by J. Saman
My room is decorated in a very New Orleans French way, full of heavy fabrics, gold and damask patterns. It’s gorgeous. I wish I had someone here with me to share it. Eric wouldn’t have like this, though. He would have thought it was too ostentatious, which it sort of is, but come on.
Ryan texts me that dinner is set for eight. Perfect. I have time for a nap.
I wake at seven to shower, loving how smooth my skin is as I change into a dress—a sexy as hell, silver mini dress that I almost threw out when I was packing, but decided to keep at the last moment. I’m glad I did. I want to look how I feel. Radiant. I pair it with my silver strappy wedge sandals.
When Ryan opens the door to my knock, he pauses, taking me in from head to toe. “You’re breathtaking, Katie. So absolutely gorgeous.”
I smile because I can’t help it, and then I launch myself into his arms. He catches me with an oomph and a laugh.
“Thank you, Ryan. Today is on my list as one of the top five best days ever, and it’s all thanks to you.”
He steadies me, running his hand across my cheek. “I’d do it every day to see you smile like this.”
Normally a comment like that would make me frown and feel sad, but it doesn’t for some reason. For some reason it makes me feel bubbly in a way I can’t really express.
“You ready, Katie?”
“I’m ready, Ryan. Dinner and drinks are on me tonight, and you can’t complain, challenge, or protest,” I smirk, throwing his words back at him.
He laughs, but begrudgingly agrees.
I don’t really give him a choice anyway.
We walk out of the hotel into the balmy night, and even though the rain has stopped, the air is heavy and humid. I can feel my hair raising up to a frizz factor of five, so I run my fingers through it and start to try and tame it into a ponytail.
“Don’t,” Ryan stops me with his fingers in my hair. “I like it down like that.”
I give him a look that says, you must be joking. “My hair is a frizzy mess in this humidity.”
“No,” he disagrees. “It’s sexy.”
“Fine,” I surrender. “But promise me that when it becomes an out of control puff of hair, you’ll let me put it up.”
He laughs. “I promise.”
We walk around the corner towards Bourbon Street, and even though it’s a Tuesday in September after a day of rain, the streets are packed. The majority of the one and two story buildings are brick with a lot of wrought iron balconies with intricate balustrades and spindles. Bright neon lights beckon you in to each of the different bars, all promising real New Orleans jazz.
And there are people selling sex everywhere.
Lots and lots of sex.
Oh and you can drink openly on the streets. I’ve never experienced that before.
“Despite the obvious debauchery, it’s really a very pretty city. I mean, the architecture and the old world classic vibe are unique, but I don’t think I could live here.”
“Why not?” he asks as he opens the door for me to some restaurant I didn’t even pay attention to.
“The weather,” I tell him as we enter the dimly lit room that is filled with a lot of red silk and velvet. “I’m not a fan of super-hot and humid. I think the south is out for me.”
He nods in agreement. “I’m the same way. We can head north after this if you’d like. See if any of those places appeal to you.”
“Sure, though I’m not sure if I’m a Midwestern girl either. I love the ocean,” I laugh at myself. “I’m sort of a walking contradiction, huh?”
“No, just particular with what you want. That’s a good thing, especially when looking for a new place to live.”
I smile at that as I slide into the plush, red velvet bench seat. Our table is set up so that Ryan has to sit next to me in the small space instead of across from me. A lot of the tables are situated this way, and I can’t really figure out why.
Ryan is a big guy and he takes up a lot of space and given the confines of our table, our thighs and arms are touching.
“Do you want me to see if they have something bigger?” he asks, noting our points of contact.
I look around the very crowded restaurant and it doesn’t appear to get any better anywhere else.
“Nah,” I wave him off. “It’s a good thing I like you, though,” I tease. “What made you pick Seattle? Or was it the job that drew you there?” And then I realize in the week that I’ve known Ryan, I have yet to ask about what he does for a living. “God, you must think I’m the biggest bitch in the world.” I cover my face with my hands, leaning my head against his arm. “I’m so sorry I never asked about your work until now.”
He nudges my head with the arm that I’m resting against. “I don’t think you’re a bitch and in truth, I don’t like to talk about my work all that much, so I don’t mind in the slightest.”
I look up at him. “Why not?”
“Because some of what I do is… sensitive.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word scrunching my eyebrows.
“Seattle seemed like as good of a place as any for my company to grow, and I have a good buddy there who wants to run a particular portion of it that I’d rather not, so it all works out.”
“Wait,” I hold up a hand. “You own your own business? I don’t understand.”
He looks at me with the most serious of expressions. “Well Katie, much of the world’s consumerism and wealth are driven by business and many people own their own. There are large companies and small companies—” I hit his arm, making him laugh.
“That’s not what I was confused on, you dick.”
He laughs even harder before leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “You’re just adorable, aren’t you? Yes, I own my own company. I have for years, and as much as I love Philly, I needed a change.” He raises an eyebrow. “Surely you can understand that.”
