by Watson, Meg
The second stranger chuckles in a friendly way. “But the champagne is better?”
I nod and look back at the first man, then away. Then back. At first it's a relief to stop staring, and then I am desperate to stare at him again. He hardly seems real. He's too thick, too big. His skin is so strange. Those charcoal grey eyes are like the shiny eyes of a mannequin or a doll. He looks like he was inked in, like a superhero.
“You seem like a champagne sort of woman.”
And here is his companion, looking like he exists just to be in contrast. Just to frame up how truly strange the first stranger is.
I practice keeping my eyes down. To my surprise, I’ve already drunk half of this glass of champagne. Okay. This seems about right. One and a half drinks. Two at the most.
“Where are you from?”
“Does your friend talk?” I interrupt.
He looks at the first man. “Roman? No. Not much. When he does, it’s pretty good though.”
“Okay,” I say, pausing.
“So, where are you from?”
I wince, remembering that I just said it wasn't from here. Then where am I from?
“New York… Queens,” I stumble. Just in case he is also from Queens, I picked a place that I've actually been to a few times and could probably fake my way through a discussion about if I have to.
“Oh,” he says, nodding. “New York. That's an interesting city.”
Oh good. They’re not from New York. “And you?” I ask politely.
“Atlanta,” he explains.
Excellent. They’re not from Chicago either. They’re not family, that much is obvious. Probably just passing through. From the look of them, this one is an eyebrow model. And the other one is a lumberjack. Maybe a circus strongman. Perhaps a professional pylon or something.
His fingertips tap against each other, one at a time. It's nice that he’s showing me his hands. In my family, the men either hide their hands because they’re about to do something bad with them, or they wave them in the air when they’re talking. That's another Italian thing, the hand-waving. It's not a racist cliché if it's true, right?
The piano man is joined by a violinist, and they begin an energetic duet of another song that I think I know. This time I think it's actually some kind of country tune, and the two blonde ladies at the end of the bar start clapping and singing words I don't understand.
“What's your name?”
I'm not sure if I actually heard him say those words, or if he spoke them directly into the middle of my brain. It's getting kind of loud in here, and yet I know he was speaking to me.
“Marie,” I answer honestly. I should probably have given him a fake name, but I forgot. That's probably good, now that I'm thinking about it. What if he called me by a fake name and I forgot to answer? It's probably better to stick to as much of the truth is I can.
The first man inhales deeply through his nose, flaring his nostrils. It's like I can't stop looking at him. Still on the fence. Beautiful? Tragic? I don’t know.
“Roman?” I say tentatively. His eyes flicker up to mine and he nods once. I look at the other one. “And you?”
The second stranger smiles broadly. He has all his teeth, and they’ve been polished to a healthy gleam. “Alek,” he answers in a low voice that gives me shivers.
“Roman and Alek,” I repeat to myself, turning the names over on my tongue. “You’re brothers?”
Alek barks a charming laugh. “Very much so. Roman got the good looks, I got the brains.”
I laugh in spite of myself. They’re terribly cheesy lines, and yet something about his voice is very magnetic. I want to hear more of it.
The ladies at the bar start singing loudly with the violin’s melody. When I glance toward them, I see all the way to the front of the foyer. The revolving doors swing and a group of gangly women sort of tumble in. A bachelorette party, it looks like.
Right after them, two tall, dark-haired men come in. They pause for a moment just inside the lobby and look around, their eyes sweeping over the room in a practiced gesture that I've seen a million times.
They’re family. Oh my God. They already found me.
I turned back toward the stranger and take a short, hiccuping breath. “And are you staying here?”
Too fast, I realize. But oh geez, I'm about to get dragged out of here by my elbow with my mission aborted.
Roman squints toward the lobby, apparently reading my mind again. Then without changing his expression, his eyes slide back to me and I think he nudges his brother.
“We are,” Alek answers simply. “Are the rooms nice?”
