Kiss a Stranger

by R. J. Lewis

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he answered softly. “I want to see you again.”

  I rubbed my chest, feeling that thread pull tight around my heart again. “I want to see you too.”

  “How about dinner tomorrow? Unless you have plans or that’s too short notice.”

  “No, I have no plans, Ben,” I told him honestly. I was not going to be playing hard to get to a man I wanted beyond words. “You were the first person outside of Emily that I spent time with for… many months.”

  “Yeah? Well, you too, beauty. So forgive me if I fucked it up by not reaching out sooner. I’m not used to chasing a woman, and I’m a little rusty.”

  I smiled and my heart swelled. “You don’t need to chase me. I’m not running.”

  “Good,” he whispered. “That’s very good.”

  “Tell me when you’d like to pick me up and I’ll be ready for you.”

  “Six o’clock. I’ll have someone pick you up, and I’ll meet you in the city.”

  Uh, what? He wasn’t going to pick me up himself? “Okay,” I said anyway.

  “Alright. So how was your day?”

  “Long. I was at Uni all day. Night class and all.”

  “What time did you get home?”

  “10:30.”

  “Do you drive? I saw a car in the driveway when I was there, but you hadn’t driven it that night.”

  “That’s my mother’s car.” Might end up being mine if she decided to live in Melbourne.

  “So how do you get home?”

  “I take the bus home.”

  “Really, on your own?” His voice went hard, and I detected the concern in it.

  “It’s not unsafe or anything.”

  “But you’re beautiful, and you’re riding buses at ten at night, alone.”

  “I’m not beautiful,” I retorted. Not anymore. “I don’t get hassled or anything. Believe me, it’s safe, and I only walk a block home when I get off.”

  Please don’t be like those overprotective men! Please, please, please!

  “Alright,” he eventually said, though he sounded entirely unconvinced. “As long as you’re careful, and you don’t talk to strangers.”

  I let out a laugh. “That’s how I met you.”

  “Yeah, but you kissed me. That makes me different.”

  I blushed. “True.”

  In a curious, hushed tone, he then asked, “Have you ever kissed someone in similar circumstances before?”

  “No.”

  “So why did you kiss me?”

  “We had this talk before.”

  “I’m not satisfied with the answer.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry, but that’s the only answer you’re going to get. Unless you find a way to convince me otherwise.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Are you flirting with me?”

  I twirled my hair around my finger, grinning so wide my cheeks ached. “Maybe.”

  “Hmm.” I heard slight movement on his end before he said, “Have you thought about our time together?”

  Um, every single second of every single day. “Yes.”

  “Tell me exactly what you were thinking.”

  Images of the way he took me whipped through my mind. I shut my eyes and my body shivered. “I was thinking that I’d like a repeat to refresh my memories.”

  “It wasn’t memorable enough for you?”

  I resisted laughing again. “Maybe it needs to happen frequently enough for me to remember it.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  I rested my back against the wall beside my doorway and struggled with everything inside of me not to jump up and down like a kid at an amusement park. The happiness was all consuming.

  “So what are you thinking right now?” he huskily asked, in that deep, hypnotising fuck me voice.

  “I’m thinking…” I want you here now! I want you to fuck me! Hard and slow like you did before. Make me come twice and leave me breathless and begging for more of you. “That you need to stop talking to me because I have a date tomorrow, and I’d hate to be bad company because I’m tired.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds before chuckling. “Right. I’m sure that’s what was on your mind.”

  “Can’t prove otherwise.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll leave you to it, then, beauty. Would hate to have a tired woman on her hands and knees tomorrow.”

  Holy shit. Holy shit.

  My breath escaped my lungs. I felt short-winded.

  “By the way,” he said after I hadn’t answered, “you’re a blind idiot if you think you’re not beautiful. You’re exquisite. A work of art. And I can’t wait to look into those green eyes tomorrow and tell you that.”

  Wow.

  “Good night, Claire.”

  “Good night,” I replied weakly.

  He hung up and I stood still for an eternity and two seconds. Then I slapped my face.

  Nope, I wasn’t dreaming.

  Dazed, I threw myself back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  “You are so fucked,” I whispered to myself. “And you’re probably going to end up hurt. No one can be this happy forever.”

  Yeah, but I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  Chapter Ten

  Don’t be alarmed

  After class early morning, Emily and I went to Harbour Town to peruse for some good deals on clothes. I tried on about ten million outfits, remembering the rush that came with looking good in something. It’d been a damn long time since I felt this alive being out with Emily.

  I bought a tight, grey sweater dress and black waist belt to wear for tonight. It was modest but sexy, and seemed perfect for a dinner date in the city. Emily was clubbing again, so she stalked the shoe stores before buying three pairs of five inch heels. I wasn’t sure where she was going to store them back at her house.

  “You better not throw them in my guest bedroom,” I warned her.

  “It’s practically my bedroom now, so what do you care?” she replied flippantly.

  “You might as well just move in then.”

  She gasped, stopping in the middle of the shoe aisle to look at me with those blue doe-eyes. “For real?”

