Beautiful Agony (A Tale Of Savage Love, Part I) (7 page)

True to form, I had on lethal stilettos, red velvet with gold heels.  The only jewelry I was wearing were two thin, large, solid-gold hoops in each ear.  My hair was severely straight, like I wore it at work.  And that excited me somehow, because I knew in my gut that the only reason I was out here, was strictly for
play
.  Mixing the two personas was heady and dizzying, and the three shots of Jack I’d had before walking out the door and hailing a cab, certainly didn’t hurt
any
.

I f
elt at once both self-conscious
and sexy, and because of the way he was watching me, piercing me with those goddamn eyes, I was aware of every
single sensation in my body; each pounding thud of my
pulse, each individ
ual goosebump along my skin, each swish of
my dress against my
silky, smooth thighs.

He
studied
me
intently
,
every single step of the way
,
until
I was there
beside him.  Pushing a
burgundy
barstool out towards me with his foot, he said simply, “Sit.”
 
Abruptly,
I
was no longer watching
as if
from a
cottony distance
.  I
was thrust back into
myself in one
joltingly-vicious stab of
glaring
clarity, and suddenly, I was
me
and he was
him
and we were presently and undeniably there
together.

I
was standing
awkwardly and wordlessly,
like an
aberrant
idiot, and he
finally
said
“
sit
,
”
once again.
  This time, it was something less than polite.

There had been no salutations, no ‘
nice to meetcha
’s
, no
‘
how do you do
’s
.  Just a simple command that
, this time,
I instinctively followed. 
The stool was very tall, and I had to wedge my right heel against the metal railing around the bottom of it in order to thrust myself up high enough to
reach the seat
.  Grabbing onto the slippery, polished bar for leverage, I finally swiveled around and slid my ass all the way back
across
the slick,
red
leat
her surface
.  When I was appropriately settled,
I
found myself simply
faltering
for a moment
,
oddly
unsure of
how to act
now
. 
Sluggishly seizing
o
nto the realization that this was, in part,
supposed to be
a
first date
, I
coyly
crossed my legs;
knowing damn well how that
always drew men’s attention directly
towards my shapely calves
and thighs.  But
not
with this one.  Uh-uh.  N
o dice.

He kept staring into
my eyes, un-bl
inking in his perusal
.  The bartender came over
then
and asked, “What can I get for you, Miss?”

“She’ll have a Jack and Coke,”
Bishop said, without asking me first.

“How do you know what I like?” I asked, a little perturbed, but mostly curious.
  It dawned on me that this
innocuous question
was the very first thing I’d ever said to him
in person
.
  My initial words were supposed to be sexy, unique, original, engaging.

“
Because I can smell it on you,” he replied
bluntly
as the bartender walked away, “just like I can smell
your saffron
shampoo, your almond moisturizer, and your vanilla perfume.
  And your sweet, hot
sex
beneath those black satin panties of yours.”

So
,
he
had
caught a glimpse down
the hem of
my dress as I’d crossed my legs then.  He must have peripheral vision to die for.  Then his words truly hit me and I blushed.  I opened my mouth to say something but I had no idea what.  I bit my bottom lip, tasting the
oily,
expensive, bright red lipstick I’d expertly touched up in the cab less than five minutes ago.

The bartender came ba
ck and set my drink down, nodding
at me while his
eyes lingered on my chest for a few seconds before
turning and
walking
off.  My “date” was apparently running a tab.
 
He r
eached out then and put o
ne hot, heavy palm on my knee.

“What are you doing?” I asked breathily.
 
Ridiculously,
I was still sick
at the thought that he had seen
my poem. 
It should be the
least
of my worries right now.  B
ut even so, my self-conscious nature was tenaciously stubborn.  It wasn’t often that I exposed myself so starkly, and every time my thoughts rested on what I’d done, what he’d read, I felt uneasily nauseous. 
Would he mention it?  Would he say what he
had
thought of it?

“
I’m t
elling
all the
se men who are staring at you,” he said firmly, answering me, “
that tonight you belong to me
.”

My stomach lurched crazily
at that,
and I quickly grabbed my glass and drank half of it down.  If I didn’t keep my buzz going, I’d never get through this in one piece.

“Wha
t sha
ll I call you?” I queried hesitantly, having to raise my voice a little to be heard over the gibbering din around us.

“While I’m inside
you, or otherwise?” he replied deadpan.  Again, my stomach flipped.

Then a sardonic smile broke across
his face, lifting only the right
half
of his mouth.  It was as if the scar had partially severed a nerve
on the left side
.  When he was talking, you didn’t notice it at all, but when his lips curved; it was obvious.  I found it
almost unbear
a
bly
sexy.

