by Cee Smith
“No, I’m—I’m single.”
“Good. Same here.” I appreciated that he didn’t make me ask because I was almost too afraid of the answer. If a man like him was single, it was only because he chose to be. Was last night his typical night? Does he troll for drunk, vulnerable women to seduce into sleeping with him? Not that he needed his women drunk, but now that I was there stuck with him, I couldn’t help but think about the kind of man stuck there with me. It’s easy when all they have to do is pick up their clothes and leave. There’s nothing messy about it; just follow the typical protocol of creeping to the door quietly, and there are no questions to be answered, no awkward goodbyes.
“Look, this is your house and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, so if there’s anything I could do to make this easier, just let me know. If that’s settled, I think we should look at how long we can actually stay cooped up in here with what’s available.”
“Okay, thankfully I just went grocery shopping yesterday, so the food should last us a bit. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
We both got up from the couch, and he followed me through the dining room and into the kitchen. On the left, granite countertops formed a U shape following the perimeter of the walls. I’m not the cleanliest of people, but I can honestly say that my kitchen doesn’t reflect that. The fridge, microwave, and stove are stark white against the beige walls and tan-colored granite. The floors and cabinets are also white, which helps give it the “clean” look.
“Here is what I have in the fridge,” I said, opening the door and stepping to my left so he could look for himself. The kitchen was small, allowing me little space to open the fridge without hitting the cabinets. He moved in closer, and though he was touching the cabinets to the right, his body brushed against mine, making me think of the first time he touched me in the club.
That was the thing that struck me about Joel; never once had he taken into account his proximity to me. He hadn’t so much as second-guessed the way he touched me. Is this how he typically is with women, with people in general? Or is it just women he has or wants to have sex with? The thought of him sinking into me quickly evaporated when he started picking up the carton of eggs and looking at the dates on items.
If I didn’t just go shopping, I would feel a bit uneasy about him sifting through my fridge. I was usually so busy that there were some weeks I went without shopping and chose to order takeout to save myself the time it would take to shop and cook. Cooking for one felt pointless most nights, especially after twelve hours spent at the office.
“Do you bake?”
“I can get by, why?”
“The storm may cut power, and if that happens, we need to have food that doesn’t need to be heated up in an oven. I suggest we get baking.” He opened up the freezer, pulling out the bags of frozen vegetables and various meats I had inside.
“Do you have a pantry?”
“Yes, it’s just over here.” I walked to the opposite side of the room, swinging open the double doors. Rows of shelves ran from the ceiling to floor on two walls; the third had shelves running halfway down the wall, stopping above the washer and dryer. I flicked on the light and exited the small room, expecting he was going to attempt to stuff himself in there with me, and there was no way there was enough room for the both of us. He waited until I stepped out to enter, and looked around before he picked up the five-pound bags of flour and sugar. He balanced them in his palms, weighing how much was left in the bags before placing them back on the shelf. Like the fridge, the pantry was pretty well stocked with canned and packaged food and unopened snacks.
“You think you got enough condiments in here?”
He turned off the light and stepped out with a sarcastic look on his face. I ignored his comment, crossing my arms across my chest as if waiting for his next assessment of our supply. His eyes licked across every part of my skin. A blaze of rampant desire coursed through his eyes like ivy. He was cocky and arrogant, making him seem somewhat childish, but I knew there was nothing childish about that look. His eyes watched me like I was a mystery to unravel, a puzzle for him to put together, a hidden treasure waiting to be found. I didn’t know what to think when he looked at me like that.
“Show me the water, and then we’ll go over what we should do.”
He deemed the supply of stocked water as “impressive” before we returned to the kitchen where he opened each and every drawer and cupboard silently while I looked on. Once done, he stood in the middle of the kitchen with feet shoulder-width apart, his thick arms stiff against his sides. He looked intimidating this way. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about being stuck with someone I didn’t know, but I thought I would rather have him there than not. I’d never been alone before, not truly. There had always been something to do, somewhere to go, someone to talk to. Could you imagine being stuck somewhere alone, completely alone? That’s worse than prison.
Plus, it kind of helped that he seemed to know his way around during an emergency.
“It looks like you have quite a bit of meat, which should last up to 3–4 days after we heat it, so let’s cook some of the chicken and steaks. You have a gas stove, so I’m not too concerned about cooking everything now. We should be fine on water so long as we stick to a gallon a day per person. You have some orange juice and soy milk, so I think we should switch drinking a glass of each every other day.”
“All right, pretty bird, you ready to show me what you got?”
“Wait, what?” I didn’t know when I zoned out, but his question shook me from my wandering thoughts.
“I already know what you got in there,” he said, his eyes perusing the curves of my body before his head motioned in the direction of the bedroom. I must have blushed ten shades of red before his mouth transformed into that sexy smirk that had me dropping my panties in the first place. Before I could pick my jaw from off the floor, he continued, “you said you could bake…”
“Oh.” I hightailed it to the pantry, like my ass had been pricked with a pitchfork. Turning on the light, I quickly pulled out all the things needed to make most types of baked goods. The large bags of flour and sugar were bundled against my chest with small containers of yeast, salt, and baking soda set atop. Though nothing could prepare me for the sight when I exited the pantry.
