by Xavier Neal
Exhaustion kicks in damn near immediately. I rest my forehead against her shoulder while she lightly presses the side of hers against mine.
“Got food?” The question makes me chuckle. “I haven't had dinner yet.”
Lifting my face up, I ask, “How does pizza sound?”
“As long as it's not cheese, we're good.”
See. She gets it.
Hours later, after another four rounds that stretched from the living room to the stairs and eventually to the top where my bedroom is, we're under my sheets, with two pizza boxes splayed open between us.
“Why am I watching this shit again?” Ari mumbles with a mouth full of pizza.
“My place. My T.V.”
“But it's boring.”
“It's boats,” I correct her on another swallow. “I like boats.”
“Which is why you have a blue anchor tattoo on that firm ass of yours?”
I give her a wink.
Yeah. An anchor to keep me attached to my favorite thing in the world.
“Okay, so like all boats or yachts in particular?”
“Boats. Yachts. Ships.” Leaning back with my arms folded behind my head, I add, “Size doesn't matter.”
She giggles and glances over her shoulder at me. “Most women would disagree.”
“You know my size firsthand, baby.” I wink once more. When she rolls her eyes I turn my attention back to the television. “If it really bothers you that much, I'll change it after this show ends.”
“It doesn't,” Ari replies as she leans back beside me. She offers me the last bite of her pizza crust. “Have you always been into boats?”
With a nod I take the crust, inhale it in one bite, and pull her feet into my lap. “Yeah. My grandfather used to build the ships in the bottle. I got a few from his collection when he died. They're downstairs on my bookshelf. He also taught us to sail. My father gets seasick pretty easy, so he's not a huge fan. Depending on what cause is up my brother's ass for the week varies his opinion on the activity while my sister hates anything that threatens to wash away the product in her hair. What about you? You like sailing?”
“I can't say I've ever really been sailing. However my favorite song is 'Come Sail Away' by Styx.” Ari offers me a bright, playful smile. Sinking into my touch, she continues, “I've been on yachts, but they were always docked.”
“Then we will put that on the list of things to do outside of sex.”
The moment the sentence is out of my mouth my body stiffens in question.
Did I really just say that? Do I...do I want more than sex? Will you stop with that? This is just sex break food. It's not a real date. The foot rubs? I just happen to be really good at it. Give me your feet and I'll show you.
Her voice shakes. “We have a list?”
“Um...” is all that makes it out of my mouth. My head rolls around so our eyes can connect. “Do you...do you want a list?”
“I don't know. Do you?”
“Do you?”
“You asked me already.”
A light laugh escapes as I nod. “I did. I'm sorry. I'm not- I don't usually have this problem.”
“So we have a problem?”
Uncertain how I keep getting my foot in my mouth, I clear my throat. “No. I meant....”
Her brown eyes widen in anticipation.
What did I mean? Maybe it would be a good idea to see if I like her outside of sex. That way I could prove to myself that that's all this really is. Oh don't be so optimistic. The chance of liking her outside of fucking for longer than it takes to refuel is so slim it's not even worth considering. It's okay to think about a date or two with her. It's not like I'm planning a fucking marriage proposal.
“You meant....?” She prompts me to finish.
“How about we go out tomorrow night?”
“Like a real date?”
Smiling I sigh, “Yeah.”
“With clothes on?”
“In public.”
“Oh!” She pretends to gasp. “Fancy!”
The two of us laugh and I lift eyebrows. “Is that a yes?”
“Keep rubbing my feet like that and there's not much I'll say no to.”
“There's already not much you'll say no to,” I tease turning the T.V. volume back up.
“Rude,” she mumbles.
“That's not what you were saying forty five minutes ago when my tongue was-”
“Shut it.” Ari points. Once I smirk she tosses her head back at the screen. “Tell me more about why the moisture in the air can be bad for your boat. I mean the host tried but his accent makes him sound like he's got a mouth full of marbles.”
Chuckling through the comment, I answer her, “It can do serious damage. Rust is like boat cancer.”
“Boat cancer,” she repeats and re-positions herself so her head is on my chest. “Now I've heard everything.”
Boat cancer is not a joke. That's not why you're smirking is it? Look, I already told you, the date is just to prove that this really is all about sex. Nothing more.
Ari
“It's a little weird.” I tug on my black sleeveless dress. “You don't think it's a little weird he never has the weekend off?”
“I think it's weird you chose a business dress for a date,” Liz gags. “Take that shit off. You're going out with the guy you're dating. You're not interviewing for a job at The White House.”
After giving her a scowl, I unzip it. “You seriously don't find that...unusual?”
