by Loren, Celia
I stare down in shock at her number in my hand. I can't remember the last time a girl turned me down. I mean, fine, I got her digits, but fuck. I stuff the receipt in my wallet as I walk quickly back down the hallway. That was the first time in fucking forever that my mind wasn't wandering, that I actually felt present, and man, I wanted her. I wanted to see her, feel her everywhere, hear her cry out my name…and she clearly didn't feel the same.
I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket as I reach my car. I take a moment to adjust my jeans, which are uncomfortably pinching my blue balls, then swipe my phone open to see a text from Bark. It's just a single question mark.
She's scared. I text back, then pause, thinking. Just laid the groundwork tonight. Got her home address and phone number.
I climb back into the truck and hear my phone buzz again as I turn the key in the ignition.
Good work.
I rub my forehead. Good work. Should make me feel proud but I just feel like shit.
Chapter Seven
Jo
My leg bounces on the floor as I try to lose myself in an episode of Scandal, but it ain't happening. I want to jump out of my skin. There haven't been any leads in the "Gas Station Murders," as the news is calling them. At first my neighbors were gathering nervously by the mailboxes, whispering their theories about gang-related activity, but that died down after only a couple days. I think they just want to forget. I wish I could. I hear my phone ring and practically launch myself across the couch to check the caller ID. My stomach drops a little as I see that it's Elise.
"Hey," I answer guiltily.
"Hey, yourself. I can't believe I'm finally hearing your voice! It's been days!"
"It's been like five days."
"Yeah—days!" she exclaims. "Now I know I'm probably just beating my head against a brick wall here…" she pauses dramatically, "but do you want to come out tonight?"
"God, yes," I answer, so quickly that I surprise even myself.
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah, I gotta get outta my apartment." And outta my own head. I hold the phone at a distance as Elise emits a high-pitched squeal on the other end.
Just under an hour later, I'm heading out of the apartment. I have on a pair of sexy patent leather heels, skinny jeans, a low-cut silk blouse, and a mound of black eyeliner. I feel a bit like I'm wearing a costume, and I think that's the point. Elise beeps as she sees me walking out of my building. Her music is blaring out of her car and she's bouncing in her seat as I hop in the passenger side. She leans over an open Red Bull in her cup holder to give me a hug.
"Damn, you look good," she says. She looks sexy as ever, of course. She's a willowy brunette who always has guys following her around. She comes off as such a party girl, but I know she's actually way more traditional than me at heart—wants the cookie-cutter house, two kids, the whole thing. I tried that life on for size and found it didn't fit me at all. "Down to try a new cocktail place?" she asks, flipping her hair the rearview mirror and pulling out.
"Sure, you know the places to go more than me."
"You OK?" She glances at me out of the corner of her eye as I busy myself with my phone so I don't have to look at the gas station as we drive by.
"Yeah, just haven't been sleeping that well, for some reason."
"You waiting for a call?" she asks, raising her eyebrow at my cell.
"Well…I did sort of meet someone," I hedge as she speeds up to make it through a traffic light.
"Oh god, finally!" she cries. "You're probably a virgin again by this point."
"Yeah, I don't think that's a thing."
"Whatever. Who is he? You have a picture?"
"OK, I did, you know, do just a bit of online…research, but he's like a ghost. No Facebook account, no photos. I did find a website for the landscaping company he owns, which I honestly thought he was kidding about, but no pictures there either."
"So use your words, my dear!" Elise says, affecting a British accent.
"Um, tall…muscular, very muscular. Dark brown hair, longish, which I wouldn't have said I like before, but it works on him. And he seems interested, but…"
"Bad kisser?"
"Oh, god no. Amazing kisser. I mean, just…beyond." I reply, a shiver running through me at the memory. And then I remember how I burst into tears in front of him minutes before that and blanch. "But I'm not sure if it's such good timing…I have a lot going on."
Elise actually starts laughing. "What, Billy's?"
"Hey!"
"I'm sorry, girl, but I don't think that place is exactly taking it out of you." She glances at me as I look down at my hands. I can't tell her what the problem really is. She misinterprets my silence. "It's just, you're capable of so much more. You just have to figure out what you want to do." Well, she's right about that.
"I just feel like I lost a lot of years with Steve, you know?"
"Yeah, but, like, fuck it." I shake my head at her with a grin.
"'Fuck it?' That's your big advice?"
"Sorry, I'm not like, Mr. Fucking Rogers. But basically, yeah. So you lost like, what, five years? BFD. Some people are like, seventy, and have wasted their whole fucking lives."
I giggle at her. I love that she couches her advice with that much profanity.
"So this guy, though, Holt, he has been texting me," I say, changing the subject. I can only shine a light on my life choices for so long without beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"Yeah?"
"He's been wanting to get together."
"So you've got him hooked. Nice. Oh, so we're meeting Dana and Marissa, cool?"
"Yeah." They're friends of ours from high school that I haven't seen in a long time.
"And a couple girlfriends of mine from work might be joining us." Elise works at a furniture store because she's interested in interior design. She's the type of person who draws in everyone near her; everyone wants to be her best friend. It's one of my few points of pride that I hold the coveted position.
