Dying For Sex (4 page)

“Don’t you dare cut in, Frank,” the suit
insisted. “You can have the next newbie.”

“But you can’t dance for shit,” Frank
argued.

“Don’t make me hide your oxygen tank.”

“Bully,” Frank said with a laugh.

“What’s your name again?” Mara asked.

“You forgot it already? I’ll try again to
make a first impression. I’m Michael.”

“Michael, you can’t dance for shit.”

She loved fucking with him!

“I’m not dancing. I’m burying my head in
music so I don’t have to hear all that crying. It’s hard for normal
people to imagine how much crying I have heard in my life.”

“I only cry at the movie theatre because I
can’t believe how much they charge for soda and popcorn.”

“Then you’re my kind of girl.”

“I think my mom wants you.”

“She can’t have me. I’m saving myself for
someone special.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Mara said. “Dr.
Blake just told us that I have just a year to live and mom’s having
a hard time of it.”

“We all understand. It can be really
irritating, but we all understand. What I can’t understand is how
you move like that.”

It suddenly occurred to her that he liked to
divert the subject away from death.

“I’ve studied dance and gymnastics since I
was six. I was actually training for the Olympics when I got the
bad news. In fact, that’s how they caught it. At a competition they
found it while looking for those new synthetic drugs that boost
performance. The doctors did surgery and radiated my tummy, but
some of the cancer survived.”

“Then how come you don’t look scared like
everyone else?”

“I’m not afraid of death. It’s dying I don’t
look forward to.” He chuckled and she could tell that he liked her.
“How did you know I was terminal? My mom looks sicker than I
do.”

He stopped doing the robot. “You’re right. I
suck at dancing. Want a beer?”

“You haven’t had a bad idea yet.”

He took her hand and led her to the kitchen.
Several bottles of wine lined the counter and they found a sixpack
of Budweisers in the fridge.

“What’s your poison?”

“I’m not even 21,” she said.

“You wanna wait until you’re 21 before you
drink?” he asked rhetorically, passing her a Bud, since they both
knew she would not live that long.

“I’d do shots if I had someone handsome to do
them with.”

“Well, Frank’s busy, so you’ll just have to
take shots with me.”

His smile melted her. Completely at home, he
knew exactly where the good doctors kept the hard liquor.

“Tequila or whisky.”

“Patron? They got fucking Patron? That’s
bottle’s mine. You can have the damn whisky.”

“A tequila lover. I like it. I was hoping you
were more than just a pretty face.”

Soon they were taking shots and washing them
down with beer in the kitchen.

“The doctors say alcohol may interfere with
my medicine,” she said.

“When you’re in pain, liquor is the oldest
medicine. Besides, the more you drink, the better I look.”

This stud was flirting with her! Despite her
condition. Her circle of friends stopped circling because no one
knew what to say to someone dying.

“Then I better stop drinking or else I may
ravage you,” she shot back, shocked that she flirted right
back.

“Why else would I surrender the Patron?”

He had one of those big easy smiles that
infected her contagiously. She found herself smiling back, unable
to not smile. She finally found someone not afraid of her.

“If I fatten you up, you would make a nice
meal.”

The way he looked at her stunned Mara like a
ray gun. The world somehow shrank around them until they were the
only two people inhabiting it.

“Oh yeah? Bite me,” he joked, holding out his
neck like she was a vampire.

“I don’t bite. But I wouldn’t mind
nibbling.”

She inhaled his easy laugh like anesthesia.
She couldn’t believe she made him laugh. She couldn’t make babies
laugh. There is no better aphrodisiac than someone laughing at your
jokes.

“You can nibble me all the way to
Disneyworld.”

“You’d really take me to the Orlando
parks?”

“As long as you don’t feed me to the crocs at
Gatorland.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on sharing you.”

“Then I am all yours.”

He seemed to mean it, too. Mara felt like she
won the lottery. Those fucking blue eyes could pass for those Star
Trek crystals that power the Enterprise. They shared a special
moment and she didn’t want it to end.

