by Melissa Yi
His erection made a tent out of his black cotton boxer shorts and a wet spot on the front. Again, he wasn't as in control as he pretended. I gave a brief prayer of thanks that he didn't wear a thong before he helped me slip the shorts off his waist.
His penis was redder than I expected—again, the skin tone difference—and, unlike Ryan, he was circumcised. The surrounding hair was russet brown. His penis seemed to strain toward me. A clear drop of fluid beaded at its tip.
I retreated slightly. It was too much. Alex let me draw away but kept a hand on my shoulder. With the other hand, he popped open the drawer on his nightstand drawer and handed me a condom wrapped in neat white plastic.
I handed it back to him. I'd sheathed Ryan on occasion, but we usually didn't bother because I was on the pill. And dressing Alex up in a condom was so intimate, you know? Part of me felt like I didn't know him well enough. Ryan and I had been good friends before we became lovers. I wasn't sure what Alex and I were.
Alex laughed and dangled the package in my face. "Come on. You know how to do it. Didn't you do sex ed with kids and cucumbers?"
I laughed, too. "Actually, at Western, we had wooden penises. We only used zucchinis if we ran short. Are you guys so poor at McGill?"
Alex took my hand and placed the condom in my palm. "We've got the real thing."
I chewed my lip. But in the end, I've only ever done one thing with a challenge: face it head on. In more ways than one, I thought, as Alex's cock reared at my face. I took a deep breath.
Alex kneeled on the floor so his lower half dropped out of sight, behind the bed. He drew my head toward him and kissed me gently. "It's okay, Hope."
When I opened my eyes, his face was softer. Tender. It helped. I ripped open the package, careful not to pierce the latex. My hands were steady.
"You're not a virgin, are you?" he asked.
I shook my head and suppressed a laugh.
He wrapped his fingers in my hair, close to my scalp. "It's okay if you are. But I'm glad you're not."
I was, too. I couldn't imagine all this as my first time. It would be like riding around on the carousel for a few years and leaping on to a roller coaster.
Actually, it was still like that. Except I'd had a few turns on the log ride first.
That made me smile. Alex smiled back at me. And I took the condom out and rolled it down on him. His eyes widened at my touch. He arched into my hands and stood up, into my face.
I averted my eyes for a second. When I looked back, his eyes were almost black.
He said thickly, "You're so innocent, Hope."
I shook my head. I'm really not. But he wound my hair around his fingers and said, "I like it. In fact..." His voice lowered even further. "I'm going to pretend that you are a virgin."
Oh. Okay. That was more what I was used to. I lifted my chin, expecting gentle kisses and delicate undressing. I was still wearing my skirt.
Alex wound his other hand in my hair and shoved himself in my face. "Suck. My. Cock."
I jerked back, batting his hands away. He made me hot, but if I were a virgin, I certainly wouldn't put up with disrespect.
"I love how your eyes go wide," he said, almost to himself. He knelt down again, so that we were eye to eye. "All right. I'll give you a choice. Either suck me off, or I'm going to fuck you until you pass out." He paused. "Which, given your inexperience, would probably hurt."
I caught my breath. It probably would hurt. It had been almost two years since I'd sex with Ryan. I'd come close a few times, with some other guys. But I was too busy in med school to bother much with dating, and most guys didn't seem worth the hassle. Maybe I should have gotten a dildo? My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I was scared and thrilled and angry and wetter than I'd ever been in my life.
Ryan pushed his hips forward. I glared at him for a long, defiant moment. He closed his eyes and extended his neck, his lips parting in a silent snarl.
Seeing him like that, savage yet vulnerable, decided me. I bent forward and took him in my mouth. I half-expected him to try and choke me, but he didn't. He just let his breath out in a shudder and kept very still while I enveloped him.
I smiled inside. Alex talked tough, but he acted with a certain peculiar etiquette in bed.
Tentatively, then with increasing confidence, I experimented with my mouth and tongue until he froze and said hoarsely, "Enough."