“I can, and I sort of get why you went with Seattle, but you’re awfully cryptic with what you do. Is it a secret?” My eyes widen with intrigue. “Illegal?”
He laughs. “No. It’s not illegal and it’s not exactly a secret, but I don’t like to publicize parts of it either.”
“Then how do you get clients?”
“They come to me by referral and my reputation.”
“Wow,” I lean back and give him a big up and down once over. “So you are sort of big time then, aren’t you?”
He laughs out loud and pulls me into his side. “Adorable, Katie. Simply adorable.”
Chapter 9
Ryan
Tonight’s the night. I realize that makes me sound like Dexter or something, but since I’m not planning on murdering anyone, I think I’m good. No, I’m talking about sex. And how I need to get some. Tonight.
It’s the only way I’ll survive being around Katie, and not touching her or kissing her or doing any of the millions of other things that I want to do.
It certainly doesn’t help that she looks like the goddess from my wildest fantasies tonight.
That silver dress is driving me mad, and the fact that I had to sit pressed up against her all through dinner? Jesus.
We ate all kinds of typical New Orleans fare with the exception of crawfish, since we both agreed that they creep us out. It was awesome and we talked and laughed and it felt like a fucking date. A good date. No, a great date. The kind of date that you hope turns into all night, and all night turns into many more dates.
So now we’re walking through the throngs of people down Bourbon Street hand in hand, pointing and laughing at various things—especially the oversexed and alcohol-ridden establishments and people. Finally, we set our sights on a jazz bar and enter the cave-like room. The walls are comprised of what looks like pressed dirt or clay with several bumps and out-pockets.
It’s dark, as you would expect a cave to be.
The only illumination is coming from several fake candles set up throughout the room, and the blue glo
w over the bar. It’s sexy and intimate, and the jazz music is only fueling the fire.
Katie drags me up to the black shiny bar and we both order whiskeys before finding a small corner in the room to listen. The place is packed, so Katie is pressed up against me and my hand is on her hip—for safety purposes only of course—because she keeps getting bumped into.
Her hips slowly sway to the beat of the drums and bass, and my chin is resting on her head. I’m enjoying the sensation of her against me.
My chin slips from her head and I can’t stop myself before my nose runs through her hair, breathing her in. That one not-so-simple motion does me in, and my hand snakes from her hip to her stomach where it splays against the thin fabric of her dress.
I know I should stop, that what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t.
I need this too much.
Her small body leans back into mine and my breath catches before speeding up along with my heart rate. Maybe this is different? Maybe she’s into this too? What would this mean for the rest of the trip for us, if she was? I know she doesn’t want a relationship. I know she’s not looking for anything, so what the hell am I doing?
And when did I turn into a woman with all of these fucking questions?
We sway like this for the rest of the song and when it’s over, she turns around to look at me. Her blue eyes are smoky and dark in the limited lighting, her skin a little dewy from the humidity. She’s gorgeous.
Katie continues to stare intently at me, not saying anything, just watching me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Normally Katie wears her heart and her thoughts on her sleeve, but right now, she’s holding them back, and this little stare down is getting my heart racing even faster. I don’t know whether to be turned on or apprehensive.
After what feels like the longest moment of my life she swallows hard and blinks, and just like that, the spell is broken.
At least for her it is, because she takes a sip of her whiskey and turns back around to listen to the next set of music that has just started. In this moment, I’m sort of wishing I flew on airplanes, because I need to create some distance between us. Both physically and emotionally, because I can say with one hundred percent certainty, I’ve never been drawn to anyone the way I am to her.
Ten agonizing minutes later and with as little physical contact as I can stand, she turns to me and tells me she’s ready for bed.
Awesome.
I walk her back to the hotel, which is really only four blocks away. When we reach her room, she stops to face me. Her hand glides up to her ever present pendant, grasping it like it’s her lifeline.
“In case I haven’t told you, Ryan,” she says softly, her sweet smile shining up at me. “You’re really special to me. It’s only been a week, but I feel connected to you somehow. Like we were meant to meet.” She tilts her head. “Does that make sense?”
I nod once. “Yes. I agree.” And I do.
“Thank you for being such a good friend to me,” she smiles and I’m gutted with that one stupid word. Friend.
“You’re easy to be good to, Katie, and it works both ways. You’re so special to me, too.” I wrap my arms around her, but pull back just as quickly because I just can’t. She gives me that sweet smile again and then goes in her room. The door clicks shut and my face falls to my hands as I blow out a hot, tormented breath.
I turn slowly, not really wanting to do what I’m about to do, but knowing that I need to all the same.
Before Francesca, I slept around.
And I did so without explanation or regret. I made sure the woman knew the score beforehand, but that didn’t change my methods. They used me just as much as I used them, so it worked and I felt zero remorse for it.
