Two Can Play

by K. M. Liss

  His eyes flare at me across the room and he silently slips his T-shirt off.

  I have a good look. I'm blinded to the tattoos by his smooth, broad shoulders, and well-developed chest muscles. I try not to drool and pass out with lust.

  “Stand up and twirl please.” I add in the chat box. Plus a few winks. I'm dying to see the whole damn lot of him.

  He obliges my request.

  Oh my God. The most perfect male body. Ever.

  I'm having one of those highly intense female moments again. Everything below the waist is desperate to jump on him.

  “Thank you, that was a very pleasant show.” I type, with a row of smileys, trying to calm myself down.

  “Your turn now.” Appears before my eyes.

  “Sorry no tattoos to show you. I'm ink free.” And another smiley.

  “I don't believe you. Prove it.” Followed by a row of tongue-outs.

  “Fuck off.” I subtly reply with a touch of finality, adding an angry face for extra emphasis.

  I shut my laptop and give him a long hard glare. He shuts his and glares back.

  “You told me you were nice,” he says, pouting manly style.

  God, that look's so hot! He's so hot.

  “Oh I am, and little Miss Nice is off to bed now.”

  “It's only ten thirty. What about the pizza stomach?”

  “I'm not going to sleep. But if I go and sit in my room you can't mentally undress me like you are right now.”

  “Hang on now, honey. You're the one who asked me to take my T-shirt off.”

  “It wasn't a sexually driven request.”

  “You could have fooled me.” His eyes flare pointedly.

  So he spotted my lustful looks and drooling, did he?

  “I'm off limits, okay? If I stay here, will you promise not to hit on me?” A smile is dying to burst out on my face but I keep it well hidden. Swallow it fast.

  “Well I can try, but that's a real hard one. It's ingrained in me. See a pretty girl—must hit on her, kinda thing,” he says with a teasing broad grin appearing.

  The deep voice and wicked expression is getting to me. More than getting to me, if I'm honest. The whole Aaron package is so damn sexy, I'm dying to unwrap it and see what else is inside.

  “Look somewhere else then,” I suggest, in an annoyed tone of voice to cover my rapidly growing interest.

  “Sorry, can't do that...it's my tunnel vision. I zone in on things I like. It's way beyond my control.” He flicks his eyes over me and licks his lips slowly.

  He's definitely zoning in on parts of me right now, and it's way beyond sexy. I'm almost frothing at the mouth.

  I stifle a groan. “Oh, for God's sake. And will you please put your T-shirt back on,” I snap, a little over the top in my delivery.

  “I'll make us some coffee, shall I?” he says sharply, getting up and dressing. Thankfully.

  “What a good idea. Want a coffee machine lesson?”

  “I think I can work it out on my own,” he replies huffily.

  He disappears into the kitchen.

  I get the impression he's used to women falling at his feet.

  And I can see why they would.

  Just a few short hours ago I was completely stuck on Marco, but now I'm not sure.

  Despite his upfront naughty personality, and damn good looks, Aaron has something that really appeals to me. A carefully hidden side to his character. I love his cheeky, fun approach to life and I really enjoyed being out with him this evening. But behind his sexy, bad-boy persona, which really hits my sweet spot, I sense he's got an inner turmoil raging. And he seems more than a little empty and lonely. Just like me.

  We drink our coffee, talk some more, and play some of my apparently “dreadful” taste in music for an hour. He must like dreadful music because he's smiling a lot and seems to be enjoying himself no end.

  And at least he's stopped hitting on me. For now, anyway.

  ~ * ~

  I wake early the next morning, which is very unusual for me. Perhaps my subconscious knows someone else is here in my small space, and my equilibrium is disturbed, or something like that.

  It's just light when I give up trying to get myself back to sleep again. I have the urge to write something naughty, I expect it's because I've been stirred up and excited lately. I feel all creative and spiced up, like a steaming hot bowl of Naga chilies, in a really great mood for writing a scorcher of a story I've had whirring around my mind for a while. I wrap myself with my dressing gown and go out to the living room quietly, but what I see stops me in my tracks in the doorway.