We drive the last ten minutes together discussing Dana's new haircut, and I'm happy to lose myself in such an innocuous topic. We park and breeze by the line out front because Elise knows one of the club's promoters. What Elise described as a "cocktail place" is definitely a full-out club. The throbbing bass moves through me as we walk into a crowded space with a circular bar in the middle. Elise quickly spots our friends at one of the tables with bottle service and heads over while I follow behind.
"How'd we score bottle service?" I practically yell into her ear over the music.
"Oh, they like to have pretty girls visible!" she shouts back nonchalantly as we walk up the steps to the table. I notice that all the bottle service tables are raised above the rest of the club, as though we are literally what the rest of the people should reach for.
I say hi to Dana and Marissa, who are both surprised to see me since I've been such a hermit, and Elise's friend Jewel. Dana and her new bob haircut pour out vodka cranberries from the bucket in the middle of the table. I make my way through the first one leaning against the suede couch and answering noncommittally when asked a direct question, but otherwise just observing. Jewel returns from the bathroom trailing three clean-cut dudes—dudes is really the only word for them. They remind me of my ex-husband.
"Hey," one of them greets me, sliding onto the couch next to me.
"Hey," I reply, pouring myself another vodka cranberry. Light on the cranberry.
"Whaddaya do?" he yells into my ear, and I wince.
"Bartender!" I yell back as I down half my drink. I hate these kind of conversations.
"You're too sexy to be a bartender!" he says, sliding one hand onto my thigh.
What does that even mean? I shrug and move my leg over.
My phone starts shining like a beacon in my purse as he tells me about his job as an accountant. Holt…lips…muscles…my eyes are making more contact with my purse than this guy's face. Maybe Holt doesn't care that I started crying.
"Excuse me
," I murmur, reaching into my purse and pulling out my phone. There's no text from Holt waiting for me, as there has been for the last several days. He's been quite persistent, which surprised me. Both because of how I acted, and because I'm sure a guy like him has women throwing themselves at him all the time.
Hey, you busy tonight? I type and press send. I'm about to tuck it back into my purse when I feel it vibrate in my hands.
I could get away.
I google the nightclub's address and text it back to him without explanation, then turn back to the guy. I feel much happier to make conversation now that I know Holt is on his way. The guy's really perfectly nice, and I wave Dana over because I think they'd make a much better pairing. I loop her into the conversation and then extricate myself once I feel her taking over.
"You hiding over here?" Elise asks me suspiciously as she plops down on the sofa next to me.
"Maybe," I say with a smile. "I invited Holt."
"The guy?" she asks, raising her eyebrows excitedly. "Well, I'm excited to meet the man who's managed to finally get you out of your apartment." I wince.
"I've been a bad friend, haven't I?" I realize. "I'm sorry, I got so lost in myself with the divorce…"
"It's OK," she says, waving away my concerns. "I knew deep down I just had to wait it out. But I'm glad you're coming back."
Elise is the best.
"Oh," I breathe, glancing up at the dance floor. Holt is walking through the crowd, looking around, his head reaching several inches higher than everyone around him. He's wearing a leather jacket over a tight Henley. My stomach contracts at the sight of him. He's almost painfully good-looking. Elise glances at me questioningly. "There," I say, pointing to him.
"Fuck," she murmurs, as we watch him move gracefully despite his size. "Yeah, I'd leave my apartment for that, too." He looks around the perimeter of the club at the tables and his eyes fall on us.
"Shit! Pretend we're talking," I say, panicking, not wanting him to catch me staring at him.
"Um, a guy asked me to pee on him the other day."
"Wait, what?!"
"I said no!"
"No, I just meant…is he walking over here?" I ask, purposefully not looking at him. Elise responds by turning and looking slowly up at Holt, who has just appeared next to our table. He leans down and brushes a kiss against my cheek. I feel a few days' worth of scruff rub against my cheek.
"You look different out of uniform," he murmurs.
"I'm Elise," she says, extending her hand to Holt. "The best friend."
"Holt. So you're the one I have to impress," he says, with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Exactly," she laughs. I move over so he can sit next to me, and reach forward to pour him a drink. I see the other men in the booth eyeing the large newcomer.
"Where are you coming from?" I ask him, using the question as an excuse to lean in closer. He smells like earth and fresh air.
"Just hanging out with some friends," he says. His breath lands pleasurably on my ear and I squirm a little in my seat. "You come here a lot?" he asks, glancing around.
"Never."
"Thank god."
"Wanna go back to your place?" I watch him glance at me in surprise, and then take a long pause. Shit. Did I misread the signals? He's been texting me, so I thought…
"Sounds good."
I turn to Elise. She opens her mouth before I have a chance to speak.
"Go! Don't worry about it. If you don't go home with him, there are about a dozen other women in here who will." She nods around the club. I follow her gaze and see that there are indeed several sets of eyes upon the man to my right. Holt seems to be unaware; he's just sitting back and texting something on his phone. I hug Elise quickly and turn to Holt, who stuffs his phone back in his pocket and stands with me. Again he takes my hand and walks in front of me, guiding me through the crowd. I feel myself relax as we walk out onto the curb, both because Holt gives me the feeling of being protected, and because I'm glad not to have that music jostling my brain anymore.
