How Not To

by Devin Sawyer

  A small croaked moan escapes me and it only eggs Torren on more. It’s about that time that I hear my name... "Ari...you're, uh, needed." I move my head to look around Torren, who’s pinned me against the wall. Thank fuck it’s only Nadia. "John has some final questions, but couldn’t find you."

  I move around Torren and Nadia eyes me with an evil gleam that screams, ‘you sneaky bitch!’

  I find John by the entrance and attempt to pull my drunk ass into something that resembles sloppy professionalism. I review who’s assigned to clean up that evening when the party ends at one. John congratulates me on a successful first night and I’m far too inebriated to still be here.

  “Great work, Ari, or is it Ace? Torren seems to like that one, it’s catchy, ya know? Great in the entertainment business.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” Irritation rolls through me.

  “Well, you’re done here tonight. Feel free to enjoy yourself or head home early. I’ll wrap things up now that I know the rest. We will go over next week’s lineup and should be out by noon for you to enjoy a little bit of your weekend.

  “Oh, thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I’m a bit drunk, okay a lot bit drunk, but I’ve never been let off early before, not once, and I have a suspicion Torren has something to do with it. I caught him and John together a lot in the office, always laughing or telling stories. They have grown close in the last week.

  I could go back and grab Torren, but I won’t. What I let happen is just a result of the building tension and I have no right to lead him on by making him a pawn in my game any further. I find my coat and brave the cold outside. I'm looking for a taxi, and I see one approaching. I am about to hop in the back when the door opens by itself and I see Torren already inside.

  "I'll wait for the next one," I say as soon as my eyes land on him. I know my weaknesses. Whiskey and the only man to break my heart are two of them, and my drunk ass needs to get home and to a bed.

  "Just hop in," Torren demands, sounding irritated with his gravelly voice. "We can split the fare and make it easy." I do as he says because it’s too cold to fight him on it right now.

  The ride to my apartment is silent. I don't want to acknowledge the kiss, or that I enjoyed it. It hits me that this is a dangerous game that I’m not sure I can win. I want Torren to be out of my life as fast as he came into it...again.

  Fifteen minutes later the driver pulls up to my apartment. I dig the cash I need to pay for my half out of my purse and hand it to the driver before sliding out. Seconds later I notice Torren tossing the remainder of the cash in the car and following me.

  "Uh, what are you doing?"

  "Walking you to your door. I live two buildings over."

  "You live at the same apartments as me? I'm fine on my own, I’ll walk myself." I chastise myself for slurring so heavily. "You are forgetting I spent a healthy part of college drinking and taking my own ass home."

  “Have it your way. But yes, I’m staying in one of the rented rooms you guys have. I thought you knew. You do manage a lot of that stuff.”

  “Yeah, well clearly John hasn’t let me in on everything just yet.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I'm glad to hear you were going home alone all those years," Torren murmurs, grinning at me.

  "That’s not exactly what I said," I fire back all huffy and puffy with whiskey anger brewing in me. He continues to follow in silence and I stop fighting him because I feel juvenile. "Alright, I’m here. Thanks, I guess." I want him to leave before I can make another mistake. He leans in close to me next to the door, and I squirm and stumble over my own feet. Internally, I'm blaming Torren for my awkwardness because I spent plenty of nights drinking in college and I was never this clumsy.

  "No…thank you." He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear and his gaze feels intense as if he's attempting to learn me, memorize me. I feel out of place with this affectionate move, even the kiss shared earlier seemed frantic and not over thought, but this...this moment is intimate. "With the exception of watching you dance with the suit, I had fun tonight."

  I had had fun too. I wasn’t sure why it had to be so complicated, but I knew it would only cause issues at the office. Torren and I had too much history to not do damage to one another and that couldn’t be risked on Eventor time.

  I can hear how heavily I’m breathing. I have been trying my damnedest to keep my distance, but I want to relive everything that happened earlier. I want to feel that warmth and excitement swirl around me again. His hand reaches for mine and I feel my metaphorical white flag start waving. And on his contact, my stomach stirs with heat and my brain falters with contemplation.

  "Come in." I attempt to find my voice as it seems to suddenly have gone missing. I can tell he wants to, but it also looks like he’s going to tell me no. I cannot handle it if he turns me down now. He’s been pursuing me, not the other way around.

  “What about the boyfriend?” Really? He’s just bringing this up now?

  “Out of town. We’re on a break.” A smug-ass grin fills his face like he just won the Olympic gold medal in girlfriend stealing.

  If I just had sex with him, this animosity and sexual frustration would all go away. I’d hate myself, but it would all go away. This sexual tension is all fantasy. This bizarre idea that we would have unworldly sex that could never be lived up to by anyone else. The reality of it all is pretty basic. Animalistic. We never did have sex, so my brain is manipulating my emotions until it knows what’s been missing. A few grunts here and there, tossing of clothes, and the deed would be done in around two to eight minutes. I idealized Torren when I was seventeen and I merely need to show my imagination and sexual appetite that any tension still there is lingering from my days in Layton and they will dissipate as soon as we have sex and the encounter can’t live up to my fantasies.

