Playing Heart to Get

by Kara Liane

  Her eyes widened and then her pupils dilated as she gasped. Fuck, was that from fear or awareness? She was breathing sensually, and I couldn’t help myself for I was getting hard. Just being around her did that to me. I wanted so badly to tongue her clit and make her forget about all her fears or hang-ups at this moment. Fuck, I wanted to stand her on her head and eat her like an ice cream cone. While I was waiting here in perpetual suspension, I was flexing my fucking hands at my sides.

  I failed to notice she still hadn’t answered because I was caught up with the visual my lust-filled brain was seeing. I couldn’t help my raunchy thoughts. It was like trying to stop lava from flowing—the fucking volcano had to erupt at some point. She seemed like she needed to relax, and I would certainly help her do so. She was an enigma wrapped up in layers of complexity, and taped with a bow that said “do not enter.” I was compelled to peel back the layers of this woman…one at a time.

  I wondered what inner-monologue was going on in that beautiful head of hers because it seemed like the wheels were burning rubber, as if she was arguing with herself to go or not. I couldn’t give her the chance to back out, so I leaned in to her. We were now just inches apart.

  “Please,” is all I said.

  That must of done it because I could see her shoulders relax and her tense expression turned to one of utter acceptance.

  “Yes,” is all my angel spoke.

  I showed the biggest shit-eating grin a guy could don in that moment. Finally she smiled back at me, and it made me think I was winning her over. God, this woman was going to permanently tie me in knots.

  “Right then. I’ll pick you up at seven at your place,” I confirmed.

  Instantly she was shaking her head no, and I wondered once again how I fucked this up.

  She began to stammer out, “Umm…well see the thing is, I actually live with my parents, I’m embarrassed to say. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to pick me up. Can I just meet you there?”

  I realized then that that was the longest I had ever heard her speak. She shouldn’t be embarrassed to live with her parents, so I told her so. Even I am not so much of a snobby bastard to not realize that not everyone could afford to live on their own.

  I also followed it up with, “If you don’t feel comfortable with me picking you up, even though it would be my absolute pleasure to do so, then yes. Please meet me. I’ll make reservations for 8’oclock at a fancy little Italian restaurant called Rositto’s. It’s on Green Avenue in Mt. Airy, near my condo coincidentally.”

  She gifted me with another breathtaking smile and simply replied, “Okay.”

  I gave a brief nod and said, “Until tonight then…,” and held her gaze for few sexually charged moments.

  I also decided to add for good measure, “Can you say your goodbyes for me to your parents and brother? I’m glad I got to meet them.”

  She simply nodded yes. I then turned on my heel and strode down the hall.

  But before I reached the next corridor to enter into the ICU wing I called out, “Oh and by the way Caylan, wear some heels!”

  I didn’t even wait to see her face as I as grinned like a loon to myself, and went through the doors. I imagined she was once again stunned and immobile, and I couldn’t help but feel satisfaction in thinking that I had her tied up just like she had me.

  ***

  I arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. They seated me immediately. They already had my favorite table reserved because I frequented this establishment often enough. The place was decked out in cozy earthy tones and lit just right, allowing the modest ambience to take your brain to that romantic place—or in my case hopefully to the bedroom. I wanted to be early so I could see Caylan arrive. There was a lot to be said for seeing a woman come or go. In my case, I would hope I would never see her go. Wait, what?

  I was still moody since she wouldn’t let me pick her up, but I knew she was doing that for two reasons. For one thing, it was control and probably safety. Two, I imagine she didn’t want me to know where she lived. I wondered if that was also due to safety as well. I didn’t believe it was just because she lived with her parents. So, I made a mental note to get to the bottom of that sooner rather than later.

  But nevertheless, she was going to meet me and that’s all I cared about. Shit! I never even thought about the fact that she might stand me up. Fuck! That would be the proverbial icing on the fucking cake if she decided to bail on me. I’d have the bluest balls known to man from now until the zombie apocalypse. For the record, yes, I believe that zombie shit to be true—that and of course Ancient Aliens.