My fingers pluck at the edge of the paper napkin again. I'm going to start tearing that thing in the shreds of something doesn't happen soon.
Or maybe I should just go. I mean, if Daddy sent them all the way here to find me, maybe I should just go with them. This is sort of a crazy scheme, right? I should probably just go.
“I, uhm, I don't know if the rooms are nice. I'm not staying here… Exactly. I've never seen the rooms.”
His eyes twitch back toward the lobby just for a millisecond, so fast I don't even see it. But I'm almost certain that he looked.
“What did you say?” he leans forward.
I shake my head, indicating that the music is too loud for me to explain myself again. I don't want to be raising my voice and drawing the attention of those guys in the lobby.
Alek purses his lips again and does that head cocking thing. “It's too loud in here,” he shrugs. “Will you come with us?”
My stomach jumps, instantly knotting itself into a tangle. Like go with them? Both of them? Just like that?
I can feel Daddy’s guys behind me. I know they’re there. I absolutely know it. I stick my hand into the bottom of my purse, but Alek already has a couple hundred dollar bills tucked under the base of his champagne glass.
Roman slides out of the booth after Alek and they both stand behind me, conveniently enough. When I rise up out of my seat, I don’t think anybody can see me. They’re so big, they totally shield me from anything in the direction of the lobby.
Hoping that there is a back exit out of the bar, I head toward the rear part of the piano area. A small hallway curves off to one side and I hear the familiar ding of an elevator. That quickens my steps, encouraged.
Roman is so close behind me as we head toward the elevators that I can hear his breath. It's sort of a low, continuous growl. It's like having a predator right behind me, something that's hunting me through the hotel hallway. My hips sort of tremble and I hold out one hand to trail my fingers along the wall, just in case I’m going to swoon in that direction.
“You're all right?” Alek asks as he reaches forward to press the small round button.
“I am. I only had a couple of drinks, it was just so loud…”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I walk in first and Alek punches the number ten with his thumb. There’s a rushing sound in my ears like I'm on the water or something. I can barely hear and I feel like my vision is going to go all snowy at any second. Have to breathe slower.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
Roman is looking at me like I’m some kind of strange animal he’s afraid to touch. Like I’m not even real. Like I’m a doll or something. It makes me want to say something, to prove I’m real. As the elevator pushes upward I move toward him, watching my hands go out like they don’t even belong to me.
When I first touch him, he presses his lips together for a second like I hurt him, burned him. Then my hands slide around the back of his neck and I pull. I want to feel him. All the words leave my mind and I’m just a jumble of desires, with everything dragging me in one direction.
He resists me for a moment, then lowers his face to mine, pausing just millimeters from me as though he’s unsure. I can smell the champagne on his lips as his face blots out the overhead light. Tugging harder, I pull myself toward him.
And then he is kissing me, and every
thing explodes. His lips are on my lips. Hands circle my ribs, lifting me up. More hands slide down my hips — Alek? Yes. I’m pinned between them with hands everywhere, kisses on my lips and neck, a heavy weight pressing me flat.
Roman’s lips plunder mine, crushing me almost painfully. I’m hungry for him in a way I’ve never felt before. I feel hands — Alek? Roman? I can’t know for sure and it doesn’t matter — stroking me, massaging me, lifting me into the air and suspending me between them.
The elevator doors slide open again and the men release me. I drop to the floor, slightly confused and trembling, but wanting more, so much more. Alek walks out, pivoting confidently to the right. I follow him with Roman right behind me and after a few seconds we reach the door. The door to a hotel room. Their hotel room.
Alek slides his key card into the slot and then pushes the door with one hand when the light turns green. He holds the door open with his palm flat against it so that Roman and I can move inside. The room is totally dark.
