Two Can Play

by K. M. Liss

  Awww, kinda sweet...

  I smile. I won't reply to that. No need. I put him in my contacts.

  I go for Mom next.

  OMG Harry's perfect. You have to meet him. He's THE ONE.

  Me:Pleased to hear it. Keep up the good work Mom. Love to meet THE ONE when I'm back.

  I'm really happy for her. I hope “the one” hangs around for a while.

  Chris text number one...

  In bed, sober, tucked up. Nite nite K - TY!

  Good-o...

  And number two...

  Ricky’s texting me every minute. I think he’s worried and really sorry. I’m turning cell off now. Letting him steeeewwww all night tee hee-LOL - TY again.

  Me:Sort him out girl. And FGS don’t go places he hangs with the guys - All men can be DHs with their pals. They're genetically wired like that.

  I check the last one. It's a birthday party invite from Sienna. I'll have to think of a birthday present for her. I know she loves shoes. Perhaps I'll take her out shoe shopping. I'm extremely generous with my friends in lots of ways. Gifts. Holidays. Meals out. Shopping days. Life's expensive and I do my bit to help with luxuries and fun.

  It's hard to know when to stop sometimes. I don't want to embarrass them or cause issues.

  Although I keep them at a slight distance, which I can't help, due to my nature, I love them dearly, and just can't stop myself spending money on them. I don't have anyone else to spend it on. My parents have everything money could buy.

  There's a couple of charities I'm the patron of, though: a child hospice and a refuge for the homeless, both in L.A. These two tug at my heartstrings whenever I go there.

  No...it's not just a tug...it's serious emotion.

  I challenge anyone not to be overwhelmed at the plight of tiny children who have a terminal disease. Their parents trying so hard to keep brave for them, holding everything together while dealing with the agony of their child’s sickness. It's heartbreaking.

  And it's so sad to see so many people who have lost their roof over their heads for one reason or another. I like to help out there too when I can.

  My eyes feel heavy...I have an overwhelming need to shut them.

  I can feel myself falling asleep...it's the wine...I shouldn't drink in the middle of the day. It knocks me out.

  I'm awakened by a buzzing noise. It's the main door buzzer.

  Mio Marco I presume.

  I stretch and get up, heading out of my door, down the stairs, yawning and wobbly on my legs, holding onto the stair rail for support.

  I open the door and there he is, all white smile and exceptional good looks, dark blue jeans, and a snowy white T—my very own Latino love god.

  “Katie...were you sleeping?” he asks me in his appealing deeply accented English, while running his eyes over my sleep-mussed hair and crumpled clothes.

  I expect my unkempt look and the yawning gave it away.

  I'm all warm and glowy again.

  There's a tingling in my groin as I look at him.

  Actually, no, it’s a full scale throbbing of desire.

  My female parts are weeping with want.

  I straighten up my hair with my fingers and try to pull myself together.

  What the hell is the matter with me today?

  “That red wine is lethal. What is it, twenty proof?” I attempt to joke about my mid-afternoon snooze.

  “It is a leetle strong, yes,” he admits.

  We have a staring moment.

  A lot is said with our eyes. It was here on this doorstep where we had our heated moment and heated words.

  “Come in for a minute, Marco. I need to get changed.” I lead him up the stairs and inside. He produces a bouquet of long-stemmed roses from behind his back and thrusts them in my hand as I close the door behind him.

  “For you,” he says with a wide grin.

  Whoa...it's a walk down the Grand Canal, not our first anniversary.

  “Oh, you shouldn't have,” I reply with worried wide eyes.

  And he really, really shouldn't have. God knows how much this little lot cost. He's just a waiter for God's sake.

  “I feel bad, what I said? You're a nice girl and I was, come si dice, molte turbato, very upset, you know?”

  “Oh Marco...come here.” I lose it for a minute and grab him, squashing the week's wage of bouquet between us, as I plant a big wet kiss on his gorgeous stubbly cheek.