  Before I ventured to ponder further, I took a sip of my scotch; it was my preferred drink. I knew I could only have one or two drinks with having a minor surgery scheduled early in the morning. But I needed to calm my nerves. Sex and alcohol were the only two things that worked, and I wasn’t sure about the former yet, so the latter would have to suffice. I didn’t have to wait long though for her approach because before I knew it, there she was standing by the Maître D’s stand. Holy Christ! I felt like I had been sucker-punched. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Shit! I’d be picking my tongue up from the table and have to try to stuff it back in my mouth now. I looked her up and down starting with her shoes.

  Daaammnnnn! Why did she have to wear fucking stilettos? Well you stupid shit because you told her to, I yelled at myself.

  Her heels were silver and sexy with a peep toe. She had on a black dress that hit just above the knee. It had a slight flare to it at the bottom, but the top of the dress is what got me. It hugged her hips and tits just perfectly. The sweetheart neckline—side note don’t ask me how I fucking knew about women’s fashion—was the perfect complement to the ensemble. It was a sleeveless little number with thin black straps, that bared her shoulders in the most delicious way. Christ, I sound like a fashion blogger now. Anyway, I didn’t even want to think about what was under that dress—my brain couldn’t handle it. I was praying for lace, but didn’t know if I’d even get the opportunity to find out tonight. If she was going commando, then I’d lose my shit.

  It would be amazing if this was a Basic Instinct-Sharon Stone-kind-of-moments with her crossing and uncrossing her legs at some point. But nah, Caylan seemed too classy and tamed for a move of that sort.

  Fuck, all my years of hanging with wild chicks has clearly fried my brain. Caylan wasn’t like any of them. She didn’t seem like she cared about money, rough sex, status, or any of that shit. So what did she care about?

  Anyway, back to the dress. It was stunning, and her hair was swept up in a classic style with tendrils that framed her face just so. She wore very subtle makeup in the most understated sense to let her true beauty shine through. I could tell she brushed something on her cheeks and lids, and had worn rose-tinted lipstick. The look was elegantly done. She was one of those women that didn’t even need to try, but probably didn’t see her true value or worth. The little bit of color she put on only highlighted her features all the more, and I was mesmerized.

  I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of her body and devour her. If she were close enough to talk to me, I wouldn’t have been able to speak because I was tongue-tied and my brain went bye-bye. It was pathetic that I needed a minute to compose myself so I could actually sound intelligent and somewhat fucking articulate my feelings. I’m a fucking doctor for God’s sake, and yet I probably sound like—and I am acting like—a twelve-year-old pubescent boy.

  I swear every eye in the fucking place was on her at that moment; men and women were equally staring. She was a goddess, and every fucking man in this room knew it. Every woman had to envy her. Lust and greed hung in the air. I was about to break the goddamn table from the way I was gripping it so hard to preserve some semblance of my waning composure. Fucking green-eyed monster of jealousy reared its ugly head, but I couldn’t stop it, as I let out an audible growl. She was mine, and these bastards were going to know it! As if she heard me from across the room, her ey
es moved to my table and she gave me a small, shy smile—which only made me want to cream the front of my pants.

  I let my death grip go and stood up at the table, straightening my suit along the way. I was about to stride over to her when I saw the Maître D make his way over to me, with her dutifully following. I knew my dinner for two was about to turn into dinner for three when my goddamn erection practically broke through my zipper.

  Down boy! I screamed at my dick in my mind. Things were about to get even more interesting.

  Chapter 7: Busted Zipper

  Alexi

  Caylan was now standing in front of me. I finally reigned in my excitement just enough—but still wished I would have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand—just to be safe. I doubt though that my libido would have diminished even in the slightest, because she just drove me that crazy.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on,” I stated in a heated rush.