He leads me down the street and to a pickup truck that looks vaguely familiar. Probably what he took me home in the other night, though I don't remember everything about that night so clearly. He steps in front of me to open my door and I smile at him before climbing up and in. When I was with Steve, he used to do things like open doors for me at first, and it would always rub me the wrong way because he made a show of it, like he was doing it just to be thanked. But Holt just seems to be following some protective instinct, and I have to admit I like it. He starts the truck and we head toward the highway.
"You don't like clubs?" he asks, rolling down the windows a bit. The wind catches my hair and blows it back. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of it against my skin.
"Not really. I like bars…but clubs are a bit much for me. I guess I just wanted to get out of my apartment tonight."
"They're a bit much for me, too. That's why I like my job. I get to be outside, make my own hours…"
"That does sound good. My mom used to keep a vegetable garden back in Florida. She gave me this little plot of it the last summer before I moved." I clear my throat, preparing myself for something I need to say. "Sorry about the other night. With the crying. I was just upset."
"About what?"
"It's just…last week…I…I, forget it. Best not to dwell on the past, right?"
"Well, sometimes. But sometimes things will just build up and fester. Best to get that kind of thing out, or it'll drive you crazy."
"Mmm." I stare out at the lights flashing by in the darkness. I have to resist a powerful urge to tell him what I saw. I don't know what makes me want to tell him so much, rather than Elise, for example. Holt just seems so strong, and capable, and like he wouldn't judge me for not being brave enough to go to the police. And it would feel good to have someone like him on my side. But my instinct for self-protection is too strong. I shake my head. "It's nothing."
"Sorry if my place is a mess," he says, taking an exit ramp.
"It's alright." I feel a burst of nerves as we make our way into a residential neighborhood. The houses are small but spaced widely apart, from what I can see in the dark. I glance at Holt out of the corner of my eye as he turns at a stoplight. I haven't had sex in a year and a half. And Steve was my first. What if I've…I don't know…forgotten? I'll at least be rusty, my instincts dulled from misuse.
"This is me," Holt murmurs, pulling into the driveway of a ranch house on a large plot of land. I step out of the truck and we walk in silence to the front door. I realize I've started to tremble and wish I'd had another vodka and cranberry before we left the club to calm my nerves. I take a stilted deep breath. He pushes open the door and he walks in and flicks on a lamp in the small foyer. I glance around as I walk in and shut the door behind me. It's messy, as promised, but not dirty. The hodgepodge furniture and white walls definitely proclaim that a man lives here alone, but something about it is almost cozy.
He walks forward, taking his jacket off and throwing it onto the back of the couch. I waver by the front door and he glances back at me.
"I'm a little nervous," I admit, blushing. He grins and walks toward me. My eyes widen and I step back against the closed door. "I just, I…" I stammer, and he stops, spreading his fingers wide with his palms out toward me as if to show me he's harmless.
"I was beginning to think you weren't interested," he says, cocking his head and me and looking at me with a hungry expression that makes me shiver.
"That's not really the issue. Um, the thing is, and I'm sure that every woman's magazine would tell me not to say this, I just…I haven't had sex in a little while. I'm divorced. Oh, wait, I told you that already. I'm worried I'm…rusty. Or I, don't know, I forgot how or something." My cheeks burn crimson as he stares at me. Shit. Shouldn't have said it. Elise would kill me.
"We'll go slow, I promise," he says, shaking off whatever that unreadable expression was. "We can even do it in bed."
; Wait, what does that mean? Does he not normally do it in bed? I mean, Steve and I did it on the couch a few times…
He walks toward me slowly and I find myself loosening my grip on my purse and dropping it to the floor. He bends at the knees and his arms wrap around my legs just below my ass. As I feel myself lifting into the air, I wrap my arms around his neck. He's looking up at me as he spins and begins walking toward what I assume is the bedroom. I forget to breathe as I look down into his grey-green eyes. Up close, I can see that they're spotted with bright green flecks. He pushes the door open with his foot and places me gently down on the carpeted floor.
"Slow," he promises again. He leans down and kisses me. My memory of our last kiss pales in comparison to this one. A well of desire overflows in my gut and I'm shocked to feel a wetness in my panties this early on in the proceedings. His tongue works gently in between my lips and I press mine against it. This part I remember how to do. I'm pleased and surprised to hear him groan and slide his hands onto my hips as I flick my tongue inside his mouth. His fingertips slip under the hem of my blouse and glide across the top of my skinny jeans and I wrap my arms more tightly around him. His broad hands slide up my back and I feel the callouses on his palms as he spreads them across my skin and then down, cupping my ass and pulling me against him. I gasp as I feel his massive erection press against my hip.
He takes advantage of my breaking away to bend his head down and softly brush kisses against my neck. I lean back as he moves up to my ears. I breathe in sharply as he slips his tongue in my ear and wiggles it around, then bites down on my earlobe. A wave of pleasure begins to envelope me and I open my eyes to try to get a handle on myself. He's pushing me toward an orgasm already and I don't even have my top off yet!