by N. S. Moore
***
Nick lived in a gorgeous loft apartment downtown. It must have cost a fortune, so he’d clearly done very well for himself in the intervening time I couldn’t remember. I wondered how that had happened, but I didn’t ask. The place he took me to had high ceilings, wide-planked hardwood floors, a vast wall of windows, expensive furnishings, and even a big terrace.
I loved it. I would have loved to live here.
He gave me a bottle of water and then showed me into a small second bedroom. “You can stay in here. How are you feeling? Do you want to take a nap?”
I wanted to do something constructive to recover my memories, but there wasn’t anything I could do. And I was utterly exhausted after a mostly sleepless night, so I took him up on the offer.
I slept deeply for a couple of hours until he came to wake me up, saying I shouldn’t sleep too long because of the head injury.
The afternoon and evening passed in a blur. I watched TV and took it easy, trying to recover, and Nick kept asking me how I was and if my memory was returning.
It wasn’t returning.
We had soup and sandwiches for dinner, and I kept observing him over the dinner table.
He’d been careful and gentle with me all day, but there was more going on behind his eyes that I didn’t know about. He had a kind of depth that I easily recognized, that attracted me even more than his looks.
He’d always had depth. I’d sensed it even when I was young. But he seemed even deeper now—and what was hidden was rough, dark, almost dangerous.
I liked it. I wanted to know it even more.
I wondered if he really was dangerous. Then I wondered why I liked the idea so much.
Had I become the kind of girl to be attracted to bad boys in the last three years? Or was it just something about Nick I couldn’t resist?
It was such a strange feeling—not knowing even that much. But what did it matter, anyway?
I had this hole in my life. I could fall for bad boys if I wanted to now, even if I never had before.
Maybe it was the blow to the head, but I kept wanting to touch him, to kiss him, to do other things to him. But evidently we weren’t together, so it wasn’t like I could just reach over and do it.
Or maybe I could. Why couldn’t I be a girl who did that?
As I finished eating, I imagined myself coming on to Nick after dinner, grabbing him, kissing him, tumbling to the floor until we were fucking like animals.
My injuries weren’t really hurting right now, partly thanks to the pain killers they’d prescribed me. I was certainly in a fit state to fuck if I wanted.
And I did want to. I wanted to be someone who would take that kind of risk if she happened to have the inclination.
I was still trying to work through the intensity of the desire when Nick got up to clear the table and rinse out the dishes. I started to help, but he wouldn’t help me, and I lost the nerve to try to make a move on him.
I could remember a good chunk of my life, and in all those years I wouldn’t have done anything so wild and forward. Those instincts die hard, even if you have a huge gap in your memory.
“I’m going to take a shower, I think,” I said at last, deciding I needed to do something.
“That sounds good. You’ll probably want to get to bed early. I’ll have to come wake you up every hour or so to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay.” I wished I was sleeping with him. I felt a little scared and lonely at the thought of spending the night on my own, without any idea who I’d even been yesterday.
Surely I had friends. Wouldn’t they be wondering where I was? I’d have to quiz Nick on that tomorrow. And, if I was at college, there must be classes I would need to go to starting on Monday.
I wondered what classes I was even taking. What if there was a test coming up?
I took a shower and wrapped myself in a towel, wondering what I should wear to sleep in. When I walked back into my room, Nick was standing there holding one of his t-shirts. “You can wear this, if you want.”
I took it, dropping my eyes because I felt suddenly shy. “Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No. I think I’m fine. Thanks for all your help.”
There was another flicker on his expression, but it disappeared before I could name it. “No problem. Get some sleep. Just know I’ll have to wake you up.”
I thought about suggesting it would be a lot easier to wake me up if I just slept with him, but I guess I wasn’t that kind of girl. Yet. I just said, “I know.”
He was starting to leave when I said, “Nick?”
He turned around. He looked strangely stiff, and I didn’t know why. Maybe he didn’t really like me after all. Maybe he just felt sorry for me, and that was why he was helping me out.
I had no idea what to say, now that I’d stopped him. I wanted to be someone different. I didn’t want to feel shy and self-conscious like this. I wanted to be a girl who would just take what she wanted when she wanted it.
He gave his head a rough shake. “We’ll talk more about things in the morning. Get some sleep.”
In spite of everything, I ended up going to sleep right away. I was conscious of Nick coming in a few times to wake me up—asking me some questions and getting me to focus on him—but I must have performed appropriately since he left right away and I fell right back to sleep.
It was still very dark when I woke up for real. My head and bruises weren’t bothering me anymore, and the world felt like a black, empty hole that I was drowning in.
I didn’t know who I was now. I didn’t know how I spent my days. I didn’t know who my friends were or who I trusted or who I dated. I didn’t even know if I was still in love with Nick.
I kept trying to reach with my mind into the darkness, but the block was too immovable, and it hurt too much to even approach it. So eventually I stopped trying.
The only thing I knew was that I’d always been a good girl, and that’s not who I really wanted to be.
I wanted to be someone different. If I was ever going to get a chance to be that different person, this was it.