  Jesus, aren’t I chocolate-covered strawberries and rainbows all the sudden? God, she elicits these feelings and emotions that I don’t even know where the hell they come from!

  My mouth says shit before I even have time to think it through. She blushed and I could imagine she turned pink everywhere. It was a lovely shade, and I thought her folds could be that same delicate pink.

  Goddamnit, I’d have to think of non-sexy things if I wanted my dick to not wear a permanent imprint of the teeth from my zipper. Okay…let’s see…umm. Plates, dogs, dogs running in a field, flowers, petals, the soft petals of Caylan’s pussy. Shit, fuck, piss there I go again!

  She sighed in contentment and said, “Thank you,” in the most luscious voice—whereby pulling me back from my distracting, dirty thoughts.

  I reached for her hand and kissed the top. I could smell the vanilla on her wrist and my mouth watered. She watched each movement as if she was trying to burn it into her mind; believe me, I’m doing the same thing, baby. I hope I am affecting her as much as she is affecting me. I can’t believe I’m going to finally have her to myself and get to know her. I don’t want to just fuck her, I want to learn things about her and delve into the depths of her psyche. I gesture with my arm in a sweeping motion for her to sit down, as the Maître D pushed in her chair. He then handed her a menu. Caylan appeared nervous, and I have that cat-ate-the-canary grin on my face.

  Little does she know that my cool-as-a-cucumber interior is hard to pull off, so I only hope I am succeeding outwardly. I already knew what I wanted to order, so there was no need to look at the menu. It remained closed sitting next to me so I could focus all my attention on her. I hoped she wasn’t one of those chicks that just ordered a fucking salad. God, that was so annoying. I also knew I didn’t need to order food that was deemed a fucking aphrodisiac. Believe me, there was enough pheromones swirling around at our table, and my senses were unbelievably heightened to the nth degree.

  “I am having the duck, what looks yummy to you?” I asked.

  She looked up from her menu. I could see her eyes widen slightly as she picked up on the thick innuendo I was putting into my question. Her lips parted as a small puff of breath came out. She licked her lips, and that stirred something in me fiercely. God, I was so aware of this woman it was maddening.

  She took a deep breath as if to calm herself, and replied in a husky voice, “I should be honest with you. I am so nervous that I don’t think I can even eat at the moment.”

  That made me completely relax for some odd reason. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, but nervousness due to this connection we had was something entirely different than nervousness from apprehension or fear. So I was pretty sure it was because she was skittish about our sexual chemistry. But I couldn’t have her sit there without eating for Christ’s sake! I didn’t want her to be able to leave so soon either. Fuck, I’d take forever eating and drag this out for as long as I had to then.

  “Please do order something. Anything, for that matter. I understand and appreciate your nervousness. I hope I allay your fears or worries by assuring you that I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” I added the last part with a devilish grin.

  Shock and awareness seemed to ripple through her body. She shivered and closed her eyes, as if savoring the moment. I had to be sure which side of the fence she wanted to play kickball on, so I was testing her reactions. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her even for a second, I was so transfixed. My causal flirting I hoped was working, and not having the opposite effect. She once again licked her lips and ignored my continued sexual advances.

  In a meek tone she came back with, “I guess I’ll have whatever you’re having, please.”

  I was still trying to decipher the Da Vinci Code that she was. Unlocking her secrets and desires was going to be my greatest challenge. But I was up for it. She clearly reacted to me in the way I needed her and wanted her to, as far as body language. But she wouldn’t reciprocate in the slightest with flirting verbally. I could tell she was a very reserved, controlled, and intelligent woman. She seemed to think things over and took her time with evaluating the situation. I found myself truly amazed by this attribute.