  “Katie, ahh...mia, Katie.” He holds me close and before I know it he's kissing me. And I so want it this time. I respond like crazy and before long we're into a heavy session against the living room wall.

  My head is swimming with pleasure.

  I'm shaking, gasping and moaning, and feeling like I'm about to orgasm on the spot, as his tongue plays with mine, rubbing over my stud and sending us both into frenzy.

  His hands start roaming again, cupping my behind and pressing me against him.

  I feel his hardness against my hip.

  He feels so good. Completely delicious. I imagine him doing things to me. Things I really want. My panties are soaked with pent-up wanting.

  And then I can't stop myself. I remember. All of it. It flashes through my brain. Terrible things I really don't want to remember and desperately try not to think of, ever.

  All the hurt. So much hurt. I want to die in both body and mind.

  Such burning, sharp and intense physical pain inside. Sickening punching. Horrendous hair wrenching. Big hands round my neck tightening and threatening me with vile things. The cruel evil abuse that followed; his sneering, angry, repulsive face shouting at me while he did it...words I hope I never hear again.

  My mind closes down. Tears prick at my eyes and I cool rapidly, dropping into the deep freeze zone.

  He squeezes my ass, softly, but even so, I'm so on edge, I could scream. I try not to react strongly. Like the last time. I've obviously got a long way to go. The idea of sex is more than appealing, until it starts. Then I just can't deal with the great big reality. There's a huge roadblock in my way, and I'm not sure how to move it.

  “Hey, Marco, not too heavy, okay?” I take a gulp, swallowing my madly rising panic. I force myself to smile, trying to calm down. This is not Ryan. I say again and again in my head. This is Marco. He'd never do that kind of thing to me. Never.

  “No bad names today, bellezza.” He drops a kiss on my forehead and strokes my hair.

  We laugh together at the bad name memory. It was pretty funny actually.

  I gaze at his face and to my absolute amazement, I ascend from my cold bad place at warp speed, and I'm off again.

  Those eyelashes are bewitching me...the lightly tanned skin...the big brown eyes. And as for that thick hair of his...

  Oh my God, I want my hands in it.

  As I bury my fingers in the dark silky mass of it, I kiss him again.

  I'm desperate for close contact. I can't resist the pull between us. But I need to make all the moves myself. Right now I want to touch him gently. Soft touches of the lips. Back and forth.

  I keep doing it. This is just what I need. Just kissing. No more than this. Not yet. Nothing too sexual.

  I immerse myself in the sensation of maleness and hair-roughened skin in my hands as I rub his face over and over, tugging his ears, and fingering his hair in circles.

  His breathing is wildly accelerated. His fingers rub up and down the back of my neck, around my shoulders.

  I'm shaking and so hot.

  I nibble at his lip gently, tugging at it. My tongue slips back inside his mouth for another taste.

  The perfume of roses mixed with his cologne is intoxicating. I'm drunk on his flavor and the scent.

  My body wants more so badly. But my mind won't let me. If only I could let go of my past. Bury it forever and move on. Maybe Marco can help me do that. In time. But it might take a long time. More time than I can spend here, realistically.

  He breaks away and holds my hand in his.

  “Not so much more. This
too hard. For me,” he mutters in a hoarse voice, his eyes glowing with passion.

  “Mmm, much too hard,” I agree, my heated gaze dropping downward to the very hard evidence of his difficulty.

  I lock eyes with him and produce a hormone-drugged smile, before pulling my wits together. Which isn't easy at all. “Let’s go have our walk. Give me one minute.”

  I sigh deeply, catching my breath as I go to the kitchen and place the roses in the sink, running some water to cover their stems and keep them fresh.

  Then I go to my room and put on my jeans, flat white sandals, and a fine, white lacy top.

  I add a generous spray of perfume and brush my hair.

  Grabbing my purse, I return to his side. His heated gaze rakes me over thoroughly.

  “Let's go, mio Marco.” I take his hand and we leave the apartment, walking down the Calle Chiesa toward the canal, in a steamy cloud of lust.