  I turn the knob and rush in. Torren slowly strides in behind me. The second he passes me I close the door and find he is eerily close. He backs me up to the door I just shut as he reaches past me and turns the deadbolt. This is freaking happening. And then when it’s over. Everything will be truly over. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Chapter 21

  Torren

  She's frantic, and nervous, and drunk, and still as fucking sexy and innocent as I remember her. I want to erase every memory of another man she's ever had. Her little comment about not going home alone some nights did not make me fucking happy. It should have been me years ago, I should have made her mine. I should have stolen her perfect virginity because I loved her with a wild and crazy love, even at nineteen. I know it not for sure. I know with every fiber of my being that what we had was love, some small piece of it still simmers below the surface, but fear of each other, hovers over it, both of us not willing to break through and take the chance, to be vulnerable again. I just wanted to remind her that she cared. The Ari in front of me seems to function in a stoic state, just running through life. I miss the desire I used to see in her eyes. When she’s drunk and turned on, like she is now, I can almost see a similarity to the way she saw life back then. Physically her body is totally tuned into mine, but I still want to show her the real me. I want her to trust me. If nothing else, when I leave here in a few weeks, I want her to not be angry at me for what happened years ago, carrying our past around everywhere we go.

  I'm currently blocking her way into the hall that leads to the rest of her apartment. I lift my hand to her chin and pull her face up so she's looking at me. I spent years bargaining with myself, bargaining with God. I could move on if she just forgave me. I could stop living in the past. I recognize the lie even as I think it.

  She practically lunges for my face. I was going to take my time seducing her, letting her ease into it. But Ari is definitely not the same girl I used to know. She’s more forward. More experienced. Damn it if that doesn’t piss me off.

  I pull back, not wanting to rush this, and also knowing I still can’t give Ari what she needs, an explanation.
My relationship with her was the most stable thing I’d ever had and even it was a fucking catastrophe. I look into her hazy drunken eyes.

  I pick her up, pulling a light squeal from her as I fumble down the hall looking for a living room, bedroom, hell, even a table to lay her on. I find the edge of the couch with my knees and I drop her onto it. Her dress has ridden up some and I’m aching to see her pale skin and see if it’s the same as I remember it in a small green bikini. I take in her smell, more intimately than I’ve been able to do at the office, and I commit it to memory. Her long blonde hair lays scattered across my face. I get down on my knees in front of the couch and lean into Ari.

  “I’m not fucking you for old time’s sake,” she mumbles aggressively, still unsure whether to push me away or let me in. The signals she’s throwing my way are mixed and constant. This battle between want and hate has been prominent since the day I laid eyes on her once again just two weeks ago. I wasn’t planning on having sex with her tonight, but I do want to be with her, touch her, relearn her all over again. “But, you can do other things if you feel so compelled.” She drops her eyes to the hemline of her dress. A smile spreads across my face. I lean in the rest of the way, running my lips along her jawline. I inhale, again. She smells different now, a perfume that is foreign to me and her sweat mixed together, and a touch of the cinnamon whiskey coming from her breath. She didn’t used to drink. I kiss her neck, below her ear, and feel the tiniest goose bumps pressed to my lips as I begin my assault on her body, raising my fingers to the straps of her dress and move to pull them down her arms. She pulls her arms from the straps. I move my mouth lower to her collarbone and muster a small frustrated groan from Ari who is attempting to wriggle closer to me.

  “Patience,” I demand. I run my hands over the soft skin of her shoulders and down her arms until I run into her legs, find the hem of her dress and begin lifting it so that her dress sits around her torso. Her breasts are larger than I recall, and swollen, and I want to run my teeth along them. Nothing about her breasts are too large or overwhelming but they look full and heavy and I pull the cup down and plunge my mouth onto her the second she is freed from the straps.

  She moans a light but long throaty noise that tells me she needs release. I am having an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and I feel nineteen again. I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been for her since she’s had release. Maybe this is routine for her now, maybe she took men home all the time, I’m reminded at this very moment that she’s only on a break from her relationship and my blood boils, my skin grows hot because I don’t want anyone else to have her like this.

  My mind jumps from thought to thought, unable to focus as I explore her body like a teenager would. Heck, she could even touch herself now, the teenage boy inside of me can’t stop thinking about how awesome that would be. Can I watch her? Can I ask her to do it? I’m not sure. I’m trying to keep my shit together and be the calm and collected one here. That thought is enough to make me groan and I take a hand off her thigh and move it to apply some pressure on my own shaft that is violently pressing against my slacks. I move lower on her.

  “Please.” She’s begging now. Man, I love that. “Touch me.”

  I do as she asks and take my middle finger and run it down the center of her light pink underwear that looks like tiny shorts. I notice the darker area that sits right at her core when I rub my finger over it, where she’s already gotten them wet and I earn another light moan from her.