  “Mom might be moving to Melbourne, and I can’t be in that house alone. Frankenstein needs a minion, right?”

  She frowned at me. “Don’t call yourself that, and why does Mama Landon want to move away?”

  “Kevin.”

  “Well, he can get his ass over here then! She’s the one with the family.”

  “He bought a house over there.”

  “Is she going to sell yours?”

  “No way.”

  Mom bought our house outright. It had brought her joy after years of heart ache. She would never let it go, even if she moved to another state.

  “So,” I continued, “if you want to move in, you’re more than welcome to. I know how stressful your place can be.”

  Just like me, Emily didn’t have a great upbringing. Her mother worked full time while her father was a bit of a deadbeat drunk that didn’t give two shits for either of them. She avoided her house like the plague if it meant escaping him. I often wondered if she wasn’t telling me something when it came to her family life. It was a door she didn’t leave open wide enough for me to walk through.

  She said she’d think about it, and I knew she wanted to, but something was stopping her. I wished she’d involve me a little more.

  I was waiting for her outside the female restroom, flipping through my phone and reaching out to a few friends when I felt a shiver run down my spine. I looked up from my phone and met the eyes of a middle-aged man in a cheap suit, standing a few feet away from me.

  He was facing me, and his gaze was locked to mine without hesitation. I felt rooted in my spot, ignoring the thoughts inside my head telling me to run away and scream. I found I couldn’t. He continued to look at me with curiosity, and when a woman left t
he restroom, I stirred out of this bizarre trance.

  “Do you need anything?” I snapped, irritably.

  The man just smirked at me and shook his head. “No,” his gruff voice responded, “not yet.”

  He turned away from me and ambled off before rounding the corner and disappearing from view.

  What. The. Fuck.

  If that wasn’t disturbing and creepy, I didn’t know what was. Alarm bells were ringing their tits off in my head, and I just nodded at them, totally immune to the feeling of worry when it’d been an emotion that was my constant in life these days.

  I tried to brush the odd man’s words from out of my head, but they plagued me for hours to come. Was he just a creep that enjoyed scaring young women? It was rational to think so because I’d never seen him before. But it was something I couldn’t be certain about.

  Emily and I did a bit more shopping before stopping by McDonalds for a feed. Two Happy Meals later and we were on our way home. All the while I kept an eye out, taking in my surroundings wherever I went.

  You just never knew what some people were capable of.

  *****

  I stared at myself in front of the oval mirror on my dresser. I’d spent the entire afternoon getting ready for my date with Ben. I tried to stand tall and confident, but I spotted my lie from a mile away.

  I liked the way the dress looked on me. I liked how long and straight my brown hair was. I liked that my green eyes popped out the way they used to when I spent the hour that I did on make-up. And I liked how tall I felt in my three inch heels because it made my legs look like they went on for miles.

  But what I didn’t and couldn’t like were the scars. The way they distorted my left cheek, making them jut out so obviously under the light. The make-up concealed their pinkness, but it couldn’t conceal their shape. Every time I felt good, I just had to look at myself in the mirror and it all had to come crashing down again.

  But Emily was right. Some people had it so much worse, yet I couldn’t seem to channel that into my emotions. Was it really my fault for hating them? How does one even come to embrace such obvious imperfections? Ones that spoke of some horrid event in your life. It was like your life story was hanging out for the world to see. They just had to look at you and know, “Well, shit, something bad happened to that poor, poor girl. Just look at her face. She might have been beautiful once.”

  I shut my eyes and breathed in and out. I didn’t want to pity myself, not when I had been so excited all day. So I thought about Ben and the way he looked at me. He had never given me that pitying look I was used to seeing. He just looked at … well, me.

  “Maybe I am beautiful,” I whispered to myself. “Maybe if I learn to see what he does, I’ll feel okay.”

  The door knocked just then, and I glanced at the time. 6pm on the dot.

  I grabbed my purse and hurried to the front door.

  “I’m here for Claire Landon,” said a man once I opened it.

  I looked past him and at the driveway where a taxi was running beside Mom’s car.

  “That’s me,” I told him uncertainly. “Who called you out here?”

  “Mr Costigan did, Miss.”

  “And where are you taking me?”

  “Northbridge. To an Italian restaurant.”

  “Okay.”

  He went back to his taxi and I followed taking small steps. I wondered why on earth Ben was sending a taxi out to my place instead of just picking me up. It baffled me.

  Nonetheless, I climbed into the taxi and he took me into Perth city. It was dark by the time we were on the roads of Northbridge, and the smell of rain was in the air. Large clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the moon.

  He stopped the car in front of a very reputable restaurant. “This is it,” he said.

  “Am I meant to pay you?” I asked him wearily.

  “Already been paid,” he answered.

  Oh, thank God. I didn’t bring a lot of cash on me.

  I stepped out and waited in front of the restaurant. The street was backed up with traffic and the sidewalks crowded with people ready to have fun on a Friday night. Northbridge was a mixture of party goers and diners. Restaurants, bars, and clubs brought in a wide variety of people, including troublemakers. You didn’t want to be alone here at night after the rush died down. I heard too many bad stories not to watch out, even in my most rebellious days.

