by T Gephart
“Eve,” Heather coughed, her fist hitting my thigh in the universal sign of shut-the-hell-up.
“No. Screw this.” Something inside me splintered and I couldn’t make my mouth stop. “All I wanted was to go out, get drunk and get laid. But nooooooooooo.” I waved my hands crazily in front of my face. “Even in a fucking bar, on a Saturday night, some asshole in a thirty-five-dollar shirt needs to tell me how he didn’t get the right kind of hard when he looked at my pieces. So yes, yes it’s me, Mr. I-never-forget-a-face. Did I cover everything?”
“Ummmm.” He had the decency to be speechless, hopefully embarrassed enough to leave. “I’m Matt.” He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “You paid me two hundred dollars last week. You know, for my spot? With Josh?”
Dear God.
Why?
Hadn’t I suffered enough?
“Oh, Koi Matt?” The embarrassment all mine as I squinted, his button down and slacks making him look different from what I remembered. “Hiiiiiii.”
I was not doing a good job of humaning lately.
When he’d walked into the studio last week he looked completely unremarkable. Wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a baseball cap pulled low, it could have been Ryan Gosling and I wouldn’t have known.
I had been too busy paying him off, concerned about getting face time with Josh to pay any real attention.
“I just saw you over here and . . .” He looked over at the open-mouthed audience sitting with me and blinked. “Never mind.” His head shook as he made a move to turn.
“No!” I stood up quickly, my feet slightly unsteady as I tried to retain balance. “No, I’m sorry.” I felt terrible, my misdirected tirade uncalled for and more importantly unwarranted. “I was a complete bitch. I thought you were someone else. Honestly. Please. Stay. Have a drink with us.” Words tumbled out of my mouth hoping one of would be the right one to say.
“Yes, stay,” said Kristen, shuffling along in the booth to make room. “Eve needs to make it up to you.” Her encouragement probably for less noble reasons than mine.
“Um, I was just going to say hello.” He looked at the faces of my friends—their overenthusiastic smiles and bright eyes probably not helping—and then back to the bar where I assumed he’d left a friend or two. “We were about to leave.”
“Boooooooo,” Heather jeered, her arm waving dismissively. “It’s still early. It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“She’s right,” I agreed, the bar still not even at capacity. “It’s a Saturday night, and I’m sure there is a law about leaving early. Lana?” I looked to our resident attorney who was probably the most sober.
“It’s a relatively unknown administrative code but I believe Eve is correct.” She smiled, giving me a nod. “Midnight in Manhattan and not a second before.”
“And it would be very irresponsible if we didn’t report you.” My hands moved over Matt’s arms, maybe the night hadn’t been a bust. “We’d be accessories and I do not want to go to jail.” My smile hopefully looking as coy as I’d intended. “You have friends with you?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his hand tapping his thigh nervously like he had when I’d met him.
“And I have friends.” My arm waved dramatically to the seated posse of inebriated women I was with. “So, why don’t we share our friends.”
“I like this plan.” Surprisingly it was Kitty this time. “I just met these ladies last week but I can tell you they’re awesome. It’s a guaranteed good time.” She clicked glasses with Kristen and Lana.
“See, verbal testimony.” I tugged on his arm. “Besides, you have to let me buy you a drink for being rude or I’ll never forgive myself.”
Truth be told, while I did feel terrible for the tongue lashing I’d given him, my motives weren’t entirely honorable. I still had my quota of rebound sex I needed to fill, and while Matt wouldn’t have been my first choice, it was too soon to rule him out entirely. That ticking clock and all. He wasn’t Josh-level hot—which we’d established was its own level of insanity—but I didn’t cower away in horror either. And who knows? He had friends; maybe one of those guys would fit the fictional brief I’d assembled in my mind of what my one-night stand should be like.
This is what it had come down to.
I was categorizing whether or not I would sleep with someone based on if they fit the fucking brief.
My downward spiral had been epic.