The
way he was talking to me, taking control of the situation, comm
anding practically every atom of my being
with just the force of his presence
alone, was intimidating the hell
out of me.  I’d never
met such a
presumptuous
man
. 
Especially when it came to t
he way he was talking about sex
within just a few seconds of having met me. 
Even now, h
e was
looking at me -
not just as if he
wanted
to eat me alive -
but like he was
about
to.

“You may call me Adam,” he said finally.  “And you, should I call you Eve?”

Another hal
f-smile played about his lips, both mysterious and mocking
.

“Ah, actually, my name is
Ruby
Evelyn S
weet, and I go by Ruby,” I stammered out.  Why
was I so
damned
nervous?

“Ruby,” he said softly, and a chill ran down my spine.  “Okay, Ruby,” he continued, “should we go and fuck now, or do you want me to feed you first?”

I could tell by the way he was sayin
g it that the ‘should’ part simply
referred to the order of things.  His intent was not to ask me
if
we could do so
, but
only
to ask me
when
.  I also got the sense that he didn’t
ask
that
very often.

I paused too lo
ng and so he answered for me by calling
the bartender
back
over.  “She’ll have another Jack and Coke, this one a double, and bring us an order of Clams Casino.”  The big, hulking man took off to fill our order, and I wondered at how the people around Adam seemed to be overly-intent on making him happy.  Not just the guy behind the bar, but
me
, too.  For example, I didn’t even
know what in the world
‘Clams Casino’ was.  And I didn’t care.  I also didn’t care that he
had taken
over and made the decision.  It had been the right one.

Seafood was light, and clams were particularly
inoffensive as far as meat in a
shell went.  You had to really be in the mood for oysters, and even
mussels were a little ‘fishy’, so clams sounded perfectly agreeable. 
I certainly needed
something
in my stomach, and soon.  I was already half on my way to piss-damn-drunk, and I hadn’t eaten a thing all day.  By now, I couldn’t tell if it was the booze making me w
oozy, the lack of caloric intake
, or Adam’s heady nearness, but w
ith his order
,
I could eat enough to
fortify my energy
and still not be too full.  A
nd the
second
drink
was anot
her welcome suggestion. 
I needed all the liquid courage I could get, and g
lancing askance
now
,
I
saw my first one on the bar and noted that it was
already drained
fully-dry.  I didn’t even remember finishing it
, much less setting it down
.

“Let’s get the rest of the
shit out of the way,” Adam said
abruptly
, and
I
looked up and met his eyes.  They enveloped me, sucking me in, and I
found myself nodding
d
umbly in response
to his words
.  I was so distracted,
busily
soaking in his long, muscular, lanky body, his black j
eans, black boots, black shirt and
black jacket.  I also liked his black hair and those unbelievable gray eyes.  That hook in his nose suited him.  The more I looked at him, the sexier he got.

“I have no
communicable diseases, past or present.  In fact, I have no health problems whatsoever.  I am, however, sterile.  And I don’t like to fuck with a condom.  If you have anything I should know about before we get down to business, you need to divulge it now.  I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”  His eyes were practically searing into me.  He
obviously
wanted an immediate answer.

“No, ah, no – nothing you need to know.”  He kept staring at me in pointed silence, so I just kept going,
filling in the blanks;
“I’m not on the pill.  I always use condoms.  I just went to the doctor a while back and got a clean bill of health
in every area.  And I’ve ah, remained
shall we say
,
‘dateless’ since then.”

“How many men have you been with
?” he asked
me
coldly
.

“What?” I replied, taken aback.

“How many?”

I was about to tell him
to kiss my ass and storm
off, but h
is fingers tightened on my knee
and he
leaned towards me, just a
bit.  But it was enough.  I smelled him, smelled his spicy, musky scent.  I
saw his heavy pulse thudding steadily and strongly
in
the side of
his neck.  I wanted him, then.  I wanted him bad.

“Seven,” I said without any further hesitation.

“Make that eight,” he said firmly.  “And with me, there will be no condoms.  Not now, not ever.”

“How do you protect yourself then?” I
blurted out
, a little embarrassed by how forward I
was forced to be.
  Then again, he was being much, much more so.

“I don’t fuck whores,” he responded.  And that was the end of that.

The Clams Casino came, and it was delicious.  They were broiled or something, on the half-shell,
seasoned
with ba
con, shallots, peppers, parmesan,
and
a
mixture of other rich spices
.  They were decadent and sensual, just the right texture and taste.  And the double Jack and Coke went along with them just fine.