Ten Night Stand

by Mickey Miller

  “It’s nothing,” she says.

  I catch a glimpse of the phone, and I swear I see a nude photo of some girl, but I don’t say anything. I must have seen it wrong. She makes the drinks for us, and we sit down on the couch.

  “So tell me more about your career as a male stripper,” she says as she hands me the drink.

  I take a sip. “I guess it’s just your average story. When I got back from four years in the Marines, I was living with my cousin, and I didn’t like that very much. I was crashing on people’s couches. No fun. One night, a friend of mine said I should go to Midnight Ride, and I ended up getting shitfaced and dancing with a stripper on stage. Apparently they liked my act, because they invited me back. I did it for about a year, and made a bunch of money. It was a good time. But after a while the scene seemed so superficial. I just let it go.”

  She nods as she takes a long pull on her drink.

  “Now you,” I say.

  “Now me what?”

  “Now I want to know one of your secrets.”

  She shifts her body around, perceptibly uncomfortable. Lowering her eyes, she clears her throat and puts one hand over her chest.

  "When I was in college, one time…” she trails off as I stare at her. She’s gorgeous, and when she searches her memory, there’s something that brings a whole other level to the depth I see in her.

  I wait anxiously for what she’s about to say.

  “I had a fling with a girl, once.”

  My jaw hangs wide open.

  Of all the things I’d expected to hear. Something with Nick, maybe.

  "Wow. Okay. Tell me more.”

  She twirls a lock of her brown hair. “Not too much to tell, honestly.”

  “Well you’ve piqued my interest.”

  “Wow. I never talk about this. But she was a fellow nursing student at Michigan State. We were study buddies, and one night were out at the bars, we got dared to kiss, so we did. And I liked it.”

  “Ha. just like Katy Perry song.”

  She shakes her head, smiling. “Oh my God, I think that song might have even been playing when we did it.”

  “So that’s it. You just kissed?”

  “Well, no. We kind of slept together a few times over summer semester. She was this buxom blonde—super sweet girl from Oklahoma.”

  “Holy shit, that’s hot.”

  “So you’re not like...freaked out?”

  “God no. I mean, Krista,” I say, rubbing her leg. “I was a male stripper for chrissake. Even if I did want to judge you, I couldn’t.”

  “That’s a relief,” she says, and I watch the anxiety pour out of her as she physically relaxes further into the couch.

  “N-”

  I’m about to say something that’s my gut reaction to her, but I hold my tongue.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” I swallow my words.

  “I want to know. What were you thinking?”

  I examine her eyes while taking a swig of my drink. If I’m going to be blunt with Krista, I might as well go all the way with my truthfulness.

  “I was thinking that Nick got pissed off about that, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, and the word comes out hoarse.

  “I just didn't know they partied so hard at U of M." I smack myself in the head. “Why did I go to the Marines and not college again?”

  “You seem like you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Plus, you don’t have any student loans.”

  “True.”

  I nod thoughtfully, though I'm honestly a little surprised her secret wasn't something bigger.

  Wrapping my arm around her, I pull her body into me.

  “Can I ask you another question?” she says.

  She snuggles into me, and her warm body feels damn good against my torso. I’m thankful to be doing this ten dates thing in the fall when it gets cold in Chicago. Hopefully there’s a lot of cuddling in our future.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Something I’ve been wondering. I know you weren’t officially an ‘escort,’ but did you ever strip at house parties? And did you ever hook up with any of the girls?”

  I blow out a long, slow breath. “Two questions. Short answer to the first. Yes, I did house calls. And to the second, these house parties—you’d be shocked at what goes on. I always operated by the ‘look but don’t touch’ mantra, but tell that to a bunch of bridesmaids with a big, hard cock in their face.”

  She gasps. “So they did touch it?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the attention I was getting—at first. When I got back from the Marines I was twenty-three, and mind you I hadn’t gotten my wild oats out of me like a lot of people do in college. So I did what any testosterone-driven, hot-blooded male would do. I enjoyed the fuck out of those times. I hooked up with some bridesmaids. Never any brides—although sometimes they’d be drunk and beg for it. I drew the line there, though.”

