by J. C. Allen
Stop. Derek. You just got out of the hospital. Don’t let these thoughts get to you. It’s weird she asked these things, but she’s in an emotional, vulnerable state. Just…
I can’t shake it!
“Did you feel anything for any of those guys?”
Now Eve turned to me with the same reaction that I’d had in my mind, except it was quite obvious she wasn’t as good at hiding her feelings as I was.
“Hell no!” Eve said. “I can’t even remember… well, actually, there was this one…”
Oh fucking hell. My heart began to sink. Why had I ever gone into this conversation? Why had I ever bothered waking up? Was this Eve’s way of saying she was about to decide between me and this John? Should’ve stayed in the coma, should’ve—
“He was a kid—I don’t even think he was… oh god, Derek, he was just a kid!”
Now I was just confused. The lingering sadness in anticipating some terrible news was still there, but it had subsided in favor of uncertainty and, to some extent, pleasant confusion. Pleasant only because I couldn’t say for sure that things were bad, but at least it was something.
But a kid? Did you fuck like a twelve year old or something?
“His dad used me as some sort of… like some rite of passage or a damn birthday present or something.”
What the fuck?
“Except he insisted on watching and telling this poor boy everything he was doing wrong and… and…”
OK. Seriously.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Funny thing was, Derek, that kid—still too young to even buy his own cigarettes—was better than any other John I’d worked on.”
I’m… I have no idea how to react to that.
At least you’re not going to fall in love with some boy who can’t even grow whiskers on his beard? I guess that’s good?
Not really sure why I ever decided to pry into your sex life as a hooker. But then again, how the fuck did I ever wind up in this conversation?
“Sounds like the kid had a real asshole for a dad,” I offered with a sympathetic sigh. “But, Eve…”
“What?” she finally asked, beginning to look nervous. “Was that wrong? Should I not have—”
I had let my mind drift into the doubtful and negative so much that I found myself with a strange feeling I didn’t think I’d have for some time into this relationship.
A fear, whether real or not, of losing her for reasons of her own volition.
I had to remind her what I thought of her.
“You’re amazing,” I told her. “You’re, like, the single greatest person I’ve ever known. Do you know how much shit you’ve gone through? How many nightmares you’ve probably suffered, both real and in the mind, and yet here you are, buoyant, cheerful, and happy as anyone I know? I only hesitate to say this because it sounds presumptive, but when I woke up, I knew you’d be here in no time. And you did not disappoint, Eve. I knew for how special you were, you’d be here. And that’s true no matter what various fucked up things the Black Falcons made you do.”
“Aww, Derek,” she said.
She did exactly what I had hoped for her to do. She came back, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and kissed me. If anything could have said “I’m not going anywhere” louder than her screaming those words at the top of her lungs, what she had just done was that.
“And none of what I did bothers you,” she said, almost in awe. “Not even the little kid.”
And then she got a smirk.
“Not even a twinge of jealous?”
You are on some kind of weird testing game today.
Alright, fine, I’ll humor you.
“Did you fall in love with the kid?” I asked.
“And if I did?”
“Then I’d have to say that you were a pedophile and, as that’s the sort of thing the Saviors work to keep off the streets, I’d have to use my connections to have you arrested.”
“Then I guess it’s in my best interests to not admit to anything so self-incriminating,” she playfully said. “All things considered, I think I’d be happier if I never had to do anything like that ever again.”
“You mean being a prostitute?” I clarified.
Eve nodded, suddenly clinging tighter to my arm as if I was a single life preserver in an endless sea, as if I was the only thing keeping her from having to go back to that life. With no small amount of disgust and a fresh wave of hatred for the dead-but-not-dead-enough Rock, I realized that was likely exactly how she felt.
“I’m sorry for all the weird questions,” she said. “That was probably way more than you ever wanted to know. I just…”
She looked on the verge of saying something else once more, but once again, she just kept her mouth shut, smiled and leaned up to kiss me. In a different state, with slightly less soreness and emotional turbulence, I might have pressed her a little more to know what she had been on the verge of saying.
But today? Nah.
“Then you never will. Not ever again will you roam the street.”
She purred again at that, satisfied by my words, and gave my shoulder another nuzzle. A nice silence fell on us as we sat on a street bench. She pulled her phone out, calling an Uber for the house, and locking the phone when it was confirmed, leaning back into me. That was fine with me—I really needed a nap, most especially after all of the confusing things she’d said, but once I woke up…
“So…” she said, letting out a soft giggle after a lengthy silence. “You really actually said sweet titty-fucking Christ?”
“Oh, God,” I said, rolling my eyes, drawing a much louder laugh from Eve. “Do you want me to come up with worse? Because I can come up with worse!”
Eve just shook her head, grabbed at my shirt, and kissed me.
I passed out on the couch at my home long before any thoughts of sex came to mind. At one point, Eve leaned over to kiss me, saying something about “sleep tight, big boy,” but I could only muster a smile before I drifted off into dreamland.