I lifted my head. He was red-faced, his eyes glazed with pleasure. His discipline was fraying. I opened my mouth to do more damage.
He dug his hands into the roots of my hair and surged deep in my throat. I held my breath and tried to take it in.
"Oh God, Hope—" He wrested my head away, breathing hard. His eyes raked me head to toe, and then he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "You are so fucking sexy, Hope. You drive me crazy."
I gazed at him from under my lashes. Being a femme fatale had its privileges. I started to unfasten my skirt, but he covered my hand with his. "Let me." He took a deep breath and ran his fingers along the line of my cheek. Then he knelt on the floor to unbutton my skirt. He tugged the zipper down slowly, watching me. I shivered—the air conditioning, his hungry eyes, his erection, the wicked improbability of what we were about to do—and he started licking my breasts as his hands guided my skirt over my hips and legs and tossed it on to the floor. Gently, he circled his fingers between my legs, and then inside me, opening me up, until I choked back a scream.
He laid me back on the bed with infinite gentleness, stepping between my knees. He paused here with his hands on my hips. I grabbed his shoulders, hissing, "Yes."
His face darkened. Every muscle in his body was clamped tight, but he tried to take it slow, to take me tenderly. As if I were a virgin. I shifted my hips. He sucked his breath in through his teeth, his eyes stormy, but continued his gradual pace.
I arched up. I grabbed his ass, trying to show that he could go harder.
"Say it," he breathed in my ear, his stubble raking my cheek. "Tell me you want it."
I closed my eyes. It was easier if I didn't have to look at him. "I...want it."
"Beg me for it."
I buried my face in the sweaty crook of his neck. I whispered, barely audible, "Fuck me."
With a growl, he did.
We did.
I did.
I screamed so loud, his neighbours probably called the police.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of me, released my legs, and kissed me soundly. "That was fantastic." The word didn't have the same ring as in the subway, pre-sex.
He pulled out, fumbled down south, and the next thing I knew, a knotted condom sailed through the air and bounced off the rim of the garbage can. He missed.
He looked at me and shrugged.
I pulled my legs away from him. "I'm cold." I felt very vulnerable. Was this what it was like, having sex with someone new? Ryan and I always said, "I love you" afterward. Okay, we did love each other, whereas Alex and I had only met a few days ago, but it made me want to cry. Was this all a giant mistake? Yes, I'd enjoyed myself, I'd gotten laid for the first time in too long time, but I'd done things with Alex that I'd only fantasized about, and now he was playing hoops with the used condom?
And Alex was a colleague. How was I going to act around him at St. Joe's? What if this didn't work out? He'd seen me naked! He spanked me, for crying out loud!
Not to mention that someone at St. Joseph's was a murderer. I still didn't believe it was Alex, but this had to rank as one of the stupidest things I'd done in my life. No wonder Alex told me not to think. If my brain had been functioning, I never would have ended up here. I hated myself, a sudden and furious loathing. I had no one to blame but myself.
I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. "I have to go."
Alex grabbed me in a bear hug and pulled me down on the bed.
I stiffened, not fighting him, but keeping my body rigid, even while his legs as well as his arms looped around me and held me tight.
H
e said, "You know what, Hope?"
"What?"
"You're thinking too much again."
I had to laugh. It was true. If I didn't think at all, I'd just relax and have a grand time with Alex. My body had no complaints. My vag was still pulsating. If I'd been more of a brainiac, I would have dumped Alex after the café disappearance.
I'd done neither. I was a deeply flawed, fish-fowl, happy-sad, human being.
He kissed my forehead. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh...a few things." Dissing myself post-coitally was not helpful. Neither was talking about the murder. I may have been out of the loop for a few years, but I knew that much.
"Good. Now forget about them."
I laughed again. Alex was so complicated, but in other ways, he was refreshingly direct.
"In this room," he went on, jabbing the air with his index finger, "there are only a few appropriate subjects."
I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess. Sex."
He pressed a big, smacking kiss on my lips. "Yes! That's one of them. Sex is always appropriate. Want to go two for two?"