I walk in, holding my breath and trying to seem as nonchalant and confident as possible. I hear the door close behind me and the deadbolt clicks into place. Suddenly Alek is directly behind me, his breath curling around the outside of my left ear. Roman is in front of me again and I peer up at him, staring into his fathomless eyes as he pulls me closer, or Alek pushes me closer, I can’t be sure.
The light snaps on when someone flips the switch and I flinch.
“Don’t do that,” I say instinctively.
Roman makes a sort of grunting sound of surprise and backs away, holding me in front of him as though ready to release me. “Don't do what?”
I struggle to form the words. “Um… Leave the lights off. I have a headache or something.”
“Or something?” Alek whispers behind me. He is also completely still.
I nod, knowing it makes no sense. I'm not sure how many more lies I can tell tonight, so it's better if I don't say anything. And I don’t want any more words in my head. I want to just feel, just plow forward without thinking too much.
Roman takes a half step back and I can just barely make out the shadow of his figure. He's six or eight inches taller than me, I can't tell. Almost twice as broad. And hot. So hot, he's like a furnace. I feel myself start to tremble in my middle. Like a puppy.
He seems to be looking over my shoulder, probably communicating with his brother behind me.
“Aren't you afraid to be here in the dark with us?” he growls.
He knows. I know he does. Yes. I'm terrified. But I try to remind myself that this is what I wanted. I wanted to do something totally unlike me, totally secret and strange and exciting and terrifying. Now, while I still can.
“I'm not scared. You... seem like nice men.”
He inches back toward me. He is so close that when I take a breath, my breasts brush up against his broad chest.
“I am not a nice man, Marie.”
I need to do this. I want to do this. I do. That's why I'm here.
“I’m not leaving,” I whisper.
“You’re sure?” Alek asks behind me. I nod urgently, silently begging them to not ask me again, don’t let me falter, don’t make me leave.
Roman hovers closer to me. In the darkness I feel, rather than see, his head dipping to each side of mine as though he's inhaling me. He so warm that when he begins to put his arms back around me, it's like a cocoon of heat. A matching heat approaches me from behind and I hear the tiny, rough sound of the teeth on the back of my zipper as Alek pulls the tab down.
And yet, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stand up for much longer. My core trembles in increasingly dramatic shudders. It's as though something inside me is shifting tectonically. I am on the verge of an earthquake. I have to do something, or I'm going to simply vibrate into dust.
A palm slides up the bare skin of my back and cups around the back of my neck. At the same time, another hand finishes with the zipper at the base of my spine and I feel a thumb tracing a tiny circle there.
I push up on my toes and find Roman’s mouth again in the darkness. The relief of that renewed contact is so great I hear myself sigh. Alek presses me forward, into Roman’s body, pinning me between them as Roman’s mouth crushes against mine.
I want this. Every part of me wants this. As hands slide over and around every part of me I feel totally found, as though I’m being explored by mapmakers. Everything comes alive as it’s touched. I light up like I’ve been discovered for the first time with sensations too numerous to even separate into distinct pieces.
Everything blends together like a storm, a raging sea. His two hands hold me at the back there and it's almost like my body gives up, goes limp and pliable. The hands are so wide and strong that I am utterly cradled in them. Someone nudges me with his thumb against my jaw, and I automatically tip my head back and find Alek’s lips. His mouth covers mine in a rush. The strain on my neck is intense but I have to do it. I have to taste him too, to get the second flavor on my tongue and into my bloodstream. The urge is cell-deep, undeniable.
My breath is gone. I feel like we've just been climbing to the top of a roller coaster, and have now just passed the crest. Everything speeds up. One mouth begins to consume mine, obliterating the borders of my lips and he's kissing the inside and the outside of my mouth at the same time.
I've never been kissed like this. It's as though he's consuming me, sucking on my lips and running his tongue along the ridges my teeth. It's so intense, I can barely keep up and finally just relax my jaw and let him do what he wants to me. He catches my tongue between his teeth lightly and draws it out of my mouth. It's so intimate, so strange, yet so welcome. Enveloped in these arms I feel strangely, utterly safe.