Unlike in the hospital, when that surreal and freakishly haunting dream of Maggie and Eve had taken up my mind, nothing really came. When I woke up, it felt like I’d just shut down for a few hours and awoken two or three hours later. I looked for Eve and saw no sign of her.
I sure felt much better, though—and decidedly more horny. Sleep had stabilized my emotional well-being, removing the biggest obstacle toward getting laid. Of course, with her gone, that was a different obstacle, but I had the discipline to not boot up some internet porn before she returned.
Part of that, admittedly, was because I saw a note on my desk.
“Gone to frame the photo. Be back in an hour. Let’s go out tonight. Eve <3.”
Let’s go out tonight.
And let’s live it up like it’s the last night of our lives—because without some good luck, it very well could have been!
I whipped out my phone, made a few calls, and had everything set up. I decided not to tell Eve anything until the last possible moment, letting the night play out as I saw fit—granted, it wasn’t like we were going to do a half-dozen things, but it did involve at least one grand gesture and show that I think she would truly enjoy.
Part of that, admittedly, was getting dressed up, something that I hated—the incident with the Falcons’ fundraiser had done me no favors in looking favorably upon such a task—but for Eve, I would’ve worn a clown outfit to my wedding if that’s what she wanted.
When Eve arrived, she had a smirk on her face and an expression in her eyes that showed me she’d been thinking some scandalously naughty thoughts. She wanted to jump me in the living room and fuck me right there.
Just one problem… because of the time of day, close to 6 p.m. now—apparently, “an hour” to Eve went a bit longer than that—and the arrival of my special surprise, Eve would have to wait.
Well, I suppose good things came to those who waited—or good things came in those who waited, in this case!<
br />
“Somebody’s up,” Eve said. She spared no shame in looking down at my groin. “And something else is up too.”
“Oh, you would like that,” I said. “But not yet.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me, as if this were some evil game to prevent her from having sex with me. Briefly, I had the amusingly dark thought that the hooker finally wanted sex and now couldn’t get it, though that vanished relatively quickly. Instead, I just folded my arms and shrugged.
“You said let’s go out to dinner,” I said as if I had no choice. “Sooooo I made dinner plans and plans for after. And we have a ride coming here in about thirty minutes.”
“I only need three to get you off,” Eve said, placing the bag at the apartment hallway entrance and moving toward me.
“Ah, well, see,” I began to stutter. How hilarious was this? I was refusing sex and Eve looked like she was five seconds away from murdering me if I didn’t give it to her—quite the contrast from this morning, when I almost murdered myself to get sex. “It’s a fancy dinner.”
“Thirty seconds,” Eve said.
“Nice try,” I said, even though it was a try my body desperately wanted to reward. “But if we’re going to get naked, we’re not going to rush it.”
“Ugh,” Eve said. “You’d better have the world’s greatest dinner plans.”
Oh, I do. I very much do, Eve Kellerman.
“I might use teeth tonight if not.”
OK, I had better have guessed her right. Goddamn!
She brushed by me, deliberately placing her hand on my groin as she moved by. She looked up to me, blew me a kiss, and moved into the bathroom to get dressed. My dick was about hard enough to bust through my pants—I almost really did think of busting a nut so I wouldn’t be walking with a tent in my nice dress pants all evening.
But… I had just enough strength not to. I hurried in, got dressed, and calmed myself just enough to keep control of myself.
And then Eve showed up, wearing a sexy-as-hell dress that she’d gotten from somewhere I didn’t know—I suspected Roost had hooked her up while I was out—and sauntered over to me.
“You teased me, fine,” she said. “But just so you know, I’m not going to forget this later on. I’m like an elephant. I remember everything.”
“A sexy elephant, damn!”
I wasn’t sure if I’d just given the wittiest compliment or the worst one ever. But Eve laughed, so I knew it wasn’t at least the worst.
I took her hand before she could slap me with it, led her to the elevator, and brought us down to the entrance.
She turned to me and batted an eyelash, as if she had just seen me for the first time in my life.
“If you like me now,” I said confidently—perhaps pushed a bit by the danger from the afternoon. “Then wait till you see what I’ve got for us.”
“What—”
The elevator doors opened. I motioned for her to walk out and into the entrance to the parking lot.
There, a bone-white stretch limo awaited us. A good-looking young man in a spiffy suit stood, waiting, beside an already-open door with a freshly printed sign that beckoned “Eve & Derek.” Eve gasped and broke out into startled giggles, glancing back at me and realizing that I’d set all this up.
“You always exceed expectations,” she said. “Even when mine are out of this world.”
She threw her arms around me and planted a kiss squarely on my lips.
“I love you, Eve.”
“And I love you too, Derek,” she said.
What she didn’t know—and what I wasn’t going to tell her—was how much I loved the limo company for coming through in a pinch on only a couple hours’ notice. It occurred to me that a great deal of effort had been put forth to get one of their nicest cars, driven by one of their nicest drivers, and stocked with a chilled bottle of the nicest champagne they could get on the road and in front of my apartment complex in what was likely record time.