Joel was bent over in front of my fridge. The firm, round globes of his ass shining like a beacon in the night, guiding me to safe haven.
The quick intake of breath seized my lungs while every muscle from his shoulders down to his thighs was pulled taut, tempting me with thoughts of how firm yet forgiving his muscles felt beneath my hands. The crap in my hands seemed to fall from my arms, clunking across the counter, as I stayed focused on the way his shirt molded to his skin, highlighting the arch between his shoulder blades.
A couple days alone with that and I would need a rescue team to come save me from this man.
Rules. I put rules in place for this very reason. Something told me I was going to have a hard time abiding by those rules.
Chapter Three
There was something so domestic about working in the kitchen alongside Joel. He looked so comfortable in my home, working in my kitchen and wandering about my house without even an ounce of timidity in his actions. He moved from one end of the kitchen to the other intuitively, as if he knew where to find all the essentials to carve and season the meat that he handled like a professional butcher. I watched while his hands moved across the steak like a lover’s hands, and I grew hot thinking of the way those same hands held me firm the night before. How they dripped down from my shoulders to my hips as if he were committing the touch of my skin to memory.
“Oh, I should probably charge my devices before the power goes out.”
He leaned over the sink to peer out the blackened window. “Yeah, I would get on that. We probably only have a few hours before everything is down.”
Dropping the measuring spoon on the counter, I dashed off to collect my phone, mp3 player, and l
aptop and their various chargers. I brought them all to the kitchen, hooking them up to the outlet next to the fridge. My phone beeped when I pugged it in, alerting me to a few missed messages.
Kerri: Text me when you’re home, so we know you weren’t murdered before you got a good fucking. Teehee.
Kerri: OK, I’m going to assume the sex is soooo good you’re still reaping the benefits.
Kerri: Don’t make me come over there!!! Ugh, I sound like my mother.
Kerri: Is he still there?
Kerri: Storm coming. Be safe! Call me.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Joel over the sound of him pulverizing the chicken.
“OK.”
I double-checked the bars on my phone, smiling at my little bit of luck—three bars. Making my way back to the living room, I sat down and called Kerri back. The phone rang two times before she answered breathlessly. Perhaps I’m not the only one who got lucky last night.
“Are you seeing this shit?” she greeted between huffs.
“I know. I can’t believe it,” I groan.
“Some fucking weathermen—they can’t predict shit like this? I would have got in a quickie last night if I had known it would be weeks before I got any.” Her voice displayed the same sexual frustration we’d been hearing for weeks at the office. I’m pretty sure some of the girls had a pool going of when she’d finally break the spell.
I let out a light chuckle thinking of her reaction to my predicament. She is going to flip her lid when I tell her, or will she be excited for me, or jealous? I didn’t notice when the phone went silent, but it wasn’t long before her soft lilt echoed through the phone folding me back into the conversation.
“OK, spill your guts. I may need all the salacious details to hold me over. Hold nothing back. And none of that shy shit. You’re probably just as freaky as the rest of us.”
“How much did I drink last night?” I whispered, looking over my shoulder to the dining room to make sure Joel hadn’t crept up on me again.
“God, Blaire, you’re such a lightweight. Don’t tell me you blacked out.”
“Well I do remember some things,” I said smiling to myself as I remembered the few good memories that weren’t absorbed by the alcohol sponge that seemed to wipe everything else from the night before.
“Annnnd…”
“Let’s just say he’s big, all over.”
“So he’s got a big dick? Let’s leave euphemisms out of this. Are we talking 6, 7, 8 inches or Guinness-Book-of-World-Records big?”
“It’s definitely porno dick.” I paused, testing to see if she would chastise me for not providing an actual quantifiable number. “I can’t remember much after the third orgasm, but let’s just say I’m still sore.”
“Positions?”
“Jeez, who knew you were a total nympho? You may want to charge your laptop so you can rub one out to professionals instead of a play-by-play of my one-night stand. In the bed—me on top, him on top, him behind, tongue, fingers, the works…more importantly, he definitely has a way with words,” I said, running through the basics. By the time I got to his penchant for talking dirty, I started to feel like the room was heating up.
“Blaire?”
Fuck, he did it again! How did a man of his size move like a snake in the grass, striking without warning? I yipped loudly into the phone and held my hand firmly over the mouthpiece, trying to shield Kerri from the knowledge that he was still there. If she didn’t ask and it didn’t come up, I had no intentions of divulging that of my own accord.
“Yes?”
I imagined my eyebrows were somewhere up by my hairline as I internally questioned his appearance.
“You’re not allergic to anything, are you? I already started seasoning things, but I just wanted to make sure.”
“No,” I breathed, shaking my head.
He returned to the kitchen, and I waited until I heard proof that he’d continued his work before I uncovered the phone.