“I love this song!” she said, even though she
never heard it before. “Let’s slow dance.”

“You love Lady In Red?” he asked, surprised,
yet still taking the opportunity to embrace her. “It came out
before you were born.”

“So how did you know it was me instead of my
mom?” she asked to change the subject.

“There’s something in the eyes when you know
you will die soon. Your mother didn’t have it, but you did.”

“You look like you’re at death’s door. How
long you got?”

He nervously laughed it off. “You can’t play
that game with me. I’m not sick. I just don’t eat enough.”

“Still in denial, huh?” she said. “How’d you
get so much money?”

“I inherited some of it. My mother died of
leukemia when I was ten, and my father, more recently, of prostrate
cancer. I’m an only child and my grandparents passed away, too, so
I had no family at my graduation. I spent so much time in hospitals
that I started trading online, tripling what they left me, so now I
say I’m an investor, because you have to say something so people
can categorize you. I got an MBA from Harvard because my father
said it would be a good investment in case everything else turned
to shit. That’s when the housing market collapsed, so I bet big
against subprime mortgage derivative contracts and made so much
that I never needed to work after all. Wall Street offered me huge
wages, but I can make more money on my own. Nobody believes me when
I say I’ve never worked a day in my life, but it’s true.”

“I bet you have a big house.”

“Too big,” he said. “My father bought it for
my mother, so it’s my way of keeping them in my life. If it weren’t
for the housekeeper and the nurse, I’d go crazy all alone
there.”

“You need some company. Someone fun,” she
proposed.

“And sexy. Death can monopolize your mind, so
it’s important to do things that make you forget you’re dying. Some
people call it sex, drugs, and rock’n’role, but I call it therapy.
All life involves suffering, and everyone needs to make it worth
the price they pay. But those who know they won’t get a chance to
live a full life need to compensate even more. If the doctors gave
you twelve months, then you may only have good health for six. My
advice is to make the most of it. Starting today.”

“I guess that explains why you move so fast.
You don’t like wasting even a moment, do you?”

“If you’re gonna die young, then you may as
well live fast. If a penny saved is a penny earned, then a moment
wasted is a moment lost forever. Enjoy yourself now so that you
have something pleasant to remember when you’re bedridden.”

She liked him holding her. She felt safe with
him. “I’m buying whatever you’re selling, mister. What should I do
first?”

“Kiss the first guy you see!”

Mara laughed. “You’re not shy. If you want
it, come get it.”

His smile barely fit on his face. He
stretched it out to squeeze all the juice out of their first kiss.
She watched him slowly move closer, his lips so damn close, as he
gazed into her eyes.

This stud is going to kiss me, she kept
repeating to herself.

Their embrace changed subtly, although their
feet still moved to the music. He pulled her in tighter, his hands
now roaming her body. Mara could feel the coals thrown in her
furnace. She suddenly felt hot in her light jacket.

She felt him kiss her forehead, then move
down her face to her cheek. By the time he reached her mouth, she
leaped into him, unable to wait a second longer. She attacked his
face like an alien on Sigourney Weaver, desperate to get her tongue
down his throat. Honestly, she had never reacted this way to a man
before. She never knew such horniness. They didn’t stop kissing so
much as break off to suck down oxygen.

“Wow,” he said. “I’ve heard of Five Minute
Kisses, but I’ve never had one before.”

“I haven’t kissed a guy since prom,” she
confessed.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Coach said I would never make the Olympics
if I got involved with anyone. I competed so much that mom home
schooled me through most of high school. To stop getting hit on, I
never wore makeup and dressed in loose clothes.”

“Did that work?” he asked with a smile.

“No!” She laughed at herself, more
comfortable with him than her mother. “So I pretended to be a
bitch.”

“Pretended?” he asked in mock shock.

She gave in. “Okay, okay. I was a bitch. But
only because I had to devote myself 100% to training and
competitions. What little time I had left I spent on studying.
Then, no sooner do I earn my diploma than I learn I’m dying.”