  “You look stunning,” said a deep voice in my ear.

  I whipped around and met dizzying grey eyes that could only belong to one man. And that man looked delectable in a grey, pinstriped suit.

  “So do you,” I replied, smiling.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Hug him? Shake hands? Do nothing? Standing out here in front of a classy restaurant with him looking all money the way he did, I felt a little out of my depth.

  Ben, on the other hand, was striking and calm. His demeanour spoke of his comfort, but his eyes gave away his thoughts. He was looking at me like there was no place he’d rather be, and fuck if that didn’t steal my breath away.

  As if answering my thoughts – or perhaps he could read it all over me like I was some book he could flip the pages through – he dipped his head and kissed me softly. I melted straight into him, closing my eyes to feel the light sensation of his soft lips. His hand touched my cheek as he prolonged the kiss, moving his tongue intimately between my lips.

  When he finally pulled away, I was breathing heavily. My skin was prickly all over, and my core a heated mess that wanted Ben’s hard touch more than anything.

  “I like it when you’re relaxed,” he told me. “It happens when you’ve let go and stopped thinking. You ask yourself too many questions. So let’s forget all that rubbish that’s going on in there” – he pointed to my head – “and focus more on what this wants.” He rested a hand over my heart. “Sound good, beauty?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it does.”

  “Good.”

  He took my hand into his own and steered me into the restaurant, moving to the front of the line where the hostess was. I looked back at the line-up where ten faces were fuming at us. I shrugged as a weak apology for why Ben had cut the line.

  But the hostess didn’t look bothered at all. Instead, her eyes brightened and she exclaimed, “Mr Costigan! So good to have you here tonight. Let me take you to your table.”

  “We can take ourselves,” Ben replied. “It’s the usual, right?”

  “Yes, certainly!”

  “Send someone to see us soon.”

  “Absolutely. You have a good dinner, Mr Costigan.”

  “Thank you, Shelley.”

  I wasn’t sure if her bright hazel eyes could sparkle any more than they just did when he said her name. She blushed, eyeing him up and down like she was ready to blow her ovaries up just to have him. Not once did she acknowledge my existence, but I was sure it wasn’t intentional – she simply had eyes for Ben and no other.

  Ben took us up a staircase to the second level where the noise fell away. The setting was classier than the first level. Tables were distanced from each other, giving it more of an intimate touch. We settled around a table adjacent to a large window overlooking the crowded streets below.

  Like the hostess had promised, a waitress saw us not a minute later, handing us each a menu before she filled our glasses with water. She wasted no time trying to please him too.

  “What’s with all this recognition?” I asked him after the dazed waitress left.

  “I know the owner,” he answered with a vague shrug. “Nothing special about it, believe me.”

  “If I knew being friends with owners got me into places, I’d have jumped straight on that.”

  He smirked. “Not friends, Claire. I just know him.”

  Righto. I looked through the menu briefly and felt a headache come on when I spotted the prices. Bloody hell, one course was equivalent to a mortgage payment.

  “See anything you like?” he asked.

  “The Calamari dish looks good,” I ans
wered because it was the only damn thing I knew on here.

  He waved the waitress over and we ordered our meals. “Any drinks?” asked the waitress when we had the appetisers and main courses down.

  Ben looked to me. “Anything?”

  “Just water,” I told the waitress.

  “Same,” said Ben.

  “You don’t have to avoid alcohol just because of me,” I told him when she took off again.

  “What kind of gentleman would I be if I drank and you didn’t?”

  “The normal kind?”

  He chuckled, and, god, how I loved the sound of it. “Maybe I’m not normal.”

  “No, you’re definitely not. But I admit, I’m sort of curious to know what you’d be like if you were drunk.”

  The look on his face was difficult to read. “I don’t get drunk, Claire.”

  “Why not?”

  “I like being in control.”

  I nodded, completely understanding. “Me too.” More than you’ll ever know.

  To my surprise, the food arrived in no time. The waitress lingered around, making small chat with Ben and letting him know if he needed anything – anything at all – that she would be there. It was hilarious.

  The food was absolutely divine. The best I’d ever had, and it sure beat the happy meal from this afternoon. But I was weary of how much to eat, knowing well that it most likely would be meeting the toilet bowl in the morning.

  “How long have you lived here?” Ben asked me.

  “Over ten years,” I answered.

  “Quite a while. What made your mother decide to come here after leaving Michigan?”

  “My mom’s Australian. She met my father when she went to the states on a work visa. She worked as a nurse there, and he lived at the apartment complex she did. They got married only a few months after dating, and when she had me, we moved around a lot. My father didn’t want to be in one spot too long. So when I said Michigan to you before, I meant really that I was born there.”

  “Where did you grow up then?”

  “Everywhere. They travelled a lot, and when Mom wanted some stability, much to my father’s resistance, they settled in Ohio. I don’t remember much about actually living there. I was too concerned with my parents’ relationship.”