  I can see her tensing up.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” she croaks. “It’s just, I don’t like picturing you with other people.”

  I run my hand down her arm. “I’m with you now, though.”

  “I know. I don’t know how I got so lucky, though.”

  “You want to talk about luck?” I growl. “I’m the lucky one here. I have a hot-as-hell girl who I’m cuddling with tonight.” I lean in and whisper in her ear. “And as sweet as she can be sometimes, I happen to know she likes being dirty as fuck with me.”

  “Stop,” she gasps. “You’re turning me on so much.”

  “Oh?” I say, and turn my body toward her. “You want me to stop this?”

  I set my drink down and grip her thigh with my hand. She wiggles her hips, squirming just slightly in response.

  “If we’re going to make it the ten dates without sex...you’re going to have to stop. Please, Damien,” she says, such weakness in her voice.

  “Okay. I’ll stop. Just realize, this is what you’re doing to me, Krista. Feel this.” I direct her hand to my cock, which has expanded, my hard length pressing up against the denim of my jeans.

  “Holy fuck,” she moans, her voice a soft whisper as I pepper kisses down her jawline. “Damien, you’ve got to stop now. I want to fuck you so bad, but if we go all the way on the first date, it totally defeats the purpose of what we settled on—getting to know each other before the next time we do it.”

  “You’re right.”

  I stand up, and the way she is sitting, my cock is right at her eye level. I notice her staring at my bulge.

  “But what constitutes ‘it’?”

  “What do you mean, ‘it’?”

  “We’ve said we won’t do ‘it.’ But what if we do something that’s not sex. That’s not ‘it.’”

  She runs a hand down the front of my shirt, then sneaks it underneath to feel the flesh of my abs.

  “Well, what did you have in mind?” she asks.

  Bending down, I guide her face to mine and kiss her once more on the lips. My stomach churns with adrenaline, and I say what’s on my mind.

  “I want to watch you, Krista.”

  "You want to watch me? Like how?"

  My voice is gruff when I answer. "Exactly how you're thinking I want to see you. Don't play dumb. You're a smart girl, Krista."

  I run the back of my finger along her face. I feel her trembling just a tad.

  "Fine," she says softly. "I want to watch you, too, though. While you’re watching me."

  I arch an eyebrow. "That can certainly be arranged, Sweetheart."

  She reaches forward, pressing her hands on my thighs, dangerously close to my cock.

  She glances up at me with a gentle smile. "Well I guess, since you told me your secret. I've never done this before ."

  "Never played with yourself for a man to watch before?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Well there's a first time for everything isn't there?"

 
Leaning down to grip the back of her neck, we press our lips together and kiss ferociously, hungry for each others' mouths. I fall down to the couch on top of her, and we grind our bodies together.

  She melts with relief in my grasp, and I wonder if she feels the same way I do right now. Of all the things I've done in my life, all the secrets I've had, this moment between us feels like our own little secret.

  In this moment, feeling her warm body beneath me, I've never felt so right.

  She lets a throaty moan escape as we embrace. The vibrations of her vocal chords reverberate through my palm, wrist, and forearm as I caress her cheek.

  "Baby," she whispers. I open my eyes and see hers half open in the same pleasure-filled haze I'm in.

  "Yes?" I answer. She pauses, and in that moment I'm on edge. Whatever Krista wants, whatever she doesn't have, I'm going to give it to her. I want to fulfill all of her needs.

  She rubs my forearm. "Next date, I want you to tell me about this tattoo," she whispers.

  "Of course," I say, and she rests her hand on my back close to my ass. It's so fucking hot. "Today is date one. We're just getting started."

  "God, you're gorgeous," she says. "And you want to watch me..."

  "Do your thing, yeah," I smirk.