  The evening is warm and balmy. I gaze at my escort in adoration.

  “How's Marina?” I ask.

  His sister, Marina, had a nervous breakdown, six months ago, at just twenty years of age. Apparently her pure math degree became too much for her.

  “She okay...some ups and downs...but better.”

  “Is she coming home soon?”

  “Not time for that. She is, ummm...long while afore.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “No, she okay, happy. Very happy now...likes male nurse I think.”

  I laugh at his light-hearted reply.

  He buys me an ice cream and we sit on the quayside bench, looking across the expansive sea-like canal.

  The breeze brushes past us gently.

  It's a perfect view and I'm in heaven sitting here with him.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty-six. And you?”

  “Twenty-four,” I reply. “Umm...Marco, have you had any serious girlfriends?”

  A guy like him must have had a few.

  “Yes, of course, many, and all girlfriends very serious,” he replies, tongue in cheek.

  I stare, waiting for the real answer. I raise my eyebrows, prompting him.

  “Okay, only one,” he replies with a laugh. His eyes crinkling up at the corners.

  “Margarita, two years ago now, three years we together. She go to university, in Rome. Very bad time for me.”

  “Oh, and no others since?” I'm surprised. He seems to be the long-term, faithful type. That's kinda sweet and appealing.

  “Not so much. Just here and there, some dates, that's all.” He stands and turns, looming above me as I lick my divine lemon ice cream. “But now I find you, mia Katie, and no one is serious for you?”

  My heart misses a beat and I melt faster than the ice cream on my tongue.

  “No, but Marco, I....” I try to explain he's moving too fast.

  He puts his warm finger on my cold lips and stops me.

  “No. Don't say yes or no...you and I, maybe we good, maybe not. We will see, yes?”

  I kiss his finger. I like his wait-and-see-where-it-goes attitude. It doesn't sound too heavy.

  “Mmm, maybe. Yeah...we'll see.”

  He offers me his hand and pulls me up. His arm slips around my waist and we wander along silently for a while. I'm really enjoying his company and the feel of his arm around me. I notice his hand has slipped down to my ass. Not that I'm complaining.

  At half past seven we arrive back at my door.

  I turn and kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

  He's not coming in.

  I don't want to risk ruining a perfect walk date.

  Besides, we've had enough hot stuff already.

  My chest heaves as I take in a deep breath, absorbing his gorgeous scent, as he pulls me to him in a close hug. His lips sweep over mine, several steaming hot times. And then he releases me, his fingertips brushing mine as he backs off.

  “Ciao, innamorato.”

  He blows me a kiss and turns and walks away swiftly, with a backward glance and a smile over his shoulder.

  I stand and watch, captivated by the vision of male beauty disappearing up the street.

  HIM

  I get out of the cab, approach the main door and press the buzzer for her apartment. A minute later the door opens.

  Absolutely sexelicious.

  “Hi, Aaron. Come up.”

  I'm mentally undressing her perfect little denim ass as I follow her up the stairs and into her apartment.

  It's really cute; pastel colors, fluffy cushions, and girly.

  Flowers everywhere.

  I can't fail to miss the dozen red roses sitting on the coffee table.

  “Cool place you have here.”

  More than cool in fact. It's small, but everything in here looks really expensive.

  “I like it. C'mon, let me show you around.” She leads the way, and I follow, trailing behind in the wake of her perfume as she precedes me along the inner hallway. “This is mine,” she announces proudly. She walks in and I follow her. She has an amazing princess bed. I wonder how the hell she got it in here. It's seriously huge, covered in drapes that slouch all over the floor.

  “Wow, that's just lovely, Kate,” I say in surprise.

  She seems to be doing very well for herself if this is a second home. I wonder what she does for a living?

  “I know. It's my favorite room. And that there's my bathroom.” She points to her en suite. “And now I'll show you yours.”