“Well, I want you to forgive yourself,” he relented, his need to leave slowly easing as he smiled. His eyes settled on me with a look that hinted he was interested. “Let me go get my friends.”
Matt was cute.
Not because I was drunk—I was under no delusion that I wasn’t plastered—but because he was being genuinely sweet. His friends were nice too, Darryl and Charlie sandwiching themselves between Kitty and Kristen.
Lana and Heather had husbands—enough said.
And it seemed everyone was enjoying themselves with the new situation. Kitty was lip locked with Darryl and was possibly giving him a hand job—it was too dark to say definitively. And Kristen was showing Charlie how she could tie a cherry stem into a knot with just her tongue. He was suitably impressed, needing to adjust himself after she’d performed the feat three times successfully.
Lana and Heather had abandoned us temporarily, the siren’s call of the dance floor too great. Heather still hadn’t found any rhythm but at this point was to drunk to care what she looked like. Just as well because it wasn’t pretty.
And as for me, I was having a blast. The drinking, the laughing, the flirty hands moving under the table—what wasn’t to love?
“You thought this shirt only cost thirty-five dollars?” Matt breathed in my ear, my hand tightly around aforementioned shirt as I leaned against him. My words from earlier being tossed back at me. I deserved it. It hadn’t been a nice thing to say even if it were true.
“I was annoyed, it is a very nice shirt.” My cheek rubbed against the fabric; okay maybe it was a fifty-dollar shirt.
“There were some other interesting things you said.” His hand moved suggestively down my back. “About wanting to get drunk and.” His eyebrow rose. “Other things.”
“Laid, I wanted to get laid.” I batted my eyes, subtlety no longer in my repertoire. “Is that something you’re interested in?”
It was more direct than I was usually, and while I had no problem with casual sex as a theory, it hadn’t been my usual go-to. Relationships tend to stop those kinds of things. That, and the fear of someone stealing my credit card and running up twenty thousand dollars on internet porn like the loser did to Phoebe McKay. It happens.
“Yeah, it is something I’m into.” Matt lowered his mouth and kissed the corner of my mouth.
It was a chaste kiss.
Something like what you’d give your Aunt Myrtle after she’d stuffed ten dollars into a birthday card and you had to say thanks. She had that mustache that gave you the creeps so always went for the cheek. But she’d turn at the last minute and you’d catch the edge of her lips. THAT is the kind of kiss Matt gave me.
Ewwww.
And now I was thinking about kissing my elderly aunt instead of the guy whose hand was dangerously close to my boob.
“You okay?” Matt asked, his other hand brushing over my cheek when he felt me tense.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, too nervous to open my mouth in case I puked.
To be fair, the puking wasn’t just kiss related, I think I’d pickled my liver with the amount of alcohol I’d consumed.
“You sure?” He wasn’t convinced.
Or maybe I was turning as green as I felt?
Either way, I wasn’t a quitter. And if I was going to go through with my casual rebound sex and work out my frustration from hot tattooed Josh, then I needed to give it the good old college try.
Which is when it came to me.
Hot. Tattooed. Josh.
Just thinking his name gave me tingles in all the right places and a tug in my lower
gut.
He was gorgeous. Those eyes. The way his hair flopped in front of his eyes toward the end of the day. His big broad shoulders and those freaking amazingly toned arms.
“Mmmmmmmmm,” I moaned out loud, shamelessly imagining one guy while I was with another. And yet, I didn’t want to stop, desperate to feel good, even if it was with a substitute.
“I want to try that again.” I moved my hand onto his thigh, sliding my fingers seductively up toward the fly of his pants. I didn’t know if it was actually seductive, but that’s what I was attempting.
“Really?” He looked surprised, as the corpse he’d been aunt kissing seemed to reanimate. “Well, okay then.”
He moved in, lowering his head as he attempted round two, but I needed to take the lead. I wasn’t sure if he was a bad kisser or it had been first time bad luck, but I couldn’t risk another shitty kiss again.
No, I needed to take control and kiss the pants—literally—off him.