  "Take off your shirt," she commands, her eyes darting back and forth. I see the idea wheels turning in her head.

  "Ordering me around now, are we?"

  "That's right. You have a problem with that?" she challenges.

  I kiss her softly, lingering on her lower lip and biting it ever so slightly as I pull away. I slip my T-shirt up and over my head, kneeling over her.

  "You can order me around all you want. I might have to start calling you Lieutenant."

  "God you're hot," she mumbles, running her hand over my tattooed torso.

  As I watch her amazed eyes, all the countless hours in the gym, all the military training, it all becomes worth it for that impressed look on her face.

  She's got me hypnotized. I think I'd do anything this woman said in this moment.

  "Stay right there," she orders.

  I'm hovering inches over her, holding up my torso by putting my arms in a plank position on either side of her head.

  "Just like this?" I ask.

  "Perfect. Now help me get my shirt off."

  She sticks her arms up, and I help her get it off. I wonder what she's thinking, but I'd rather have her show me than ruin the surprise.

  She unbuttons and unzips her jeans, revealing a pair of black lace panties.

  My arms hold steady in the plank position. I'm hovering inches over her, so close I can taste and smell her skin but only our legs touch, jeans on jeans.

  I want the to feel her touch so badly. But I hold steady as she slides a hand slowly down her stomach, then runs it under her panties.

  "Ohhhhh," she moans.

  "Oh, Christ," I exclaim.

  I'm so hard I might burst.

  She grinds her hips lightly, hooking a finger into her pussy as she moans below me.

  "Do you like watching me?" she asks.

  "Fuck yeah I do."

  "Good. Because I like it when you watch me."

  She leans back, turning her head and digging her mouth into the couch pillow, and I'm so tempted to break through, to rip off her pants and go down on her right there. But watching her writhe like this—it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

  She arches her back, pushing her tits up into the air toward my face.

  I reach out my tongue.

  They’re fucking millimeters from me.

  “Damien,” she breathes desperately. “Talk dirty to me.”

  I can barely think I’m so turned on by her. It’s even the visual as much as it is the way she talks, when she’s touching herself, half distracted by how turned on she is.

  “You’re so hot when you touch yourself,” I start. “I love the way you writhe and moan when you’re turned on. It makes me so hard.”

  “Oh, Gaaa…” she trails off. I can literally feel the warmth emanating from between her legs.

  I lick my lips. “I can’t wait to go down on you. I can’t wait to lick every inch of your cunt. And I don’t want it to be a one night stand this time, Sweetheart. I want it to be an everyday thing. Call it my morning meal.” I add.

  She breathes out rapidly, then reaches out her free hand to grab my arm.

  “I’m coming,” she mewls, barely audible. Soft moans escape.

  I reach down and kiss her hard, swallowing her moans.

  Her body shudders beneath me as she comes.

  When she’s done, she melts into my arms, and we cuddle on the couch.

  11

  Krista

  On Sunday morning, I wake up at ten a.m.

  I blink a couple times when I look at my clock.

  After my date with Damien, we cuddled and watched a movie before he had to go meet up with a friend later that night.

  I crashed at nine last night, and slept thirteen hours.

  Damn. I haven’t slept that long since I was in college. Since I met Nick. I sit up in bed and stretch. Come to think of it, from the moment we got together, I always slept lightly.

  Maybe it was my sweet release last night—physically and mentally. Telling Damien my secret about being with a girl in college felt freeing. Although it was a cover-up for the secret I didn’t want to tell him. Date number one is too early for that, right?

  Just then, my phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I shudder instinctively. Anxiously, I check the name and I'm relieved when it's Damien and not Nick.

  Damien: I know you're working tonight but I'd love to see you this afternoon.

  Krista: I'm around until six

  Damien: Late lunch early dinner then? how is three?

  Krista: Perfect. I’m cooking food so come by

  Damien: Oh wow you really are sweet aren’t you?

  I blink at the text I sent Damien, and I realize I've made an error. "I'm cooking food so come by," read one way, sounds like I'm thrilled to host him.