"Oh, okay." I was a bit sore, but I wriggled against him.
He laughed. "I like the way your mind works. I was asking for other subjects. But you're right." He grabbed my bum. "Who cares about other subjects. Sex all the way, baby."
Now I looked like a sex maniac. I blushed and covered it up by pretending to think. "I'm sure I can do both. Okay, another topic. How wonderful you are."
"Yes!" he chortled and pressed another big kiss on my lips. "You are so smart. You must be a doctor or something."
This was more fun than brooding. I kissed him back and murmured, "Which leads me to even more appropriate, more intriguing subject: how wonderful I am."
"Yes!" A kiss with some tongue. "I'm always interested in that subject." He reached down and pinched one of my nipples. I squealed. He said, "Well, if that's the way it's going to be, I may have to get back on to subject number one."
I cautiously reached down and touched him. There was some evidence of life. "Already?"
"Give me a minute. Or better yet, give me more than that." He pressed my hand down on him and kept it there.
As we started to move again, I thought, okay. I guess this is what happens when you have sex with someone that you don't love yet. You don't have the emotional bond. You don't talk about that part, even if you feel it. But you can still talk. And you can laugh. And you can have great sex.
Chapter 15
I twisted around to check the clock radio and was astonished to read 10:29 p.m. Night had fallen outside. Alex had turned off the air conditioning while we snuggled under the covers, but it had felt so natural and gradual, I hadn't noticed time passing.
Alex said lazily, "Are you still hungry?"
He'd grabbed a baguette and a jar of peanut butter from the kitchen. We'd slathered smooth peanut butter on torn-off chunks of bread. When I could no longer talk because my throat was mortared shut, he'd grabbed me a glass of lukewarm tap water. It was romantic in a grotty way, a 'jug of wine and thou' sort of thing. I wasn't crazy about the crumbs now littering the bed, but I liked nestling against Alex's warm chest, with his hand on my hip and his legs woven between mine. I wanted to stay here forever. Forget about the time. Forget about murder. Forget about thinking.
When I raised my head again, it was 10:48.
I let my head fall back on the pillow with a sigh. "I have to catch the last blue train. I have a day shift tomorrow."
Alex slid his arms around my middle. "You could stay here."
I lingered against him for a moment. I was glad he'd offered. I didn't know single protocol very well, if I was supposed to take off, wham-bam, or if it was okay for me to spend the first night. But I shook my head. "Do you have any contact solution? I have to take mine out." I flipped around to stare in his eyes. There were no tell-tale circles around his irises. He didn't wear contacts.
He frowned in thought. "I might have some. I never cleaned out my bathroom."
I stiffened. Gross and thoughtless. If he thought I was going to use Mireille's old crap—
"Relax. One of my buddies was staying here, and he wore contacts." His face twisted with sarcasm. "Are you ever going to let that go? What's the big deal, anyway?"
"The big deal?" I fought to lower my voice. We'd had such a wonderful little interlude. Well, it was shattered now. If he wanted a fight, I'd give it to him. "That you fucked her and everyone thinks you're not over her, and you still work with her every day? Oh, that's no big. Forget about it."
Secretly, I hoped he'd take me in his arms and tell me I was the only one. He'd understand my jealousy and insecurity and make me see there was no need for it. Instead, he closed his eyes and sighed.
Tears pricked my eyelids. I slid down the foot of the bed, taking the sheet with me. Alex sat up. I ignored him, pawing through our wad of clothes on the floor. I yanked my bra on, but my fingers fumbled on nubs of thread along my shirt. I couldn't even get dressed. He'd ripped off all but three of my shirt buttons. And he was just sitting there, watching me jerk on my panties. They felt cold and icky, but I was too upset to care. Did what we do mean nothing to him?
"Hope, you need a drink. Let me get you one." He stood up, still naked, but I avoided looking at him.
"I don't really drink," I said. Little Miss Muffet from Ontario again.
"Well, I do. Come on." He nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. "We should celebrate, you know?"