“I bet you stopped being a bitch when you
learned an incurable disease was cutting your life short.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How did you
know?”

“I told you. I’ve got experience and stuff.
Those who were bitches discover their humanity. It’s the nice ones
who make hell for their loved ones. It all depends on attitude. How
you react to your diagnosis determines your level of
bitterness.”

“I’m pretty bitter.”

He disagreed. “You should be, but you’re not.
I’ve seen bitterness. Anyone here can tell you stories that will
shock your shorts off. You’re just relatively bitter compared to
before, but you’re not bitter compared to some people I’ve known.
My mom turned psycho when she became ill, but my father took it
stoically. You know the very last thing he did in life?”

“What?”

“He died well. He quoted some French dude
named Montaigne that it takes greater moral fortitude to die well
than to live well. He made peace with himself. With his last words,
he told me how much he loved me.”

“Wow. So that’s why you’re not an
asshole.”

“My mother’s ugly death cleansed me of
asshole-ness. Now I live every day as if it was my last. Speaking
of which, have you made a bucket list?

“A fuck-it list? Oh, I’ve got lots of
those.”

“No. A list of things you want to do before
you kick the bucket. You never saw that movie?” Something changed
in her eyes. “You do have a list!” Her eyes gave her away again.
“You have it with you, don’t you?”

“Noooooooo!”

But, of course, she did. Mike’s hands had
already moved to her nice little booty and there he felt paper in
her back pocket. And a great ass. His fingers lingered there,
exploring, grabbing, caressing. The vixen stood on her tip toes
just so he could get his fingers farther down her crack.

God it felt so good!

With a flourish he took her the paper and
unfolded it with one hand, while locking her in his embrace with
the other.

“Let’s see. #1: lose my virginity. Are you
kidding me? How can someone so hot still be a virgin?” he
demanded.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Everyone thinks you’re hot. Frank thought
you were hot, and he can barely see. The horny bugger. How can you
look in the mirror and not see how totally hot you are?”

“Dude, you have no idea how self-critical I
am. I wouldn’t have won so many competitions if I didn’t constantly
search out my flaws.”

“Then you need someone to point out the good
stuff. Like those eyes. Damn, they’re like those lasers that
teenagers use to blind pilots when they take off. And that mouth!
It’s like halibut that melts on my tongue. And don’t get me started
on that booty.”

“I’m too skinny and I have no breasts,” she
complained.

“I don’t believe you. Show me.”

She cocked her head trying to see if he was
serious. Apparently he was. He guided her to a walk-in storage
room.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,”
she challenged him, hoping he wasn’t bluffing. Apparently not, as
he quickly stripped.

“I was wrong,” she said. “It’s you who is too
skinny and doesn’t have breasts. But at least you can get it
up.”

“Touch it.”

Mara looked like she was about to jump up and
down at the prospect of grabbing his throbbing boner. This was all
too much, too fast, and she fucking loved it. He made her feel like
a new person. For the first time in months, death seemed so far
away.

“I felt it while we danced.”

“You’ll feel it some more if you play your
cards right.”

She grabbed it like a baseball bat as he
moved in to kiss her passionately. A wave of emotions overwhelmed
her. Her skin felt too tight, too tingly. A fire burned inside her
and the smoke clouded her thinking.

“Can I kiss it?” she asked. “Sucking a
stranger off is high on my list.”

“I think the real question is, can you
swallow it?”

“Oh, I’ve never done that before! Please
teach me.”

“I’ll be your new coach. Your new life
coach.”

That delighted her. “Okay. You know so much,
so you tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it.”

Which delighted him. “Anything?”

“Everything!”

“Then take off your clothes, get on your
knees, and suck my fucking cock.”

“Okay!”

She actually giggled under the single light
bulb as she tried to strip as sexy as possible. She loved how his
eyes got bigger as she took off her bra. Someone without feet
shouldn’t wear shoes, but for some reason she wore a bra.

“You’re fucking tone!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m in great shape, although I can’t
exercise all day like I used to.”