  Not that I don’t mind hosting him, but I meant to say "I'm cooking some food for the week, so if you're okay with eating baked egg quiches, come on by and I'll make one extra.”

  I have a rule about dating. It’s weird, but I don’t usually cook for guys until we are serious. Once they try my chili, they are hooked.

  And I want the chili to be a reward, not something that ropes them in.

  I rally myself out of my room and check inside my fridge. There's creamer and some leftovers from the breakfast I had on Friday. Well then. Looks like I'm taking a trip to the grocery store.

  I hop in my trusty 2003 toyota Corolla and head to Mariano's, the grocery store on the west side about a mile from my place. In the car, I turn on the radio to an oldies station, and the song Secret Agent Man comes on.

  My grip on the steering wheel tightens, and I tune out the sounds of the city on this cloudy grey day. Anxiety builds in my chest as I wonder about my own secrets. Since Nick and I parted ways, Damien is the first man I've let near me physically. But also psychologically. I can feel my walls coming down around him. That scares me a little.

  The way he looked at me last night, asking me to tell a secret, I thought he might not even judge me for the darkest part of my past. He has a shadowed past of his own, and it seems like he can relate quite well to me. It's something I haven't brought myself to tell a soul, not even my best friend.

  Yet for some reason when Damien looks at me with those tragically sexy kind eyes, he softens me. He makes me feel something that, romantically speaking, I haven’t felt in a long time: hope. I come to a red light and smile. The very fact that he’s willing to wait to have sex, ironically makes me want him all the more. The way I held his arm last night while I—

  The car behind me honks loudly, several times, shooting me out of my daze.

  Geez, asshole.

  You didn’t even let me finish my quick pleasure flashback.

  I t
urn left and pull into Mariano’s. Inside, I think about what to make. For some reason, when I think of cooking for Damien I want to impress him in a weird way. And making basic baked egg cupcakes doesn’t seem very impressive. I settle on getting the ingredients for chili. That way I can cook something delicious for the night and still have leftovers for the week.

  Walking through the store, I gather the necessary items. Tomatoes, beans, garlic, an onion, ground beef.

  My phone buzzes in my purse and I smile, thinking of Damien. We’re starting to get onto the same wavelength. He knows I’m thinking of him, I bet.

  My heart about drops to my knees when I see the text.

  Nick: Looks like someone is eating good tonight

  My heart speeds up an extra twenty beats per minute. “What. The. Fuck,” I mutter out loud.

  Krista: This is it. I’m blocking you. Sick of your shit.

  Nick: Sure. Block me. It won’t matter though

  Anxiety filling me, I click on options for Nick’s number and block it. I don’t know how he figured out I’m in the grocery store, but this sort of stalking is crossing the line. I turn down the aisle for spices, and pick up the cumin. Just then, I hear someone walking behind me, and a hand falls on my shoulder. I jump.

  It’s Nick.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?!” I belt. I knock over a few of the spice containers.

  “Did you have a good date with your plumber yesterday?” Nick asks in a low voice, ignoring my question.

  My hand with the cumin shakes. I glance around the aisle, but there’s no one here. I grab hold of my cart and start walking. Nick tries to block me but I push him aside. He gets in front of my cart and holds it.

  “You gonna answer me?” he arches an eyebrow my way.

  “Why should I? You never answered me. Let go of my cart, please,” I say firmly.

  Inside, I feel my frustration with Nick turning to rage. I’m done with him. I’m so done.

  “I’m going to need you to stop seeing him in any way, shape, or form,” Nick says, holding onto the cart with all his might so I can’t pull it away.

  “Nick. You listen here.” I step away from my cart and get right in his face. My voice is as sharp as a knife. “We used to be a thing for a long time. I gave you many chances. Many. You blew them all. It’s best for both of us if you just move on. You’re not getting anywhere with me. And being stuck in the past is no way to live your life. It’s over between us.”