Then someone is carrying me. My arms reach up to fold behind a thick, strong neck and I hold my wrists together. I'm off the ground and we’re moving, and in seconds I’m laid across the silky, fluffy comforter on the bed.
Hands are everywhere. I feel them behind my neck, pinching my nipples through the front of my dress, through my bra. I need more. I need to be naked. Wriggling my shoulders, I work the dress down and pull my arms out to free myself. I hear a chuckle low in someone’s throat and someone squeezes the back of my neck, hard.
I can’t remember anymore which body is which. I’m on my back on the bed with a man on either side, but in the commotion to get here I don’t know which one is Alek and which one is Roman.
“More? You want more, Marie?” comes a low, sultry voice that I think is Alek.
“Yes,” I breathe. All I can think of is more. I'm like a map, laid out in front of them. Every part of me is aching to be explored, to be named.
I hardly have to say it. I know they know. Hands slide the dress off me in one motion, and someone shifts next to me and moves me to the center of the bed like I weigh nothing. Like I'm a doll in his hands. I arch my back in anticipation.
It's a relief to know that it's happening now. No more waiting, no more wondering. We passed the point where I could probably still turn this off. My whole body is on some kind of autopilot, some kind of urgent, automatic vector.
I feel fingers hooking underneath the ribbon ties of my panties. It's a pity he's not going to be able to see them here in the darkness. I've always had a special affection for girly underthings. But he seems to know. His fingers find the end of the bow and tug, freeing me from the silken panel. I hear his breath catch in his throat and I think he appreciated it, even though he can't see the frilly pink sheen of the silk.
Softly, his fingers brush over my swollen lips as another hand pulls my knee to the side. He pauses for just a moment and sweeps his hand lightly between my legs, cupping my entire sex in his palm. Urgent, seething want pools in my core. I feel my hips roll against him as I try to maneuver myself harder against his skin.
Was he waiting for my encouragement? Because as soon as I'm done with that motion he groans and rolls me to my side, his tongue plunging into my mouth. The other body lines up behind me, foldi
ng my knee over his leg so that he is holding me open for the man in front of me, offering me like a gift.
I feel fingers sliding against my slick furrow. His thighs are like rocks, and they catch my bottom leg between them and squeeze hard. I can feel his erection against my hipbone, solid as a sledgehammer.
When his fingers explore me deeper, stroking against my clit, I find myself pushing up on my heels to rock my hips against him harder. The body behind me surges encouragingly, angling me for the perfect presentation. Every time that I sigh or moan, his enthusiasm only mounts. Encouraged, I dare to press a little harder, grind a little more ambitiously against the hand that is exploring me.
“Marie, Marie,” he says in a warning tone. It’s Roman in front of me, I am sure of it now. “If you keep doing that, I'm not going to last.”
Did he just say that? I feel a little swell of something like pride. Did I just make this enormous, freakishly sexy man nearly lose control of himself? Is his brother Alek really behind me, offering my body like a gift?
Is this really happening?
I don't even know what to say to that, I just rub my slit brazenly against his fingers. His groan is all the encouragement I need, and I press again, sliding myself against him until the tip of his finger is right there at my entrance.
And then, suddenly, I remember to be afraid. This is going to hurt. I know it is. And even though the lights are off and no one can see me, Roman has got to know. He can probably tell I'm a virgin right now just touching me.
And Alek, behind me? Oh my God, what am I supposed to do with him?? Have I lost my mind? I can feel the hard fist of his cock pushing against the base of my spine. What if he wants to be inside me? Like… Oh my God, do people do that?
Oh my God.
“Marie, you're so tight,” Roman murmurs in my mouth as he is kissing me.
I only nod. I don't know what to say. If I tell them, they’ll probably stop and I don't want them to stop. There is a kind of emptiness inside me that absolutely has to be filled, and quickly.