  He has my Dreams folder in his hands.

  OH NOOOO...I'm so, so stupid...I should have hidden it. Put it away.

  He's absorbed and well on the way to finishing it by the looks of things.

  He must have been sitting there for hours.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him. I can barely speak. I'm completely horrified.

  He jumps in surprise.

  “Just reading your work,” he says guiltily.

  “Aaron, no...Oh no, no, no....” I cover my face with my hands in shame. All my wildest fantasies and that unspeakable experience is in there. Some heavy, extremely explicit stuff as well. Things I could never show anyone I know.

  And now I'm exposed.

  I feel as if I'm standing naked in front of him. Worse than naked. I'm skinless. My soul's bared. I'm a throbbing mass of nerves, every painful feeling or sexual thought I've ever had is on display.

  A huge sob escapes from my mouth and I turn and rush back into my room, slamming the door.

  I can't face him, ever again...how could he do this to me?

  A few minutes later he knocks.

  “GO AWAY!” I shout angrily.

  But does he? No, he comes in anyway.

  I bury my humiliated, seething face in my pillow.

  “I've made you some coffee. Come out of here. We need to talk,” he says standing next to me at the side of my bed. His voice sounds soft and kind and very matter of fact. He doesn't seem overly shocked by the inner me. Perhaps he's un-shockable. Knowing a little about him, he probably is. Sadly I'm very shockable. And currently very embarrassed as well.

  “What's to talk about? They're my dreams, my thoughts. You shouldn't have read them, Aaron,” I choke out, through my sobs.

  “I know.... But I was so curious. I couldn't help it. And I really love it, Kate. All of it. The songs are just awesome and some of those stories are so hot, it's unreal. There's not one negative thing I can say about anything you've written. But I want to know, is any of that really bad stuff true?”

  I bravely gather my strength, sit up, and turn my soaked face toward him.

  The words simply fall out of my mouth. “All of that's true.”

  “You were actually raped and abused?”

  “Yes, just over a year ago,” I admit it for the first time ever. To anyone.

  I've never even told my best friend Chris about it. I was scared of where it all might lead.

  Why I feel I can tell Aaron, right now, this minute, I just don't know.

  Relief spreads through me like a storm and it feels so good, I can't believe it. I almost feel high with it. The tears begin to flow again. It's the great flood of relief.

  “You don't have to tell me anything more, but if it helps, you can,” he says softly, melting my heart.

  “I don't know...maybe.” He looks genuinely moved by all this. “Maybe later.” I snuffle.

  “Hey, come up here. Use me as a tissue for all those tears.”

  He pulls me up from the bed with a strong grip and hugs me tight. I wipe my face and eyes on him, gratefully. He strokes my hair and gives me a sweet kiss on the forehead. My heart and head are swimming with mixed emotions. I'm opening up to him. Someone I hardly know. It's odd how I feel I can trust him despite the fact he sneaked a big look in my very private Dreams folder. Perhaps he was meant to discover I've been violated and it wasn't just chance that I met him
. I'm not a strong believer in fate, but I do feel a deep connection forming, whether is the loneliness or something else we share, I just don't know yet.

  “Come sit with me. No need to say another word, okay?”

  Taking my hand, he leads me out of my room and I sit next to him on the sofa.

  He hands me my mug and I take a grateful sip of its comforting heat. It's sweet and milky.

  He remembered how I like it?

  I'm more than surprised and more than impressed as well. I didn't think men remembered little details like this.

  His arm slips around my shoulders and he hugs me close. A switch flicks on in my heart as I feel his warmth against me and I sip my lovely drink. His fingertips caress my arm, stroking me up and down, slowly and rhythmically. I sigh nervously to myself. I'm not quite sure what I'm thinking about Aaron at this moment, but I am sure it's dangerous ground I'm starting to tread with him.

  All my relationships end in disaster, one way or another.

