Insatiable

by J. D. Hawkins

  “I do too,” I reply sincerely, and now Luce can’t hold back the grin she’s been hiding behind that faux-reproachful expression.

  Luce is awesome. She has a way of delivering even the worst news like it’s a punchline, and somehow manages to be on top of everything, while making it look effortless. I can already feel my about-to-punch-a-wall anger becoming a how-bad-is-it acceptance. Still, I manage to grunt a few indignant words. Plus I can’t look like a tool in front of my crew.

  “That was that, this is this. He can’t do that.” I whip out my phone.

  Her scoldy face is back. “He can, and he has. And now you’re not the only one who got screwed.” She smirks. Point, Luce. “I told you never to mix business with pleas-”

  “Don’t say it, Luce. You know how much I-”

  “-hate that phrase. Yes, I know.”

  I breathe, take a look at Luce’s chirpy face, and chuckle.

  “Ok. So tell me you have a solution,” I say.

  She purses her lips, nods nonchalantly, and looks at the girders. “I’ve just arranged for another crane company to supply us, but they’re gonna take a day to arrive. Until then, we do it this way, and minimize the setback-”

  A whole day with this primitive rope method? “But-”

  “And to stop your incessant bitching,” she interrupts, “I will take you to lunch, and hopefully get to the bottom of whatever caused this,” she gestures at my face, “foul mood. Even though I know very well it is most likely a woman.”

  I smile. “Say you’ll marry me, Luce.”

  “Only if you promise to divorce me afterwards and make me a rich woman.”

  Luce takes me to a bistro where we sit on the terrace. She has a knack for finding the best places to eat in the city, and while I usually hate others making decisions for me, I’d trust Luce with pretty much anything. Probably because she’s a badass who’s never once taken shit from me.

  “You know, Luce. One day you’re gonna find a guy, settle down, and I’ll be left to struggle without you.”

  She laughs into her iced tea. “One day you’ll find a girl, and I’ll leave her to struggle with you.”

  I’ve known Luce since college. She hated me at first. She was a take-no-prisoners feminist, and I was – well, pretty much the same as I am now. That of course meant she was the ultimate conquest; the golden, unattainable prize. I chased her for months, but we hooked up once, and then something weird happened. Something I still don’t really understand – we became friends.

  “So who was it last night, Jax?” she says, taking a diet-busting bite out of her slice of pizza. “Blonde, brunette, waitress, Hollywood actress? A green sex alien from the planet Zarg?”

  I swallow my pasta and nod. “A gentleman never kisses and tells, Luce.”

  “Good thing you’re not a gentleman then,” she says, dabbing her lips daintily. “Seriously though, something happened. I can tell. I wish I couldn’t, but Lord help me, I can.”

  I jab another piece of pasta, say with a knowing grin; “it was the same as any other night,” and put the fork in my mouth.

  “No, no. I can see it in those blue eyes of yours. That, and the fact that your hair is a mess.”

  I drop my fork and run a hand through my brown hair. I know Luce’s joking, but I like to indulge her. She laughs, and I pretend to look around as if paranoid – and that’s when I see the girl from the bar. Ms. Amazing. Superwoman. The one so hot it makes you want to look somewhere else, just so you can look back and get blown away all over again. She’s sitting with a guy in a plain suit, his face so bland you could sedate dental patients with it.

  Luce notices and turns to see what I’m looking it.

  “Really, Jax? You’re gonna do this right here, right now? She’s got her boyfriend with her! You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know. I’m well acquainted with your ‘charms’.”

  “You think that’s her boyfriend?” I say, letting my cool drop for a second. Seeing the girl nags me like unfinished business. A challenge.

  Luce screws her face up in confusion, looks again, and says: “Why else would she stick out a lunch with a guy who’s completely focused on his phone. Look at him. There’s only one reason a girl would put up with that.”

  “That,” I say, stabbing my fork towards the couple, “is why I’m not in the best mood today.”

  “Oh?” I hear mirth in Luce’s voice, and damn her for being amused.