  What got me the most though, was that I was discovering that she was just so fucking innocent—damn, it was the biggest turn-on. All the women I’ve slept with have been around the block, down the street, and to the next corner. Maybe that’s nothing to be proud of, but those women and I had always gone on a mutual, wild ride. I liked sex and kink, and would never fucking apologize for it. Nor would I make excuses for my sexual proclivities. Maybe the women were just more advanced than she was in the bedroom. Some bullshit nonsense about age had nothing to do with this. I hated to admit it, but twenty-two isn’t even the youngest I’d gone for recently. Rest assured that twenty-one is my absolute minimum age requirement, though.

  Just then our server appeared, and I quickly rattled off my order of duck, new potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a watercress salad.

  I turned to Caylan and asked if she wanted wine and she replied, “Yes. But please choose for me. Anything is fine.”

  Hmm. I would order her something sweet because it reminded me of her, and I imagined it would help her relax a little. Who didn’t need liquid courage?

  The server made note of the wine I had chosen, and promised he’d be back shortly.

  As the waiter walked away she said conspiratorially, “I have to tell you, please don’t let me drink too much because I never consume alcohol. The last time I drank it was for my twenty-first birthday, and that didn’t go over well.”

  She said the last part with a slight smile and mischief dancing in her eyes. Interesting. Maybe there’s hope for this little angel yet. I couldn’t help but smile back and hold her gaze. I had to know more about her.

  “So Caylan, please tell me about yourself,” I asked.

  She bit her lip and looked uneasy. Hmm. Another tactic perhaps.

  “I know you’re twenty-two, have an older brother, two loving parents, a gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes I could get lost in, and the most dangerous curves I’ve ever borne witness to on a woman,” I conveyed. Towards the end of my speech I had rasped out the last bit.

  Then continued with, “But I don’t just want to know more Caylan, I NEED to know more.”

  Shit! Had I gone too far? Had I come on too strong?

  She didn’t say or do anything, she just stared. Almost analyzing me. I guess the tables turned, and I didn’t like it one bit. She started playing with the tan tablecloth and rhythmically stroking it, as if drawing imaginary patterns while she looked down. I could tell she was debating once again. It was driving me out of my fucking mind crazy at how reticent she was. Then her next confession blew me away. I wish I had a seatbelt strapping me into my chair so I didn’t shoot off into the stratosphere.

  Without her even looking up she whispered, “I’m a virgin, Alexi.”

  Mother fucking Christ in heaven, I was bowled over. Stick a fork in me I’m done—busted goddamn zipper it would be.
>
  That was the abso-fucking-lute last thing I ever expected to come out of that delectable mouth of hers. I gripped the table like I had before she arrived, and conjured everything within my being to breathe. I was white-knuckling the table so hard, I’m surprised it didn’t splinter off right then and there. I know she didn’t just let that one slip out considering she thinks—or rather overthinks—everything she says to me. So clearly that was her intention to let me know. I just couldn’t for the life of me fathom why she said it at this exact moment, in this place.

  Then two things hit me at once like a Mack truck driving into a steel plate. Fuck! One, she was in fact an honest to goodness virgin, and her innocence was 100 percent genuine. I also understood her with clarity in that regard as to her behaviors and mannerisms. Two, she had finally said my name. Hearing my name roll off her tongue was the sweetest music to my ears. I think at that moment cherubs flew above my head and a concerto played in the background. It became transparent to me in an instant that everything was going to change.

  Zipper be damned, heart be damned! They both would need some serious stitching to repair now.

  ***

  Caylan

  Yup, I just said that. I just said the “V” word at this very table, at this very place, to this very man, at this very moment.

  Even though I took my time with deciding to say or not to say, since that was in fact the debate, well clearly in the end I decided to go for it. I loved saying his name too. In my mind I had said it too many times to count, but I realized it was the first time I had spoken it aloud and actually to him. It felt so good and right saying his name, as if somehow he belonged to me. I loved his name. It was so fitting. I had only heard the name once before. I remember hearing about the 1996 Summer Olympics growing up. I laughed to myself because I would have been two that year. But anyways, that summer there was an outstanding foreign male gymnast sporting the same first name, just with a different spelling.