  A sadistic rapist. A married man, not that I knew he was to start with. An obsessed nutcase. A domineering, wildly possessive type. A money-grabbing jerk.

  My previous men parade through my head in a disaster line-up.

  I'm praying Aaron isn't gonna be on the end of that line. Because I like him. A lot.

  Surely I deserve one relationship success, don't I?

  A day of quiet togetherness passes by and we now seem to have entered a new phase in our warm and friendly relationship.

  The morning was spent wandering around the sights we both know so well, talking and stopping at various points for drinks and a massive seafood lunch. The afternoon and evening was blissfully lazy. Really enjoyable actually. Relaxed and chilled. We had a couple of beers and then had some fun poking on Facebook and Tweeting each other with insulting jokey comments. He really makes me laugh and I love that.

  But he's guarded with me. Careful about what he says.

  As I settle down to sleep, I strangely want the old Aaron back.

  The one who hit on me. The naughtier one.

  I know where I am with that one.

  The fact that he's adapted his behavior considerably, since the big reveal, makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

  But I don't say anything.

  I suppose I should be flattered he's actually considering my feelings. I'm not sure this kind of behavior comes naturally to him.

  ~ * ~

  After a late start to the day, as we both overslept, I make him a chicken salad for an early lunch and we sit opposite each other at the dining table.

  He pours a generous helping of chili sauce onto his plate and dunks a piece of chicken into it, popping it into his mouth with an orgasmic moan.

  Boy does he like his food spicy hot...that's something else we have in common.

  “That sounds too good to miss.” I pick up the bottle and splash some on my plate, dipping a cucumber wedge into it and crunching it in bliss.

  “Did you get any viewings set up?” I ask.

  “Not yet. Someone's looking into it for me.”

  “Only I was thinking, there's no point you doing all that. You can stay here, for as long as you like. Don't waste your money.”

  “You're way too generous, honey,” he says, touching my hand across the table.

  “I know. It's a fault of mine.” I laugh.

  “I'm really tempted to say yes. It'll save me a lot of bother. But I feel like I'm taking advantage of you.”

  “Not at all. The offer's open-ended. Look, it's up to you. I'll be going back to L.A. in a few days in any case. So the place is yours. No wild parties though,” I say, half seriously.

  “Why's that, what do you need to do back home?” he replies a little too quickly.

  “I've got my friends to see. I miss them. And my mom has asked me to go visit her three times already. She's got a new boyfriend who could, apparently, be my stepdad sometime soon. So I suppose I ought to show up before the wedding.”

  “When exactly are you going?”

  “I don't know, maybe four or five day’s time. Does that suit your schedule or not?” I ask with a touch of humorous sarcasm.

  “Just about. I've got a little something lined up for us, see.”

  “You have? Don't tell me. It's another hot food date.” I snigger.

  “No. I've got tickets for The Saturdays. They're playing Rome in three days. Now don't get too excited. These are not the greatest tickets, but it'll be on screen as well.”

  “Really? Oh, Aaron, I absolutely love The Saturdays. We're going. My mom's wedding and my friends can wait a while longer.”

  It really doesn't take much to buy my affections. A pair of cheap concert tickets and I'm putty in his hands. I get up from the table and go around to his side and plant a big happy kiss on his cheek. He stands up and catches my arm, pulling me toward him in a strong grip.

  “Aaron, no, please don't...,” I begin warily, as every part of my body starts to warm up really fast.

  “Don't panic, it's just a thank-you hug, that's all. From me to you and you to me,” he says looking at me with an appealing smile.

  “Okay. A thank-you hug I can do.”

  I put my arms around his back pulling him in, and his arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me in even tighter. As I sink into him I'm captivated by his scent. It's gorgeous. Gucci. I've seen the bottle in the bathroom and had a few long fixes on the sly. It smells so much better on him, though. I bury my face in his neck and hair and breathe it in deeply. I'm trying not to feel all the parts of his hard body pressed so closely to me. My mind starts playing games with me. Needy ones. I want to stay here forever. I feel safe and protected. He's so gorgeous and hot and sweet and kind. I think I've gone into a state of breathalepsy. My lungs have stopped working.