  I nod, pulling my eyes away from the woman to look at Luce. “I saw her in a club last night.”

  “I see,” Luce says, a mischievous grin growing on her dimpled cheeks, “and you…”

  “No. I didn’t. She blew me off.” I mumble this last part, but Luce isn’t fooled for a second.

  Luce slams her hand on the table so hard a couple of girls next to us jump around and shoot us quizzical looks. She throws her head back and laughs so hard that if she wasn’t a cute girl, she’d look like a supervillain.

  “So the great Jax got the brush-off?! Ha! He is mortal after all!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say. Luce’s gonna be on this for weeks.

  “The girdle-ripping, panty-collecting Casanova of LA is getting old! Losing his touch. It’s a downward spiral from here, you know, Jax. Soon you’ll be using online dating profiles, going to singles nights, taking friends as plus-ones, and comfort eating in front of bad comedies.”

  I glower. “I shoulda never told you…”

  “Oh but I’m glad you did, Jax! I’m so glad you did!” She cackles like a witch as she waves at the waiter. “Another iced tea please, we’re gonna be here a while trying to fix this.”

  “No need to fix this,” I say, standing up from the table.

  “Hey, where you going? I’m just having a little fun.”

  Time to crush that fun.

  “Window of opportunity,” I say, nodding towards the girl. Luce turns to see her sitting alone now, the guy in the boring suit on his way to the bathroom, still glued to his phone.

  Luce raises an eyebrow, brings the straw to her mouth, and says, “Oh this is gonna be good.”

  I make my way towards the woman’s table and slide easily into the newly-emptied chair. Ms. Beautiful looks up, and her face breaks into an incredulous smile.

  “Are you stalking me?” I say.

  It takes her a moment to get over her surprise. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “It must be fate. You know, you really should listen when the universe is trying to tell you something.”

  She puts a little pout on her lips and her eyes sparkle with mischief.

  “And what is the universe trying to tell me?”

  “That you and I should get together. You know, I’m glad in a way. My mother always told me you can’t find good girls in clubs.”

  “You should have listened to her.”

  “I should have. And now here you are.”

  She bites her lip a little, and the gesture drives me crazy. I’ll remember it – I’m gonna bite that lip myself. She crosses her amazing legs, and leans forward.

  “Do your lines really work on girls?”

  I lean forward on the table myself, putting my hands together, letting her see the muscles in my arms.

  “You wanna know a secret?” I ask, in a whisper.

  “Sure,” she says.

  “It’s not the lines. It’s not the fact that I’m incredibly attractive. It’s not the fact I’m the most well-dressed man in any room I walk into. It’s not my abs. It’s not even the Ferrari, my million-dollar business, or the beautiful homes I own.”

  I speak slowly, rhythmically, enticing her. She rolls her eyes.

  “Really. What is it, then?” she asks.

  She’s leaning away so I beckon her closer to me, drawing her in for the secret. Her cool demeanor is clearly a defense mechanism, and I’m about to shatter it.

  Then a shadow falls over the table. We look up. Great – Mr. Boring is back.

  “Hey,” I say, standin
g up – playtime is over. I offer the guy my hand and he takes it. “Jax. I’m an old friend of…” I look towards her. This is it. She can leave me hanging, or she can give me the final kick in the balls.

  “Lizzie,” she says, breaking into a grin.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Damn. I’m so bad with names.” I squeeze the boyfriend’s hand tighter but he squeezes right back. It’s a regular hand-wrestling contest over here, but we both keep our expressions friendly. Bullshit friendly.

  “Brody,” he says.

  “I’ll try to remember that,” I say, patting him on the back with my free hand.

  He’s still looking daggers at me – I’m not the kind of guy boyfriends want anywhere near their girls. And then his phone rings. Instantly Brody reaches for it. I nod a goodbye to him and then wink at Lizzie, who I can feel watching me as I head back to my own table.

  “Back so soon?” Luce says as I slide into my seat, sipping her third iced tea.

  “Some things are worth taking your time over.”

