Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  “What do you do for fun?”

  She smiled shyly. “I paint.”

  “No video games? Do you dance? Cook?”

  “I like to play Scrabble, but...” She shrugged, caught herself looking at the table, and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Probably not what you mean by video games. I only dance when I’m too drunk to realize I have no business dancing, and my housemates would prefer I stay out of the kitchen.”

  He raised his eyebrows in question, “And why is that?”

  She smiled and looked down, realized she was being bashful, and pushed herself to answer. After working so hard to get beyond her shyness, Travis brought it all back. “I’m kind of a scatterbrain, which doesn’t work with cooking. I put things in the oven and forget them. I miss key ingredients.”

  She shook her head and shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t have the attention span for it. I’m good with quick things, like making scrambled eggs, but my housemates are usually close to make sure I remember to turn off the stove. If they need a fruit platter arranged, I’m the girl for the job, but they don’t exactly let me go into the kitchen alone anymore.”

  “Housemates?”

  She explained her living arrangements and then there was silence. She could tell he was trying to think of something else to say and was coming up blank. She searched her own brain and finally said, “You’re not the only one doing the slightly stalkerish stuff. I looked you up.”

  He appeared both relieved she’d thought of something to talk about, and anxious it’d be about him.

  A waiter settled a beautiful saucepan onto the cooktop between them and added the various herbs to the liquid inside. A waitress brought their food as he was finishing his spiel, gave instructions for how long the meat should cook, and they were left alone.

  Discussion was easier for a few minutes as they chatted about the food presentation and settled several items into the pot.

  When conversation lulled again, Travis said, “Okay, so you looked me up. What’d you learn?”

  “Surely you’ve googled yourself and know what’s out there. I expected you to show up in a Ferrari trying to impress me but I have no idea what you drove.”

  He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “I like you and was kind of hoping you’d like me for me, and not the public face of Travis Winslow, so I drove the most normal car I own. It’s a Lexus and I mainly chose it because the dealer offered to install a wireless router, so I can get wi-fi on any of my gadgets with one cellular modem. I’ve had them installed on most of my cars now, but it was the first.”

  “According to the web, you’ve never been known to have a girlfriend. Is that true, or just what you want everyone to think?

  He raised his shoulders and let them fall. His demeanor was both uncomfortable and self-confident, and she wondered at the dichotomy. He held eye contact, as if wanting to see her reaction to his answer. “They don’t get everything right, but that one’s true.”

  This was the part she didn’t get — if he’d never had a girlfriend, why not? And why had he asked her out if he wasn’t interested in dating? She wrinkled her brow, not sure how to ask, or even if she should, but cognizant she needed to say something before the silence engulfed them. Speaking quickly, she only managed, “Why me?”

  He didn’t respond, and she clarified. “Why’d you ask me out?”

  He looked at the table a moment before lifting his gaze to hers. “I don’t know. You caught my eye and I wanted to get to know you.”

  The conversation stalled again and Cara speared a potato and settled it into the broth to cook, a little irritated. He had to know she’d asked more than he’d answered. Glancing up, she saw he was busy with his food, so she forked a piece of steak and a carrot and set them in the pot, too. She refused to start the dialogue back this time — he’d have to do it. She checked the onion and steak she’d put in earlier, decided they were done, and drew them out to put on her plate.

  He pulled a phone from his shirt pocket and looked at it briefly, slid it back, and plucked a forked mushroom from the broth.

  “Did you grow up around here?” he asked, his voice sounding rote.

  “Oh, my goodness! You have a talking points list on your phone for conversation!” She hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but still. Really? Notes for small talk? She was right though, even the restaurant’s dim lighting couldn’t hide his red face.

  His tone was defensive, but persuasive rather than angry. “I can comfortably speak at conferences in front of thousands of people, and hardened attorneys and mediators three times my age say they’re impressed by my handling of negotiations.” He sat back, rolling his eyes and giving a self-deprecating smile. “For business stuff, I don’t have a problem with words, but I have very little experience one-on-one, with a girl.” He realized what he’d said and corrected himself quickly. “Woman — one-on-one, dinner with a woman.”

  He paused, obviously frustrated. “Look, you already know I haven’t dated much. You seem shy, too. Has our conversation been so bad?”

  She shook her head and answered his question, telling him she’d lived here all her life, asking him the same in return, and knowing in her heart she’d never go out with him again.

  She learned the hard way it was futile to start a relationship with someone who wouldn’t be able to stimulate her sexually — no guy’s ego could handle a woman who didn’t get turned on in bed even a little. Unfortunately, the type of men capable of bringing her to orgasm were nothing like Travis Winslow.

  The rest of their meal was awkward and stilted and she just wanted it to end. Unfortunately, cooking each bite before you could eat it meant dinner lasted forever. She loved the food and atmosphere, but made a mental note it was a bad place for a first date.