This was my one shot to reinvent myself—with this gaping hole in my mind to keep old fears and hang-ups from stopping me.
When Nick came into the room the next time, I was wide awake. My eyes were opened when he turned on the bedside lamp.
This obviously surprised him. He stared down at me silently for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asked at last.
“Yeah.”
“How’s your head?”
“The headache is totally gone.”
“Good.”
Nick wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his chest was very fine—strong and masculine with tight, rippling muscles and a scattering of dark hair. The curve of his shoulders and the contours of his arms were mesmerizing. I gazed up at him, desperately wanting to touch them. To touch him.
“Do we ever sleep together?” I heard myself asking.
He blinked. “No.”
“Why not?” I was a little embarrassed by the question, but I pushed through it. I could be anyone I wanted to be right now.
And this was who I wanted to be.
“I told you. I’m not your type.”
“But that’s not true.” I reached up, as if an alien force had taken control of my body, and I slid my hand from his chest down to his abs. I felt his whole body stiffen. “I think you’re definitely my type.”
He took a quick step back, that slight twisting of conflict on his expression, but stronger this time. “You’re confused because of the accident. You’ll think more clearly tomorrow.”
“No, I won’t. I want—“
“Go back to sleep,” he said, almost gruffly. “You’re just confused. Things will make more sense tomorrow.”
Then, to my utter annoyance, he walked out of the room.
I stared at the closed door, breathing heavily and trying to make my mind work.
He was wrong, I realized after a few minute
s. I wasn’t confused. I didn’t have my whole memory, but I was absolutely sure of what I wanted.
I wanted him. I didn’t want to always be a good girl. And this might be my only chance to act on it.
So I climbed out of bed, pulled the t-shirt down over my hips, and went to find his room.
I tapped on the door softly, but I didn’t wait for a response. I just walked in.
He evidently was trying to be a gentleman and resist, so I’d have to make sure he knew what I was offering. So I pulled my t-shirt off over my head as I approached, leaving the door opened so light from outside the room would break the pitch darkness.
“Jenna,” Nick said, sitting up in bed, his voice slightly hoarse. “What are you—?” He broke off when he saw that I was standing beside his bed naked.
“I’m thinking clearly,” I said. “I want this.”
He stared for a long time, his eyes crawling over my breasts, belly, and groin. My body is pretty good—not as tall as I used to want to be and curvier than I would have preferred, but certainly nothing to sneer at.
Nick seemed to appreciate it. Even in the low light, I could see a hunger awaken on his face.
So I asked, “What exactly are you afraid of?”
That seemed to do it. He made a guttural sound in his throat and reached out to pull me into bed, almost roughly.
I whimpered in pleasure as he rolled me over onto my back and moved on top of me. He kissed me hard and deep, and I responded with just as much enthusiasm. I grabbed for his neck and held on tight as his tongue delved into my mouth, stroking and dueling with mine.
My body had come alive beneath his, and I felt a deep pulsing of arousal that made me squirm beneath him.
“Jenna,” he murmured, his mouth breaking from mine at last and moving down to nibble his way along my throat and down to my bare breasts. “What’s gotten into you?”
“What do you mean?” I gasped, arching up as he took one of my nipples between his lips and suckled hard. “I want this. Why shouldn’t I go for it?” As the pleasure spiraled up, I cried out, “Oh God!” and clutched at his thick hair.
“Fuck, you’re so hot. So responsive.” He lifted his head to stare down at me with an animal-like heat in his eyes. “You really do want this.”
“Yeah.” I pressed up into his hands when he cupped my breasts, and I reached out to fumble for purchase on the bedding as he fondled them skillfully. “I do. I want it.”
My response seemed to please him, since he made a low sound in his throat, his eyes never leaving my sprawled body beneath him. “Then tell me exactly what you want.”
I was awash with pleasure and heat and a slight embarrassment, at the knowledge that this wasn’t the way I normally behaved. I didn’t care though. I couldn’t even remember that other girl—the old Jenna. I was this Jenna now. “I want to come,” I said, whimpering as Nick’s hands slid lower down my body. “Please make me come.”
“I will. Spread your legs for me, baby.”
I did as he said, feeling exposed and vulnerable and deeply aroused.
“Farther apart. Show me your pussy.”
I opened my thighs as far as they would go and felt another hot flush as he stared at me possessively.
“You want me to touch you?” he asked, a rough edge to his tone that proved he was really into this. His body was hard with tension and I could see he was just as turned on as me. It just fired me up even more.
“Yeah,” I panted. “Touch me. Please.”
He reached out and stroked me gently with his fingertips, skating gently over my clit.
I cried out at the brief jolt of pleasure.
“Hold your thighs apart as I make you come,” he said, his eyes shifting up to meet my gaze.
I grabbed my thighs and held myself open for him as he readjusted. He teased me for a few minutes, building up my pleasure until I was moaning helplessly. Then he finally sunk two fingers inside me and started to fuck me with them.
“Fuck, you’re so hot and wet and tight,” he muttered. “You want this bad, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I want this so bad. Please make me come.” I sounded helpless, shameless, and I didn’t even care. My body felt like it was out of control, and I liked it that way.