The hand that wasn’t hovering near his crotch reached up and bunched his fifty-dollar shirt, my fingers gripping the fabric tight.
“Eve.” It might have been Matt’s voice but I no longer saw him, Josh’s perfect lips parting as I brought mine crushing down on his.
“I want you,” I growled as I thought about those strong heavily inked arms hauling me onto his lap and grabbing my ass. “Grab my ass.” It tore out of my throat as I deepened the kiss.
It was dark, noisy and no one was paying attention. Or maybe they were and I didn’t care, but I was willing to bet the pair of Jimmy Choos I was wearing I could fuck this guy right here and no one would notice.
Yet, despite my rather explicit instructions, it was a tentative hand that came to rest on my lower back. Fingers skirted at the top of my ass before moving quickly to my hip and that’s where they stayed.
There was no hauling onto his lap either.
Extremely disappointing.
“Someone might see.” Or something to that effect was mumbled against my mouth. “We could go out to my car? More privacy?”
His car? I wasn’t going to make out in someone’s car like I was a teenager, the gearshift getting lodged in my ass. No. It needed to happen here, in the dark where I could conjure up images of that wide torso that was probably covered in color.
“No one can see.” My grip on his shirt tightened as I looked over at Kitty still fused at the mouth to Darryl. She wasn’t even coming up for air let alone worrying about what I was doing. And Kristen and Charlie were noticeably absent, so they’d either gone to join Lana and Heather on the dance floor or were doing a tango of a different kind.
Again, taking control I lifted my butt from the leather of the booth and shifted into his lap. I wanted to straddle him, to grind up against him and soak my panties in a frenzy of dry humping, but I settled for sitting astride him.
“Eve.” My name on his lips as I shifted my weight back, feeling his hardening cock beneath my ass.
“Yes.” Josh, I finished in my head as I imagined him sliding his hand under my dress and pulling aside my panties. “Touch me.” A voice so needy and primal came out of my mouth it even surprised me, my core on fire with want.
I felt a hand—oh thank you, Jesus—move closer to the hem of my dress. Encouraged by the fingers working their way up my leg, I deepened the kiss, my tongue exploring every inch of his mouth hoping he wouldn’t stop.
Please don’t stop, Josh, I’m so close.
“Wow, I can’t believe you paid me two hundred dollars and I get to kiss you, this has been the best two weeks ever.”
“Oh my God, stop!” I all but threw the words at him as I scampered off his lap. My world tipping upside down as his words sobered me like ice water hitting my skin.
“What? What?” Matt looked at me confused. He was probably wondering why the woman who’d been riding his cock for the last few minutes, demanding he touch her, had leapt from him like he was on fire.
Why did he have to talk? I had practically gift wrapped myself and then he had to go open his mouth, insinuate that I paid him to kiss me.
Like a prostitute.
Holy shit. Was that what I’d done? Was he kissing me because I’d paid him?
Fuck.
I was so angry.
Mainly at myself, because what the hell was I thinking?
“I’m sorry, Matt,” I said, any pretense this was going anywhere shattered. “I think there’s a line somewhere, and I’m pretty sure I crossed it.”
I didn’t bother with any further explanation. I mean, what was the point? I was up for almost anything, but paying for sex—even in the most vague insinuation—I would never do.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, “if I did anything that you didn’t want, I’m sorry.”
Huh?
He was apologizing to me?
“No, no. You did nothing.” Well other than reminding me there had been a monetary transaction that had made it icky but I didn’t mention that.
Besides, I had been kissing him and pretending it was another guy. My boss. Who I’d met just over a week ago, and had a crazy sexual attraction to. If it were a competition, my sins were far worse.
“Hey, you want another round?” Charlie and Kristen were back, his hand suggestively draped across her shoulder. His head tipped to our empty glasses.
“We’re going to go.” Kitty had finally taken a breath, her mouth puffy and swollen from her marathon make out session. “Darryl is going to split an Uber with me and share the ride home.”