  “Right,” she says, sarcastically, “and some things have boyfriends and should be left alone entirely.”

  “That guy’s a tool,” I laugh. “And have you ever known me to back down from a challenge, Luce?”

  “No,” she says. “Especially when it’s the smart thing to do.”

  Chapter 3

  Jax

  I spend the next day at the beach surfing with Brando, listening while he catches me up on what happened after he left the club with Sophie, the saucy, curvy girl. As we paddle out, he proceeds to explain everything they did together in graphic detail. Every jiggle of her ass, every hair-pulling, wall-banging, beg-moaning moment.

  When he asks about my night, I completely forget about the tall blonde in the alley; last night was only about one thing for me – Lizzie. She’s still dancing on the edge of my thoughts like the dirtiest kind of tease, and I hate being teased. I’ve spent barely ten minutes talking with her, total, but in my mind I’ve already undressed her, licked every soft curve and kissed every sweet spot a dozen times. I need that girl, and my body ain’t gonna feel settled until I get what I need.

  Jason, an old client, calls me up later and invites me to a party. I’m already picking out my shirt by the time he gets to the details. It’s a Hollywood deal, at a place high up in the hills that I designed myself a few years ago. With his connections, he always has some of the hottest young actresses at his parties. A budding movie starlet is just what I need right now.

  I drive up there with the top down, letting the cool evening air blow my mind clean. I’m always dressed well, but tonight I’m dressed well enough to kill. Custom-tailored suit, a trim cut that shows off all the right muscles, a bit of appropriate, old-school Hollywood glamor. All set off by handmade Italian leather loafers, because I know just how many women judge a man by his shoes.

  I arrive at the house, feeling proud that it looks so strikingly elegant against the rest of the uninspired architecture of the Hollywood Hills, and hand my keys to the valet to park it amongst the other European supercars. When I step inside the house, I can sense the eyes turning towards me. I can sense the dozens of women deciding at first glance that I’m the one they want to fuck tonight.

  “Jax!” Jason screams, pulling out of a crowd of schmoozers to wrap an arm around my neck and usher me into the room. “Long time no see.”

  “Wasn’t I here last month?”

  He grabs a drink from a nearby waiter and puts it in my hand.

  “A month’s a long time in Hollywood, man. And if I remember correctly, you were only here for a full fifteen minutes before you disappeared – about the same time Scarlett did.”

  He gives me a look.

  “Could have been a coincidence.”

  Jason laughs as he guides me through a crowd of hot women making no effort to hide the looks they’re giving me.

  “Could have been…probably wasn’t. Scarlett came by every week after looking for you,” he says. “Poor thing didn’t even know your name, though. Afraid I wasn’t much help there.”

  I nod at a tall brunette I remember from a movie poster.

  “I don’t go in for names that much,” I shrug.

  “You still owe me.”

  Jason laughs again, and leaves me to attend to some other guests. He knows I’m not here for idle chat. I sip what’s left of my drink and look around me. It’s a good scene. A good mix of classically beautiful chicks dressed like they’re stars at the Oscars, and a favorable ratio of women to men.

  There’s no doubt about how most of these girls like it. They wanna be admired. On top, in a mirror. They wanna feel your eyes on their bodies as much as your hands. They wanna hear you describe their beauty back to them.

  I sidle up to a group of three girls sitting on the couch. One of them on the end catches my eye. She’s got short, platinum blonde hair like a pixie, and leather leggings that catch the light, showing off the ball-breakingly gorgeous lines of her legs.

  I tap my drink against hers, and when she looks up at me, I say “Cheers,” and sip my drink.

  “Cheers yourself,” she grins, taking a sip.

  I sit down next to her on the couch, putting my arm on the back of it, behind her head. She shuffles towards me. I give her my full attention.

  “You’re a singer, right?”

  Her mouth opens in shock, and I spend a moment appreciating the curve of her red lips. “How did you guess? Have you been eavesdropping?”

  I laugh. “I didn’t need to. Only two kinds of girls come to Jason’s parties: Wannabe actresses, and singers. And you’re too kinky to be an actress.”