  When at last it was time to leave she walked to her car with Travis on her heals. He stepped in front of her door so she couldn’t open it, and as she turned to look up at him he bent down to kiss her. She pulled back and he hesitated, but she wasn’t sure if he was giving her a chance to move away, or was nervous about kissing her.

  Cara decided to step to the side to avoid him since her back was to the car; but when she shifted her weight he reached for the nape of her neck and lowered his lips to hers. His hands held her head and his body blocked hers with no hesitation and no doubts, as if her pulling away had compelled him to hold her in place.

  It wasn’t the kiss she expected. He controlled her mouth, her lips, her entire body; and she melted into him as he took over. His lips slid on hers as his tongue invaded without tentatively seeking permission, building a slow arousal until her breath caught and her blood pulsed in her ears.

  When he released her, sliding his lips to her cheek before pulling away, he kept his hand on the back of her head and looked into her eyes. Not saying anything, just looking. She felt as if he were claiming her, and she was ready to let him.

  Wait. What? This was the geek who couldn’t make conversation? She stepped to the side and away from him, prepared to remove his hand from the back of her head if necessary, but he relaxed his hold and let her. Neither spoke, and her mind moved in every direction at once. He’d commanded their kiss in a totally different way than she was used to. Not worse or better, but different.

  She went out with assholes who were only interested in getting into her pants, who did and said whatever it took to get her into bed. Travis wasn’t like that, was he? He was so backwards socially and yet so forward with his kisses.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He didn’t smile, his eyes focused intently on hers. “What don’t you understand?”

  Living with musicians had taught her a little about speaking her mind, so she powered through her shyness to say, “You could barely keep conversation going. How can someone too shy for small talk kiss like that? You’re not supposed to have ever had a girlfriend only...” She stopped, realizing it was bad-mannered to bring it up.

  He looked at the ground as he finished her sentenc
e. “Only whores, right?”

  The air went out of her. How could she be so insensitive? “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize where I was going until it came out. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  He looked around. “Can we discuss this somewhere else?”

  “I don’t know you well enough to get in your car with you. If you’re not too good to sit in a Mazda3 we can get in mine.”

  “I’m not too good to get into any kind of car, Cara. Besides, it’s cute and looks pretty new, so I’m sure it’s dependable and I bet it gets great gas mileage.”

  She unlocked both doors with the button and watched him fold himself in. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she plugged her phone into the sound system and hesitated as she tried to guess what kind of music he’d like. She chose her Bach playlist and he grinned when the notes began but didn’t comment, which was unexpected.

  After a few moments of silence she said, “You had something you wanted to tell me?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but now I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve never told anyone outside of a couple close friends. The gossip sites would pay handsomely for it, and if you don’t trust me enough to get into my car, should I give you information that could be extremely embarrassing, if it got out?”

  “Why would you even think about telling me? You’re right, you don’t know me.” He raised his eyebrows and she said, “I realize I’m not helping my case, but why would you consider telling a stranger super-secret info? Are they right? Are you gay or something? Do I have some weird vibe so I turn you on when no other girl has? So, you like me but aren’t used to talking to women, but still know how to kiss?”

  He grimaced. “Please, stop guessing.” He shook his head and gave her a roguish smile. “I’m not gay, okay? Not that there’d be anything wrong with it if I were, but I’m not. I’m attracted to women.”

  “But you’ve never had a girlfriend. And you just blew me away with a kiss. How is this possible?”

  He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and opened them to say. “Will you go out with me again? I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Cara wanted to know if Travis could do more than kiss, and she wondered what other surprises he might have in store. The more she thought about it, she realized it wasn’t just the kiss but the way he’d taken away her options — holding her where he wanted her, and not merely kissing her but ravishing her mouth.

  She focused on the steering wheel and ran through an inventory in her head; she’d shaved this morning, and her panties were pretty sexy, but she’d worn a functional white bra. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped now. She took a fortifying breath — not sure this was a good idea, but knowing for certain she didn’t want to sit through dinner with him to get another kiss. “I’m not opposed to sex on the first date but I’ve gotten hurt with guys I’ve just met, so if we’re going to, you’ll need to come back to my place.”

  “Hurt? Physically? Were you injured?”

  He sounded genuinely concerned, which threw her off balance, but she merely said, “It’s not important. The point is I’ve learned going to someone’s house when I don’t know them isn’t safe, okay?”

  “You didn’t strike me as...”

  He stopped mid-sentence and it was her turn to finish his thought. “A slut? A whore?” She turned to face him, her eyes blazing in self-defense. “You have no room to throw stones here, Travis.”

  “No, that’s not it.” He shook his head, raising his hands in a show of contrition. “It was just...unexpected. I didn’t call you a slut, okay? You’re so shy; it threw me off guard.” He smiled, hesitant. “Your housemates’ll be okay with you bringing me home?”

  Oh god, what if he wouldn’t leave? Most of the guys she took home were looking for their clothes thirty seconds after they got their rocks off, but she’d judged wrong a few times and had to boot the losers out the door with false threats of Papa Bear having their ass if he caught them there the next morning. She cut her eyes to him. “Just to be clear, it’s not an offer to spend the night. I’m inviting you over for sex.”