I licked my lips and tried to cling on to my anger.
"One drink," he said. "And then I'll take you home if you want. Or you can stay here and I'll buy you contact lens whatever."
I realized that I'd been clenching my jaw and slowly relaxed it.
"Red wine?" he said.
"White?" I said finally.
"I'll see what I can do." He smiled. He pulled open a drawer and dragged a pair of jeans on to his hips without bothering with underwear.
I watched him. I wanted him again.
His smile turned lazy and he eyed me up and down. "After the wine."
"If you can hold out that long," I said. One of my friends once told me about a study on couples that she read in the newspaper. If there's going to be an imbalance, i.e. one of them loves more than the other, it's better if the man's the one who loves the woman more.
Sounds plausible. Harder to implement.
"I can hold out. Barely," he said, and kissed me again, this time exploring my mouth like he was asking me a question. I leaned into it, but when I felt him pause, I pulled away first.
"Good. I hope you can find a good vintage," I said. I smoothed out my collar, which felt semi-ridiculous, when I was still mostly naked and wearing a ruined shirt. But I straightened my back and eyed him, waiting for him to do my bidding.
He laughed.
Not the reaction I had planned for, but I held my pose.
He ran his hand down my cheek. "You're funny."
My heart sank. Not exactly the femme fatale I was going for.
"I'll be back in a minute. Don't move."
I glanced down at my naked thighs. The bed sheet lay crumpled on the ground.
"Don't even," he drawled. "I want you just like this. Only more so."
My turn to laugh. I shook my head.
He pointed his index finger and thumb at me like a gun. "Seriously. No wine if you make a wrong move."
"What if I get cold?"
He half-snorted, half-laughed, and flicked off the air conditioning. "There you go." He sauntered out of the room. The jeans almost did justice to his ass.
Then I heard a door close and a toilet ring clank. I turned the air conditioning back on so I wouldn't have to hear any more. There is such a thing as too much information.
I perched on the bed, but the cold air made me shiver. I felt slightly ridiculous, not sexy, waiting for him to come back, and thought of Ryan again. Often we fell asleep with our legs braided together and my head on his chest. If he had to go off, I might l
ie under the blanket and stare at the ceiling in a pleasant post-coital haze.
Well. Love the one you're with.
I buttoned the three remaining buttons on my blouse. Of course they were the bottom ones, so my breasts still hung out. I'd have to borrow a shirt to go home in. I smiled at the thought.
My smile slipped. Did he have any clean ones?
I slipped off the bed in search of four small, clear buttons. Like I said, I liked this shirt and I might have to wear it home.
I turned on the light and found one in the middle of the floor, but I ended up peering under the bed in search of the rest.
I expected a bunch of dust bunnies and old clothes, but not the long blue box of aluminum foil.
Who keeps tin foil under their bed?
I pulled it toward me and opened it to see your average roll of aluminum foil getting near the end of the roll. I closed the box, but it still bothered me. I could understand used tin foil in your bedroom garbage, like if you were eating leftover pizza and felt too lazy to go back to the kitchen to recycle the packaging. I glanced at his open-mouthed wicker wastebasket and saw a few crumpled balls of blackened aluminum foil.
I frowned. Pizza doesn't turn foil black. And why would he have—let's see—at least four separate black tin foil balls in his garbage?
I hovered around the wastebasket, unwilling to poke through it. Alex was a pretty grotty guy. But maybe I could sift through the rest of his room. Or at least the bathroom, because then I could lock the door. I didn't know what exactly what I was looking for, but—
"What are you doing?"
My head jerked up to see Alex framed in the doorway, two wine glass stems and a corkscrew in one hand and a wine bottle in the other before he slammed everything down on his desk and came at me with both hands open.
"I, uh—I just had to throw something away," I said. "And I was looking for my buttons."
He didn't touch me. His eyes darted past me and fell on the box of aluminum foil now in the middle of the floor. He scooped it up and said, "You find everything you needed to know?"
"Uh..."
"You come here and fuck me so that you can look around here and get evidence against me?"