Darryl didn’t answer, just wore a silly satisfied smile like he knew the ride wasn’t going to end at her front door. Kitty was getting lucky. And so was Darryl.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to go too.” My head clearer than it had been all night. “It’s been a long day.”
“Oh, do you want me to come with you?” Kristen looked at Charlie, his face deflating a little at the suggestion. “I can get Heather and Lana, see if they are ready to go?”
“No, stay,” I insisted, preferring to make the trip back to my apartment solo. “Have a good time and we’ll talk tomorrow. Can you tell the girls I left?” I gathered my clutch and steadied my feet on the floor. Good, I didn’t fall down. Awesome, the body was still solid even if the mind was scrambled.
“Of course.” Kristen smiled, her eyes floating to Matt to see if he was going to be following me out. He wasn’t. That ship had sailed.
“Well, thanks Matt. It’s been real.” I punched him lightly in the arm, arms that were nowhere near as fabulous as Josh’s. “I’ll see you around.”
Thankfully he spared us both and didn’t follow as I turned, allowing me to fight my way out through the crowd and the noise by myself so we didn’t have to prolong my suffering.
Two hundred dollars well spent, Eve?
Idiot.
And as the warm night air hit me, I breathed in deep and let my shoulders sag. The relief instant once I’d stepped out of the noise.
This wasn’t me.
I was forcing something I wasn’t, and maybe that was a bigger problem than my unsuccessful attempt at casual rebound sex.
How long had I been doing it? Following a path because some screwed up part of my brain dictated it was what I needed to do. Were my thoughts so heavily saturated by a need to please that despite me believing I was confident and independent that I’d created this alternate version of myself. A watered down version of someone I thought I should be?
No. This wasn’t me. No wonder people thought my art lacked depth—I lacked depth. And what was worse is that I hadn’t even seen it.
Ugh.
I needed to go home.
Josh
I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I was thinking.
Letting Dallas convince me to go out drinking with him didn’t usually end well. And last night had been no exception.
The plan had been simple. Have a few beers, maybe sink a few balls at the pool table, and get my mind off the smoking brunette who’d given me a ha
rd-on for the better part of a week and a half. Because if it was one thing I needed, it was a distraction. It was either that or go home and jerk off for hours like a teenager who’d recently discovered porn.
Not to say the jerking off part wasn’t going to happen anyway, but I’d hoped to take the edge off at least. So I didn’t feel like a complete pervert.
“Oh my God, I’m going to die,” Dallas moaned, his hand wrapped in his T-shirt stemming the blood from the cut above his eye.
“You are not going to die,” I said for the hundredth time in an hour. “Maybe the next time you decide to be stupid. But, unfortunately it won’t be tonight.” Unless I choked him out myself, which given the level of drama I was having to deal with, might not be such a reach.
“You are so heartless, man,” Dallas hissed, his lip curled up in disgust. “I might have a severed aorta and you’re giving me shit. Some friend you are.” More mumbling as he shifted in his seat.
“Your aorta is in your heart, Einstein.” I laughed, the cut—more like a scratch—was nowhere near anything vital. “You’re going to need a few stitches and maybe a tetanus shot, stop being such a baby.”
I should have gone home and jerked off.
Instead I was sitting in the ER of Mount Sinai, Queens, with a man who glassed himself. He didn’t even have the excuse of being in a bar fight, the dumbass juggling beer glasses trying to impress a woman. His ability had been grossly exaggerated, as had his coordination. I still couldn’t believe he’d been so freaking stupid.
“That thing just shattered . . . on my head.” He reared back in surprise, like he literally couldn’t believe it happened. “That can’t be right, it must have been faulty. Or had an existing crack.”
“Funny thing about glass, Dallas, is it’s not meant to be tossed. In a bar. Full of people.” I shook my head, still bewildered the statement was necessary. “You’re lucky all you hurt was yourself and not that redhead you were trying to impress. I doubt she’d be too pleased if you’d taken out her eye.”
It could have been so much worse.