.
I had given up on Seyvia, and that decision had haunted me every day since.
Shit.
I threw on a jacket and boots, grabbed my keys and helmet, and headed out into the night.
Speeding along the quiet night-time roads, cold air reached its fingers through the gaps in my jacket, chilling the bare skin beneath. My teeth chattered—anxiety shook my core. I headed first for the bar where we’d picked up Mary, but I couldn’t spot Jiminy in any of the streets nearby. I tried another local club, then headed for the one where we’d first met. That was where I saw her little green hatchback, bright against the other black-and-white cars in the lot. I jumped off my bike and headed in. The bouncer looked disapprovingly at my track pants and motorcycle jacket combo, but my expression was all I had to wear for him to let me in.
Pushing through the crowd, I got more than one filthy look as I checked through the strobe-lit corners and smoke-filled dance floor. She wasn’t there.
She’s already gone home with someone.
I didn’t want to believe that. I had to keep looking.
Back outside, the flashing red sign over the old saloon-style building across the road caught my eye. Maybe she’d gone there instead.
She’s with someone else right now. Two someone elses.
Denial sent me into the country and western bar. I kept telling myself I still had a chance to find her. I’d keep looking all night.
I didn’t have to. As s
oon as I stepped in far enough to hear the line dancers stomping the floor, I saw her. I saw her disappearing out a back door with two men.
My charge toward her was caught by the bouncer. He had followed me in through the entrance where I’d walked right by him. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Dude, dress code.”
“I’m just here to get my girl. I won’t be long.”
“Mate, that’s what every bloke is here for, and it can take a lot longer than you’d hope. Especially dressed like that. Out.”
I threw his hand off my shoulder, and he reached for something at his hip. It could have been pepper spray or a taser or a gun for all I knew. Fucking Americans.
I put my hands up in a peace gesture. “I’m leaving.”
She wasn’t here anymore anyway. I had to be able to get around the back some other way. I jogged out the entrance and around the building, a trashy side alley leading up to a strip of equally trashy rental rooms. I couldn’t see Georgina or the men anywhere.
But I could hear her.
She screamed.
I raced to where the sound came from and put my boot through the door. The decayed wood burst open.
The scene before me made white-hot rage fill my head, burning from my eyes like molten steel.
Georgina lay on the ground as those two men, those beasts, clutched and tore at her as violently as walking dead hungered for flesh.
My charge into the room drew their attention, but I only saw Georgina’s eyes look up and meet mine. They were red with confusion and fear, slick with tears.
One man came at me. My fist flew into his nose with vicious glee.