“Oh. My. God. You have got to be kidding me. He’s still there, isn’t he? You’re stuck there with him. Your own personal sex slave for the next two weeks. Fuck, you don’t deserve it. You’re probably going to let good dick go to waste. I know it. I know you.” Every word was stiff, punctuated. She was more shocked by my circumstance than I was.
“I don’t even know him. I think it’s complicated enough without throwing sex in the middle of all this.”
“Sex is already in the middle of it. The best thing you can do is ride that man through the storm. What’s he doing right now?”
“He’s in the kitchen. We were in the kitchen preparing food.”
“Get out! You’ve got that man in the kitchen already? What the fuck are you doing on the phone with me? I swear, God wasted good parts on you. Get off the phone and show that man around your kitchen.” She said “your kitchen” like it was a euphemism for something else, something I didn’t even want her to explain.
I choked back my laughter. “You know satellite towers may go down, so this could be the last time we speak. Are you going to be OK over there? What about Piper? Have you checked on her?”
“Yes, yes, we’re all OK. Don’t worry about us. Let me say this and then I’ll let you go…you better have more stories for me by the time this storm passes, or you can consider yourself friendless. Bye, my lovely. Mwah.”
When I returned to the kitchen, I quickly put the phone on the charger before returning back to my task. With the dough having risen, I stuffed the loaf pan in the oven before returning to the batter of muffins that I was putting together before I got sidetracked.
Three hours later it looked like Thanksgiving, with dishes overflowing the sink and nearly every spice and condiment I owned covering the countertops. There was a clear distinction of where he worked when in the kitchen and where I did—the right side was littered with various consistencies of spices and herbs, whereas his side had splashes of watered-down blood and white blobs of fat that had been trimmed from the meat. We cleaned everything up and put everything away, both of us looking a little beat from slaving in the kitchen.
“You said you have a brother. Do you have any board games here?”
“What does one thing have to do with the other?” I asked, curious by his line of questioning.
“Typically kids who grow up with siblings have board games. Just something I’ve noticed,” he replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders as he followed me back out to the living room. I assumed he was an only child by the way he spoke. I imagined a cute, little boy with sparkling green eyes and shaggy brown hair playing with his train set alone. Though he looked unaffected by the conversation, there was something sad in his words. Or, it could be that I’d always thought of only children as a bit lonely. Even on bad days with my brother, I was still happy I had a sibling.
“I guess. I think I have some. They’re probably old though, and I don’t know how fun they’ll be with only two people.”
“It’s not like I’m expecting quality entertainment here. I figure it will be nice to have something to entertain us when the power goes out. Unless, you have a better idea of something entertaining to do?”
To be perfectly honest, I’d already started questioning how feasible it was to stay locked up night and day with this man without throwing myself at him, but then he spoke, and his enticing words seemed to lick up my spine with whispers of what I would be missing if I stuck to the rules. The rules I, myself, had set.
He seemed like the fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em type, so maybe our circumstances had no effect on him, but for me, this was something altogether new. I wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed in those types of things. There was no one I could talk to about this, and I couldn’t quite Google, “What to do when stuck with a one-night stand?” As much as I would have liked nothing more than to use him to my heart’s content, I knew everything had consequences, and the one time I’d been burned was enough to last a lifetime.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I said
when I concluded that it would be best to stick to the rules.
I took time showing him around the house as I made my way to the spare bedroom I used as an office. Walking over to the curtains, I pulled them shut before turning to the adjacent closet. The room was pretty scarce aside from my desk, chair, and lamp. The lack of furnishings allowed me to use the space for my morning yoga, which I could have gone for right about then. I needed to find my Zen.
I turned back to see Joel looking around the room, sizing up the empty space.
“How long have you lived here?”
“A little over six months,” I responded while trying to wiggle the games from underneath some bags. The bags shifted as if they wanted to come down, too, but I was being lazy and continued pulling the games while trying to shuffle the bags back toward the wall.
“Eeep,” I squealed as I ducked down in avoidance of the bag that teetered on the ledge. After a second without the bag hitting the top of my head, I risked looking up. Joel had pushed the bags up and pulled the remaining games out before taking a step back. Removing the other game from my hands, he folded his arms around the varied boxes and stepped aside, waiting for me to lead the way.
Before we left the room, he said, “We should probably get any flashlights, candles, matches, and batteries you have around the house. It’s easier to find those things while the lights are still on.”
***
The power didn’t go out that night, which was how we found ourselves relaxing on the couch watching a Blu-ray of my favorite assassin movie. It was one that was popular when it came out, so when I suggested the movie, I was sure he’d already seen it, but if he had, he never let on.
Before the movie began, I retired to the bedroom to change into a decent set of pajamas that covered every bit of skin that he could find tempting. The only flesh that showed were my feet and anything from my collarbone up. Joel apparently slept in less clothing, so when I returned to the living room, he was stripped down to his briefs and my brother’s Ramones shirt.