All of that effort on their end, and all I’d done was read off a credit card number and promise an obscene amount of extra money if they could get there that evening.
And here I was getting all the smooches for all of their trouble. I guess I’ll give the guy a nice tip. Think he will deserve it a bit.
“And where are we going on this fine evening, sir?” the driver asked, offering a slight bow and motioning for us to climb aboard the proverbial chariot he had waiting for us.
“Where are we going?” I said, holding Eve out to my side. “How’s ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ sound to start? Then maybe a nice steak dinner?”
Her face was answer enough.
“Looks like we got a winner there, buddy,” I said to the driver, straightening long enough to retrieve a few hefty bills from my wallet and tuck them into his breast pocket. “And thanks again. Eve—sorry, I lied, it’s the show first. Guess this is what I get for making you hurry.”
“Like I care,” she said, kissing me one more time.
I guided her into the limo, gently helping her down. I slid in, put my hand on her, and kissed her once more.
It wasn’t “just married” but it was pretty damn close.
20
Eve
Derek Knight.
What more could I say at this point? I loved this man, and yet for as well as I knew him, for as much as I felt I could peg his behavior, he always, always, always found a way to one-up himself and top what he’d done just moments before. It was nothing short of miraculous to see him operate, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune to have him by my side.
Things had turned around so completely in the past couple of weeks that I had a hard time not believing it was all some vivid dream that would turn my life sour the moment I awoke to realize it was all a lie. It wasn’t hard to envision a world in which I realized I’d just fantasized about this whole experience—that I’d gone insane and was trapped in Rock’s basement, that I wasn’t dead but was kept alive for the purposes of driving me insane. It wasn’t hard to envision Chuck appearing, laughing, torturing me as he sold me back to the Black Falcons.
But… I didn’t wake. Or, rather, I never snapped out of reality into a dark fantasy. This really was my world. I was… I actually was awake.
Things just kept getting better and better. That Derek was awake would have been enough for me, but then he was taking me and we were together.
It was the sort of thing that fairy tales were built on.
Certainly sounds like something the Grimms would have spun, I thought reflectively as the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the scarlet curtain dividing the audience from the actors, began to part and rise. There was applause, and a whimsical, convoluted logic told me it was for us. This, of course, was foolish, but I accepted the praise all the same as I cozied up beside Derek all the same.
Then the famous music played, the Fiddler danced on his Roof, and I felt captivated in a world that was not my own. I don’t think I ever let go of Derek’s hand throughout the entire show, leaning forward in the exciting parts, putting my hand over my face when the Jews were kicked out, and shedding tears at the end. It was the full emotional experience—just as the past few weeks had provided a full emotional experience.
And yet, while the show had ended, Derek and I had no indication we were ending any time soon.
In contrast to what I felt now, it felt like everything before had been some sort of twisted nightmare. It seemed so easy to think of my brother’s sudden appearance and just as rapid disappearance as nothing more than some walking night terror that I’d played out that afternoon. Maybe I was just experiencing some sick twist of PTSD, being alone and having him capture me—I mean, what were the odds that it actually was him? How in the hell would he have found me someplace far, far away from the heart of the city?
Could it have been my imagination?
It was all a dream. All just a very bad dream.
And all of it behind me now.
I really wanted to believe that.
/> And so…
I did.
I knew I could not fool myself entirely. I could lie to myself to some extent, sure. I couldn’t lie fully…
But for one night? As we stood to applaud the actors and actresses on stage? As Derek whisked me back to the limo for a downtown steak dinner, which soon turned out to be a private room in a high-rise place?
Hell yeah, I could pretend none of this ever happened.
And that was especially the case when I heard Derek’s silver tongue whisper smooth, silky words to me as we departed from the private room in something of a haste.
“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you, Eve,” he said, daring to whisper in my ear on an elevator with other people on it. “You think you know. But I know you’ve seen you can’t predict me. And that’s only going to increase when I get you naked in my room.”
It took so much effort not to blush in front of everyone. I was not naive enough to think that his words weren’t heard by anyone else—in fact, judging by the people who turned to give us glances, I think they all heard.
But I also knew the two of us didn’t care, and that was what mattered.
When we got to the limo to take us home, in fact, a new kind of battle began, one I hadn’t experienced since the day at the history museum.
But this wasn’t an erotic war. It was erotic guerrilla warfare.
We spent most of the ride presumably looking out the windows, staring at everything passing us by. But every so often, one of us would touch the other in a sensitive spot—Derek might run his hand over my lower back, reaching to my ass, and I might “accidentally” brush against his groin. It was all done quickly and with plausible deniability—but there was no denying what we were building toward.
When we finally got back to the apartment, we were all but sniping at each other. The attack turned into a barrage, knowing that the culmination of our warfare was soon about to spill out into “the open.” Pushing the elevator button only gave me a chance to reach around and stroke him through his pants, only to pull my hand back quickly when the doors opened. No one walked through, which Derek mumbled “of course,” too.