  He pulls away with a touching sigh.

  “Mmmm, that was real nice hugging, Kate.”

  I take a long shaky breath in. “Want another?” I ask hopefully.

  “Best not push it, eh?” he replies, sitting back down to finish the last few mouthfuls of his lunch.

  I was expecting some kind of move there. I'm not sure what's going on in his head. He's hot and cold and confusing, but that's intriguing me all the more. Above and beyond the drop-dead-sexy looks, he's a bit of an enigma, an erotic man puzzle. And one I so want to work out.

  I return to my seat and sit smiling at him, watching him eat for a moment.

  It's like he's having oral sex with his food, his tongue sweeping his lips, and playing with every bite he takes. Warming up my erogenous zones. His warm eyes glow with pleasure.

  “What time are you out?” he asks between lust-filled mouthfuls.

  I pull myself together and clear my throat of its thick coat of desire. “No set time. I'm just going to say hello, that's all.”

  I need to see Marco to get my head around all this. I don't want to string him along. It's not fair.

  “I have to make some work calls. I'll do it when you go out. Then perhaps we could go for dinner again later?”

  “I'll let you know. We may decide to do something together tonight.”

  “Yeah, and I can just imagine what that might be.” He huffs and his face darkens a little as his eyes search mine.

  He's obviously still very interested in me to be getting so ratty over my going out with Marco. But, why? I'm broken goods. He must know I'm gonna be hard work. Why's he bothering with me when I'm pretty sure he could have any woman he wants with very little effort?

  “Well keep your imagination to yourself, buddy.” I smile at him briefly. It doesn't hurt to tease him a little. I want him to smile back at me, but he looks so serious right now.

  He pushes back his chair and gets up.

  “Finished?” he asks, picking up his plate and gesturing at mine.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Not hungry?”

  “Not so much.”

  My rather large appetite has vanished. I can't eat a thing.

  That
always happens when I get involved with someone.

  A loud voice is shouting in my ear and telling me that being involved with Aaron is probably gonna be another big mistake.

  But that's me all over: one big mistake after another.

  I approach the cafe and spot Marco right away. He is leaning over a table with his head close to a very attractive girl with deep cherry-colored hair. An older woman sits at her side. He appears to be having an intense conversation, rather than taking an order. I walk up to the table and he suddenly notices me, and stops talking. His eyes flare with alarm. I'm confused for a moment.

  What's going on?

  “Errrr, Katie... Ciao. Uno minuti favore,” he finally greets me, somewhat awkwardly.

  “Ciao, Marco, I'll have a cappuccino when you're not busy,” I say, taking a look at the two women, smiling at them, and then turning to take a seat at the far end in the sunshine.

  A few minutes later he finishes his chat and comes straight over to me.

  “Who's the looker?” I ask.

  “Looker? Oh, I see, bellino, she is pretty, yes?” He pauses and takes a deep breath. Something's coming. I can feel the tension flowing from him. “She's Margarita, and also mamma of Margarita.”

  “So what's she doing here, Marco?” I push.

  “She came to see me, of course.”

  “What for?”

  He pauses and gives me a look. That kind of a look.

  “I'm sorry, Katie. We are now together again...I do still love her.”

  Well I could have sworn he was well and truly over her, and very into me, but what the hell do I know about men? They're all so damn confusing.

  My stomach plunges with acute disappointment initially, but then I realize, this does solve my current dilemma for me. My two men become one, without me having to do anything about it. In any case, at least he's being honest with me about his love life. Whereas, I guess I'm not.

  “Look, it's okay, Marco, really. I barely know you. If you and the love of your life are getting back together, that's fine by me.” I try to save face and sound unconcerned and light-hearted about it all.

  “You are so sweet. And still my very good friend.” He kisses my hand, very quickly and discreetly, with his back turned to Margarita, I can't help but notice.