  Damn, what the hell was she doing? Her friends had done a full intervention on her years ago when she’d been addicted to one-night stands — needing the adrenaline rush of sex with a stranger the same way drug addicts craved their next fix. She hadn’t stopped until she’d landed in the hospital with two broken ribs, a cracked cheekbone, a tear in her anus, and countless bruises. Everything had healed with no lasting effects but the experience convinced her to make better choices in how and where, although it hadn’t brought a total halt to her adventuring out to find people who’d take care of the itch.

  She’d only brought a dozen or so strangers home in the two years she’d lived in her current house, mainly because she’d accumulated a few fuck buddies she could call on who fucked her like she needed — rough and without care. She was sore for days after a session with Junior — her arms bruised from his hands grabbing and holding her in place, her ass aching since his idea of preparation was a pre-lubed condom. She only needed to find strangers once every couple of months now, to get her fix.

  Customarily, she asked a series of questions to see if the guy was seeing someone, because she never wanted to be the ‘other woman’. Sex with a single guy was fine — no strings, and no one gets hurt. However, the one time she’d discovered someone she’d slept with was in a monogamous relationship it had devastated her...despite the fact she’d asked him beforehand and he’d lied. Promises should be kept, and while she loved having her body used for sex, she never wanted to be used to hurt someone, or break a promise. However, it seemed safe to assume Travis was single.

  The backs of his fingers gently touched the side of her face and she turned her head slightly, regarding him with one eye.

  His tone serious, he said, “I’m going to ask four or maybe five questions, and I need you to answer honestly. If I’m still invited I’ll come with you no matter your responses, but I must know the answers before I can follow you home.”

  “What questions?”

  “How were you hurt? I need details.”

  She looked back at the steering wheel. “Why is it important?”

  “Because I don’t want to do anything close to what he did. Please look at me.”

  She shifted sideways and focused on the dash in front of him. “Unless you’re planning to punch me in the face I don’t think there’s a danger of that happening.”

  His voice remained kind. Soft. “Is that all he did? Monsters who’ll use their fist on a woman don’t usually stop there. Did he rape you?”

  Her head dropped and her gaze fell to the gearshift. She extricated a piece of grit from a seam in the plastic with a fingernail as she said, “I’m not comfortable talking about it. I went home with someone I didn’t know and he hurt me enough to land me in the hospital. We had sex, but it wasn’t rape because I went to his place to fuck. I’m not telling you anything else about it.”

  “No means no with me, even if I’ve already been promised sex. If you said no and he did anyway, it was rape — doesn’t matter if you’d said yes earlier. How long ago was this?”

  She shrugged without looking up. “Not quite three years, maybe two and a half? I don’t know; it’s not recent. I’m not emotionally scarred or anything.” She flicked her hands, brushing it off. “I made a mistake; it won’t happen again.” It wasn’t rape. She couldn’t deal with it if she labeled it that way. She’d said yes earlier, so it’d been her choice.

  “How often do you invite people you just met back to your place?”

  “Not as much as you probably think, and I always insist on protection. I haven’t been tested in about four months, but I was clean and I’ve been safe every time since, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  His fingers touched the bottom of her chin, gently lifting her face until her gaze met the warm and confident eyes of the man who had kissed her, not the one she’d had dinner with. “A final question and then I’ll follow you back
to your place if I’m still invited. Do you know what a safeword is?”

  She shook her head and he nodded without looking pleased or displeased. “Okay then, anything I should know about meeting your housemates?”

  It was another question but she didn’t correct him. “Yeah, be nice to Papa Bear or he’ll boot your ass before you get near my room.”

  He raised an eyebrow but only said, “There’s a drug store across the street. I need to make a quick stop.”

  Normally she’d have said she had condoms, but she wasn’t comfortable sharing that information at the moment so she nodded her assent. He pulled her to him, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and unfolded himself from her car.

  She reached for her phone and switched the music to Bohemian Rhapsody before pulling out of her parking spot and waiting for him to follow.

  Chapter Three

  Cara parked and stepped to the sidewalk to wait for Travis to exit his car. They walked side by side to the porch and as they went through the front door she reached for his hand to lead him through the house, avoiding the den area so she wouldn’t have to make introductions. This felt even more uncomfortable than usual, with him tongue-tied and politely awkward again. She wanted him to have his paws all over her making her wild with desire so she didn’t have time to think about the fact she was about to have sex with someone she didn’t know. This wasn’t working — the kiss had probably been a fluke and this was definitely a mistake.

  Papa Bear was sitting on the steps leading to the bedrooms, as she’d known he would, and he stood as they neared. He was only about three inches taller than Travis but easily had a hundred pounds on him. Travis offered his hand, suddenly socially at ease with no sign of awkwardness. “Hello, I’m Travis.”