He fucked me with his fingers until I was crying out loudly with need and frustration, begging him to finally send me over the edge. He kept encouraging me on with murmured comments of, “That’s right, baby. Good girl. Show me how much you want this.”
When I couldn’t possibly take anymore, he finally said, “Okay. Come for me now.”
And that was all it took. The tension broke inside me and I was coming so hard I was screaming with it, my body rocking with the waves of pleasure. He was pushing up against my g-spot, and he kept pressing it as the orgasm crested, causing another climax to follow in its wake.
The pleasure lasted longer than I’d thought was possible, and I was gasped hoarsely and completely wiped out at the end of it.
He kept murmuring, “Good girl,” as the thrusting of his fingers slowed. As he pulled them out, he gave me a gentle massage of my clit, causing a mini-orgasm to spiral up and break before I knew what I was happening.
“Oh, fuck,” I panted, sprawled out boneless and deliciously sated when he finally moved his hand.
“Is that what you wanted?” Nick asked, sounding very pleased with himself.
“Oh, yeah.” I reached out for him, trying to pull him down on top of me, but then I saw that conflicted twisting of his face, and he pulled out of my reach. “What?” I demanded. “It’s your turn now.”
Something resolved on his face, and he smiled at me, almost predatorily. “I don’t think so. I think you’ve had all you’re up for tonight.”
I actually was completely exhausted and so sated I just wanted to go to sleep, but part of me was annoyed by his high-handedness. “I’m up for—“
“No, you’re not. I know you better than you know yourself right now, remember? We’re not together, and you’ve had a hard couple of days. I don’t fuck women unless I know for sure that they’re all in.”
“I’m all in.” I said, scowling at him. It was a strange feeling, knowing he might be right but not liking that he was.
His smile changed to something that was almost teasing. “Maybe. But I can’t be sure of that. Why don’t you relax for a minute? I’ll be right back.” He went to the bathroom, where I heard the shower running.
I didn’t argue. I’d had the best orgasm—or series of orgasms—I’d had in my life, as far as I could remember, anyway. My body was fully satisfied, and I felt boneless and compliant. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the afterglow, and I must have fallen asleep, because I could hardly wake up even when Nick returned and carried me to my own bed.
***
I slept in late the following morning and, when I finally woke up, Nick was gone. He’d left me a note saying I could make myself at home and he’d be back mid-afternoon.
I made myself a late breakfast and then settled down to watch TV. I felt aimless and a little lost, without any sense of what I should be doing right now.
I kept thinking about last night—how shamelessly I’d come on to him, how hard he’d made me come, how he’d stopped before I’d had nearly enough. Eventually, the thoughts got me so hot and confused that I had to stop dwelling on it.
I looked through my phone, looking at texts and calls and numbers and wondering which of these people I was really close to.
I didn’t call anyone though. I didn’t know what I would say.
When Nick returned, he quizzed me on what I remembered. He didn’t seem disappointed that I still couldn’t remember anything from the last three years. It was nice. That he wasn’t expecting me to get better all at once.
He said he was going to show me my other job, another side of my life. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went with him willingly enough.
He was the only person right now I trusted. Even my dad seemed very far awa
y, almost a stranger to this new person I’d become.
He would have been hurt and angered if he’d known that his little girl had come onto Nick as strongly as I had last night.
Nick drove me to a different part of town, and then he led me into an establishment called, “Bare Witness.”
It wasn’t sleazy exactly. It was well-kept and trendy, although the only customers here in the middle of a Sunday afternoon looked kind of like losers.
I was absolutely bewildered as I was greeted by name by everyone we passed—bartender, waitress, security, even one of the old guys hanging out at the bar with a beer.
“What are we doing here?” I asked Nick in a whisper. He was watching my face carefully.
“Do you remember anything?”
“About this place? No. Why should I?” I stared with wide eyes as a young woman came out on the stage in a skimpy outfit. She started to dance to the music, and the purpose of her dance was unmistakable.
She was a stripper.
This was a strip club. And everyone seemed to know me here.
“You wanted to know about your second job,” Nick said.
I swallowed hard. “My job is here?”
“Yeah. You dance here a couple of nights a week.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d reached out and walloped me. “What?”
“I told you it was complicated. But you do. You’re one of the dancers here.”
“I’m a stripper. I thought…” I trailed off, trying to get my broken mind to work. “I thought I was a good girl.”
“You are. You always were. And you still are, in a lot of ways. You do well in your classes. Your dad and your friends think you never get in any trouble. You don’t sleep around or anything.”
I blushed when I thought about the night before, how I’d shamelessly come on to him.
Nick was still watching me carefully. “But last year you wanted to do something different, take a risk, so you came to me about this possibility, and I hooked you up with a job here. You’re very popular, and you make some good money from it.”
“So I just…I just strip on stage?”
“Yeah. That’s it. In every other way, you’re still a good girl.”
That felt right to me. It wouldn’t have felt right if I’d suddenly started to fuck strangers or something, despite what had happened last night. But that feeling of wanting to take a chance and break out of the good-girl image was definitely true of me.