She shrugs and points to the dress furthest from her on my bed. “I think you're over thinking it. What did he say he did again?”
“He said he was a server, but he never said where-”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes? No?”
“Mouth was too busy doing other things, wasn't it?”
Don't fucking laugh with her! Is it my fault he's managed to chemically alter my brain to only obsess about sex whenever he's brought up? Like now. At this rate I'm gonna have to change my goddamn underwear or...give up on wearing them.
“Ari, you worry too much. He's hot. He's great in the sack. He makes you happy. Do the other details really matter?” When she senses she's wearing me down, she adds, “Besides, if you were a waiter, the last place you would want the hot piece of ass you're trying to keep in your bed is the restaurant you work at, rethinking her decision because of your current employment situation.”
On a zip of the new lace backless dress I snap, “I am not that kind of person.”
“I know that.” Liz stands and relocates herself into my bathroom. “But his ego doesn't. So let him keep that shit to himself until he's ready to talk about it.”
She's not known for good advice outside of liquor and condom choices. This is strange.
“Right,” a soft sigh comes out.
“I'm just impressed he not only managed to blow the cob webs off, but convinced you to go out with him where people can see. For the past couple of weeks you two have been hiding away like vampires with the bite marks to prove it.”
Instantly my hand flies to the spot on my neck.
Payback is a bitch.
“You poorly covered that by the way.” Liz reaches for my compact. “I'm gonna fix that and then give you a glow to match the sexiness you're exuding.”
“I can do my own make up.”
She scrunches her face as she hops on the counter. “Clearly not. I can see that hickey from the top of Everest.”
In no mood to fight, I move closer for her to fix the blemish before she does anything else.
Secret truth? I'm kind of excited to be going out. There are so many reasons to not fucking date. The clinginess. The distractions. The constant anxiety of where everything is going and of course the inevitable fear of when will this all be over? Dating is one constant mental terror. And I mean terror. Horror. Break ups are....messy and sometimes life altering. I don't have room for any of the above. Problem is Arik makes it all seem so easy, which I'm sure is just a trap
. Here's the thing though. He works on the weekends and most of the shit I don't get done during the week because we're tangled up in the sheets, has all the time in world to be caught up then. He's not overly sensitive to my crazy hours nor does he try to smother me with endless phone calls. We have this weird, easy vibe between us. I don't understand. I've never seen or heard of anything like it either. Can’t help but wonder if this is because our genitals get along flawlessly or because there's something more here. I don't fucking like the idea of more, but there's something about him that makes me want to at least consider it.
After Liz finishes up my hair and make-up, leaving me looking more like a sex kitten than professional business woman, Arik knocks on the front door.
The perfect timing makes Liz smirk as she opens it. “Oh look. It's maintenance.”
Arik's laughter stops me from snapping at her.
Saved by the sexy sound. Well, that and the sexy look. Holy shit. I don't think I've ever found a man in gray slacks and a black dress shirt this sexy before.
“Good to see you, Liz,” he comments.
“Good to see you in the flesh. Saw your handiwork a few minutes ago.”
I pop her in the arm. “Liz!”
She jokes, “Oh you can poorly hide a hickey all day but I can't compliment the artist?”
Before I have a chance to retort, Arik replies, “It was art, wasn't it?”
“Looked like a heart.”
Proudly he leans against the door frame. “What can I say? I was inspired.”
“This conversation is ridiculous on multiple levels,” I gripe. “So I'm going to grab my clutch and then I'm ready.”
“Since you're not feasting on each other for dinner, where are you going?” Liz prods.
“It's a surprise.”
With the object in my hand I announce, “Then let's go surprise me.”
Arik offers his hand for me to take. As soon as I do, he pulls me out into the hall, planting a firm yet soft kiss on my lips. The sound of my door closing and Liz grumbling is faint in comparison to the instant whimpers falling out of me from my first taste of him for the day.
I'm beginning to think the days are too long.
He pulls back and whispers, “Good evening.”
“Keep kissing me like that and it will be.”
A wide smile crosses his tan face. “We'll get to dessert. Promise. We're just not skipping dinner this time.”
Giggling at the implication, I question, “Does that mean no breakfast?”
The two of us head for the elevator. “There's always breakfast with us, baby.”
“If you're lucky.” My playful retort is met with a nudge.