  She picks up my hand as she passes and leads me out. “That one's your bathroom.” She gestures at a door as we pass by. “And this is your room here. Go on, take a proper look.” She stands to the side of the doorway and I pass her by and enter.

  I take a few steps inside stopping by the window. “Cool. I love it. It's great.” I poke the pet rock on the window ledge and she laughs behind me. “What?” I ask in puzzled amusement.

  “Nothing...try the bed.”

  I oblige by flopping on it, on my stomach. I mess up her carefully arranged covers and cushions in the process. “Very comfy. You'll have to drag me off it,” I say with a sigh, snuggling into its soft fragrant surface. “I need a long lie down.”

  And it'd be nice if she joined me.

  “I've got just the thing to tempt you up... Want a drink? Let's go celebrate your arrival.”

  She's tempting me up enough already, but a drink would be good.

  I follow her into the living room and through to the kitchen.

  “Hot or cold?” She grins at me.

  “I'd like a beer, if you've got one. I've had a stressful afternoon.”

  “Oh, what happened to stress you out?” she says, ducking her head in the low refrigerator to pick one out.

  “Family stuff, you know.”

  “More mother trouble?”

  “Yep.”

  She prizes off the bottle cap and passes me my freezing cold Italian beer. I take a long swig.

  Fuck, that's so good. An instant stress reliever.

  Then she pours herself a glass of fizzing, sparkling water and adds a slug of lime from a bottle on the countertop.

  “Let’s go sit and chat,” she suggests.

  I follow her in and sit down.

  “Got a laptop or tablet?” she asks.

  “Of course. Who hasn't?”

  “That's good. I'd have loaned you my spare otherwise. The Internet password is on the wall, just there.” She cocks a thumb behind her where the modem is situated, its little green lights merrily blinking at me.

  “It's just about all I have got. My possessions are rather sparse at the moment. I've got an iPhone, a laptop, five T-shirts and three pairs of jeans, most of which I've purchased today.”

  “Really? That's all? Why's that?”

  “Try and guess.”

  “Not your mother, surely?”

  “'Fraid so.”

  “No. She actually threw your clothes away?”

  “Yep. My clothes, books, old CDs and DVDs, goddamn everything...even my battered old
teddy George that I've had since I was two.”

  “Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that. Especially George the teddy.” She tries to smother her laugh.

  “I can get more clothes, no problem.” I take a long swig of my Peroni. “And the upside of being possession-less, is it makes moving a piece of cake.” I laugh, and so does she. I get a long flash of the stud, which I really want to get my teeth stuck into.

  “So, Aaron, tell me. Where do you live and work?”

  “I split my time between here and the States. I’m in the music business.” I finish my beer and put the bottle on the table next to the rose garden.

  “You are? In what way?” Her eyes register interest.

  “I work for a production company in a recording studio.”

  “Wow, nice job...got anyone famous on board...?”

  “Mainly rising stars.” I keep quiet about the three really famous ones. “We signed Kai Jackson six months ago.”

  He's becoming quite well known. She'll have heard of him for sure.

  “Really, d'you know Kai personally?”

  “It's a small studio, so yeah. And he's okay for a young guy. Pretty smart, actually. I think he's gonna grow into something big in a few years. A lot of potential there.”

  “And what do you do in the studio?”

  “A bit of everything, but I tend to be on the recording side mostly. Where the action is.” I smile.

  “It must be exciting. So creative. I'd really love to see it. Where is it?”

  “New York.”

  “Oh, I thought it might be.” Her face drops. “Shame. I'm in L.A. It's a bit far for me to visit.”

  “Yeah, a bit of a long hop,” I reply with a chuckle.

  And just as well, I think, thankfully.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I'm self employed.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Financial management,” she says vaguely. “But I'm trying to get out of that. I write stuff. I want to get published somewhere.”

  “What kind of things do you write?”

  “Ummm, all sorts. Poems, songs, short stories.”

  She writes songs?

  “Can I see something?” I'm truly interested in this news. It's the lifeblood of my business. My ears are on now on high alert.