Francesca changed that. But after her, I went back to my old ways because she made me believe that love and attachment lead to hurt.
And fuck that.
But as I make my way back outside, the only place I want to be is upstairs with Katie. I don’t want any of these women, but I can’t have the one I want, and since I’m forced to be around her constantly, I need this.
I need this, I tell myself again.
I’m two steps onto the main drag when I spot my target.
Or more like she spots me. I get the fuck-me eyes and I barely have to return them before she walks up to me.
“Hi. You want to come with us to that bar over there?” The girl points to some place behind her, but I don’t care enough to raise my eyes to see where. She’s cute. Straight brown hair that stops an inch above her shoulders, and dark eyes. She’s dressed for sex, and her friends who are standing a few paces away giggle at their brazen friend.
She doesn’t ask my name or offer hers.
I don’t care.
I’m in.
“Lead the way,” she smiles up at me coyly like she’s about to offer me something entirely new. I doubt that, but what the hell?
I follow the nameless brunette into whatever the closest bar is without a cover charge, and she doesn’t even bother bringing me up to the bar for the ruse of a shared drink. No, this girl is all business. She throws her friends a wink and then takes my hand, leading me through the crowd of people towards the back.
She tries the handle on a broom closet and when it opens, she throws me a devilish smile over her shoulder. She’s taller than Katie, probably closer to five-seven or eight. And she’s not built like Katie either. She’s leaner, more of a model-like build, which I don’t normally find all that attractive. I like curves. She has none, but like I said, I don’t really care all that much tonight.
We get into this small room, and the second the door shuts, I experience total sensory deprivation. I can’t see or hear anything except her breathing and mine.
She rubs up against me, running her hands up and down my chest.
She feels wrong. Too rough and overly aggressive. Her hair brushes against my nose and she smells wrong too. Like strong floral perfume.
But then her hands run down my body, landing on the button and zipper of my jeans. “You’re so sexy,” she breathes out, and I can’t stand her voice either. It’s sharp and feels fake, put on. “The second I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”
I don’t respond, because suddenly she lowers herself to her knees and puts me in her mouth. My eyes shut instantly, though they don’t need to, given the darkness we’re immersed in. She’s good. I’ll give her that. I get the feeling this is not her first go around with anonymous sex in a storage closet.
I’m not judging her; I just suddenly don’t want her mouth on my dick.
So I pull her up and off me, and she giggles. It’s annoying, so I spin her around and slide up her tiny skirt. She hasn’t kissed me or even tried. This is quick and dirty and she’s not complaining at all.
“Yes,” she pants out.
I put the condom on and two seconds later, I’m inside of her. She moans loudly and it’s the fakest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I start to move, but I can’t get into a rhythm with her. I can’t seem to get my head into this, because every time I hear her fake moans and screams, and smell her perfume and feel her too thin body, I lose my focus.
“Shhh.” She doesn’t hear me. She keeps going and I close my eyes again, trying to block her out.
And then I do the worst thing ever.
Something I’ve never done in all my time of random meaningless sex.
I picture someone else.
I see Katie. Her sweet smile looking up at me. Those light blue eyes—the color of the sky—gazing at me. Her perfect body under mine. The feel of her silky skin against my hands. Her smell. Her taste. Her sounds.
And that’s all it takes for me to come hard.
Picturing Katie instead of this girl.
She screams out something, and I can actually feel her body convulse around me. It surprises me that she actually finishes too, considering I put zero finesse, effort or skill into this.
<
br /> “That was amazing, especially at the end. Wow.”
Maybe I did more than I thought when I started picturing Katie? God, that makes me feel so awful. Like complete shit actually.
“You too.” Because I don’t know what else to say.
I zip myself up, find the door and walk away without another word. Straight out of the bar and into the humid night that offers me no solace. I want to go find Katie and apologize. Tell her that I just pictured her while I was inside another woman and beg her to forgive me for sullying her perfection.
I wander around aimlessly for god only knows how long, before I make myself go back to the hotel. For a hot second I’m tempted to go and have another drink at the bar, but I don’t. Instead I go right up to my room and take the longest hottest shower of my life, washing my body so many times my skin is practically raw.
By the time I crawl into bed, I’m wrecked. It’s late and I’m tired.
Worst of all, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I could pull away from Katie entirely. Become emotionally distant and save myself. But then her words from earlier tonight flit through my mind. She said I was special to her. That she felt like she was meant to meet me. I’m important to her.
And I know I can’t pull back.
So is it better to spend whatever time I have with her knowing that I’m only going to get hurt in the end?
Maybe.
Maybe I should just take what I can get with her and deal with the consequences when they happen. And they will happen. Of that I have no doubt. The thought of hurting her is worse than the thought of hurting myself.
I’ll ride this wave with her.
And then I’ll completely wipe out.
Chapter 10
Kate
We end up spending two days in New Orleans, walking around the city, riding the street cars, eating and drinking way too much and having a good freaking time.