Arik takes us in his black Range Rover to a small steak house where I enjoy a great cut of rib-eye and he has the lighter choice of Mediterranean chicken. Our conversation is filled with the work bullshit I hardly ever unload on anyone. To my surprise he actively listens. Everything I say is received with more than a smile and nod. He inquires about the little details that if he hadn't been present in the conversation he wouldn't know existed. As soon as I realize I'm hogging the topics, I switch to things that interest him and avoid asking about his job. Arik sweeps me away in fun tales about fishing with his grandfather, his mother's mutual love of music, and his friends he hangs out with during their bi monthly poker games. By the end of dessert, I realize I've never been able to have this kind of connection with anyone before.
I mean, Liz listens and then she bitches and I listen, but this was different. It's the kind of listening significant others do. The unloading of all that bothers you until you're at that peaceful place where their smile soothes it all away. The sharing of intimate stories and mild introductions to the personality of your friends. Oh dear God. What the hell is happening to me? Three weeks and he turns me into this? Holy shit. This is more than just sex.
Outside of the restaurant, I expect him to turn to the left for the parking garage, yet he turns right with gusto.
Quickly I question, “Where are going?”
“One more stop,” he announces.
The two of us stroll to the building at the end of the block. Seconds after reading “The Den” under my breath, he tugs me past the bouncer, and into narrow a gray colored hallway. At the end of it is a single door to the side the woman who is stationed behind a podium.
After one look at us, she nods at Arik. “Mr. McKellan, you're table is ready.”
“Thanks Patty.”
Do you think he's slept with her? What! She was giving him bedroom eyes! No, not jealous. The word you want is curious. Just curious...
She unlocks the door with the press of a button on the stand. The two of us enter a posh and modern decorated piano bar. While the area is wide, the way the chairs and tables are positioned it creates an unmistakable intimate feel. There's dim romantic lighting, which compliments the dark hardwood floors. With a pleased expression, I prepare to compliment the after dinner choice of entertainment since I've never been to one of these before, but am cut off by his pointing of where he wants me to sit. Following his request, I sit at a table in the front row corner while he steps onto the round stage and sits behind the piano.
“Hello, hello,” Arik cheerfully proclaims. “Sorry for my tardiness.” There's a few murmurs and whistles from the audience. “If you've seen me before you know I'm worth the wait.”
His flirtation with the crowd is met with feminine giggles. Casually, I lean back in my seat and observe the cozy group, which mainly consists of couples. There are a few tables filled with gatherings of women, but I seem to be the only single one in the place.
Not exactly single. My date decided to make a pit stop for work before dessert.
“Now, I'm only here for a small set tonight-” There's a few loud disappointed awes. “I know ladies. I know. Why don't we get started right away?” The crowd cheers a bit and Arik's fingers start to move across the keys. “You know this one?” He softly asks in the microphone. In another flirtatious voice he encourages, “I think you do...”
The waitress comes by to take my drink order and after she struts away, I get lost in the very sounds that floored me the moment we met. His luscious voice carries me to a place where nothing else seems to matter.
And while we all know that's dangerous, isn't that what we want when we listen to music? Beautiful freedom?
Arik plays the wedding song of a couple who is celebrating their 10 year anniversary as well as some classic romance requests from the ladies only tables. Being intoxicated by the music rather than the one drink I'm sipping on is a surreal experience.
I can't help it. There's something about the way he brushes those notes that cradles in a secure feeling. One that makes me believe it's okay to feel more than just orgasms with him. To open more than just my legs. When Arik croons there's a mystifying hope that runs rampant through me. It scares the shit out of me.
About an hour later, he sighs, “It's actually my time to get out of here...” The crowd’s objection makes my entranced smile get larger. “But how about just one more before I let Joe up here?” When the audience cheers his fingers land back on the keys. “How about this one? Haven't been able to get it out of my head...”
The beginning notes pull at much more than my attention. When his mouth drops open to sing the first words, I clamp my gaped jaw closed. Flawlessly, he continues to play, his eyes now on mine, serenading me in a room full of people. Every word is filled with the same passion he delivers during sex turning this into an even more intimate act than that. When he gets to the chorus the crowd cheers and starts to sing along playfully with him. His attention only oscillates between me and the keys he's stroking. As he continues, I sing along softly, enamored by the simple gesture of playing my favorite song.
I don't care if he already knew how to play it or if he spent all day learning to play it just for me. Either way, it's hands down the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me.
At the end of the song, the aud
ience applauds and Arik gives a small bow before exiting the stage my direction. He gently grabs my hand and leads us out the back seconds before the next act introduces himself.
A few steps away from the building he says, “Sorry I had to work a bit. Forgot I was scheduled, which isn't like me.”
Gripping his hand tighter, I question, “It isn't?”
“No.” He slides his free hand in his pocket. “Music is my life. Anything I do involving it has always come first. I've never...let it slip like this.”