  “Fuck,” I huff out. “I must be fucking dreaming.”

  I rub two fingers against the nub that sits just above the darkened area, unable to hold myself back any longer. I work her into a steady frenzy and she begins to writhe into me, letting me know what she likes. I couldn’t even imagine her like this in my fantasies. I could never get it right, no matter how much I tried. She’s desperate for release. I bring my tongue down lightly to the cleft between her beautiful legs and rest my tongue just over her pink underwear.

  “Ohhhhh.” A moan falls from her mouth effortlessly and I can tell she’s enjoying the sensation. I take it a step farther and hook her underwear with my finger and pull them to the side and begin to use my tongue. Her moans grow closer together. Surely, I’m in heaven if I can watch the euphoria cross this angel’s face. I use one finger and slowly enter her, just barely, while I continue to use my tongue. She thrusts down, trying to get more of me. I tease her entrance for a moment longer and then finally give her what she’s looking for and slide two fingers into her. She is wet and warm and everything nineteen-year-old Torren dreamed of within the dull cinderblock cells of hell.

  “Fuck!” I mutter in desperation. I lick at her everywhere and she reaches down and runs her fingers through my hair, pulling me tightly into her, not letting me leave her dripping core. She is unabashed and crazed with lust and it is so sexy on her. She is no longer shy and unaware of her body. She knows exactly what she wants and how she wants me.

  “Come on, Ari. Break for me.”

  A mumble slurs from her mouth “Don’t tell me what to do...” She sounds like an immature brat, but I let her because she deserves to knock me down a notch for what I’ve put her through. I go back to trying to please her body, and I watch in awe as she gets so wound up that her body coils tightly. Her legs are flexing, her back arching, hands fisting. As much as I want to watch it, I want even more to be the cause of it and I push her farther and farther, reading her little moans as they string themselves closer and closer together until suddenly…silence, and I remember what she was like all those years ago, the way she would go quiet when her orgasm finally wracked her body and stole her energy.

  After a long moment she releases the breath she’s been holding and she melts into the couch, eyes closing, her body becoming liquid. I grin wryly, gratified at the way I can make her feel. Excited by the way our chemistry immediately fills a room.

  “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask.

  She points drunkenly down the hall with her eyes still shut. My dick is still frustratingly hard, wanting its own release, but I ignore it. I walk down to the restroom and take note of Ari’s apartment for the first time. Hers is the mirror image of mine and yet they look like completely different places. The one John had rented for us is bare and neutral. Ari’s space is filled with color, pillows, and photos of her friends, and some of the boyfriend. I decide to face those down for now. I freshen up, washing her off my face and hands, wanting to savor it but also knowing that’s a bit creepy. I head back out with the intent to talk to Ari and make my pitch for why we should spend more time together. I’m not even planning to give her the option to say no. I’ll put the TV on, grab the blanket off the back of the couch and pull her into me while I tell her all the reasons.

  That was the plan. Until I reach the couch and find Ari curled up, breathing rhythmically, the softest snore I’ve ever heard coming from her. I pull the blanket off the couch and cover her. Tomorrow we are definitely going to have this talk, but tonight I’ll let her catch up on some rest. I head back to my apartment alone.

  One spark. That’s all it took to ignite us into a fiery passion all over again, or maybe that’s all it took to light the dynamite.

  Chapter 22

  Ari

  My heart has become nothing but an organ pumping blood to and from my body. It is the most worthless organ I have come to know, always aching or fawning over Torren Holdridge. I don’t know why he has such a hold over me. My brain is worse though because my brain is a big fat fucking liar. It lies and lies to me all day long as if it has no allegiance. I’ve treated you well brain, we had all that time together in college bonding, I never did drugs or put you in a bad position, now let me lead this fucking rodeo, but no, the brain is egotistical. It needs its spotlight and it’s amazing what you can convince yourself of when you drink way too much whiskey and want to bone some dude who was never even your ex but that you swore you would lose your v-card to at seventeen. I did want to have sex with him, at least physicall
y, but was too afraid all the old familiar nausea would come racing to the forefront. This is a disaster. I feel thrust back eight years into a time that was more volatile.

  I have the hangover from hell, and it feels entirely too early. I look over at my alarm to see that it’s nine-fifteen and I have forty-five minutes to shower and get my ass to the office to debrief. I’m tempted to call in, but that would be such an ass move after John gave me part of the night off. I shower, washing off last night’s mistake and throw on a dress that looks professional but feels so comfy it’s like wearing a nightgown. I haul ass into work because I know I’m running late and they will start the meeting without me. When I arrive, everyone is seated at the conference table, but they haven’t started reviewing the list of clients for the week. John is guffawing with Torren like a bunch of old men at a country club while the rest of the team merely gawks at their boy-like ways and text on their phones. When I walk in John looks over and smiles pleasantly, finishing his conversation.

  “Morning, Ace.” This comes from Torren. I shoot him the evilest glare I can muster with this headache.