  She giggles, her body leaning towards me. “Kinky? Is that right? What, exactly, is kinky about me?”

  “You like the feel of leather on your skin,” I say, gesturing towards her tight leggings, “and you like to stand out.” I finger the lapel of her red blazer, getting just a little too close to the cleavage peeking out of her black top. “You don’t like to play the typical girl,” I continue, brushing a strand of her short blond hair away from her green eyes, “and you’ve got the kind of face that could convince a man to do anything you wanted him to.”

  She peels her eyes away from me and glances around the room, as if trying to remind herself of where she is, but then her eyes fall back onto mine, and she’s back under my spell.

  I lower my voice, and lean in to her ear, so she can feel my breath on the softness of her neck.

  “I’ll bet guys are always disappointing you in bed.”

  She giggles again, but softly this time, her body shivering a little.

  “Well I wanna show you how good it can really be.”

  She looks up at me, then brings a finger to her lower lip, rubbing it softly.

  “Do you want me to show you?” I ask. But it’s not really a question.

  She doesn’t say anything, just swallows. Then she lowers her eyes and dips her head, just a fraction. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. I take her drink, put it on the table along with my own, then lead her away from the couch, through the crowd of people towards the exit. Her hand finds mine, and I can read the urgency of her arousal in the pressure of her grip.

  I’m nearly at the door when I feel long slender fingers press against my chest, stopping me from moving forward. I follow them along a bare arm to their owner – Lizzie.

  I’ve seen her twice now. And spent days remembering every inch of her incredibly sexy body, but seeing her again, in a red dress that flows around her curves like it desires her as much as I do, still takes my breath away. When I look into those brown eyes of hers, something’s different. It’s still her. Still the woman that makes my mouth water and my blood rush, but this time she’s looking at me without that sass. Third time’s the charm – and I’m not one to contradict the universe.

  “I’m sorry, blondie,” I say to the girl whose hand I’m still holding, “I gotta take a pass. Another time, maybe.”

  I let go, and ignore the p
outy face I’m getting from the singer as I place a hand on Lizzie’s back, ushering her to a quiet corner of Jason’s house – or at least, what passes for a quiet corner. The party’s really going now, the music’s louder, and there’s not much room for private conversation anymore.

  “So you are stalking me,” I say, when we stop and face each other.

  “You know what your problem is?” she says, only half-joking. She’s got a look on her face like she’s on a mission. “You talk too much.”

  And then her lips are on me. Full, red lips the color of wine and twice as intoxicating. She’s got her hands around my face, pressing against my stubble. I put my hands on the small of her back, feeling the magical curve where it turns into that sweet ass.

  She pulls away, breathing deeply, her tits rising and falling against my chest.

  “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  Ah. “I can tell.”

  Her gaze pierces mine, and I realize she’s not drunk. Interesting. “You wanna know why?”

  I shrug. “Not really.”

  I lead her upstairs, to the nearest open door I can find, and after checking that nobody’s looking, I push her inside.

  It’s a guest bedroom, with a low, queen-sized bed in the middle, and bare furnishings around it. When I close the door to the hallway, the room is nearly pitch-black. The only light is coming from outside, where the pool is, filtering through the shutters in thin stripes, highlighting a curve of her neck here, a wave of her hair there.

  “I can’t see you,” she says.

  “So touch me,” I reply, pulling her against me. Putting my lips on hers again. Rolling my hands down the back of her neck. I bite her, just on the lip, where she bit herself the other day. Softly pulling a little, and the short stutter in her breathing tells me she likes it.

  I grab her waist, turn her to the bed, and push her backwards onto it. She squeals out in surprise, before the soft covers break her fall. I take off my jacket and drop it to the floor, then crawl over her, guided by the sound of her gasps. She reaches out a hand, searching for me in the dark, and places it on the back of my head. I kiss her wrist, brushing my lips up her arm, finding her mouth again, and softly sucking her lips – pulling away when she presses back.