Live Girls (14 page)

“I mean someplace a little quieter. I'd...” He ignored his apprehension and folded his arms on the table as he leaned toward her.

Anya tilted her head back a bit and cocked a brow, prompting him.

“I'd like to get to know you,” he said.

She smiled with satisfaction.
"Would
you, Davey?"

“Yes."

“Are you sure that would be a good idea?"

“Why wouldn't it?"

She smoked her cigarette and sipped her drink, closing her eyes as the rim of the glass touched her lips.

“Surely you have a wife? A girlfriend?” she asked. “You seem to be a nice, respectable fellow. I would think you'd have
someone."

“You say that as if you aren't nice and respectable."

“Well.” She shrugged. “Some wouldn't think so."

“I'm not some. You seem very nice to me. And I'm ... I'm very attracted to you."

She chuckled behind closed lips, watched him closely, then stood, putting out her cigarette.

“Well?” Davey said. “What about later?"

She lifted her drink as if to sip it, considered it a moment, then placed it back on the table.

“Meet me in the front lobby after my next performance,” she said, her hand resting on the glass. “We'll go to my place."

Davey nodded, vaguely uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze.

“You're not going to finish your drink?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I won't be needing it."

T
HE MOMENT
D
AVEY STEPPED INTO
A
NYA'S DARK, CHILLY
apartment, she embraced him, opened her mouth, then closed it over his, running her tongue across his lips.

Davey stiffened
—
partially because the kiss was such a contrast from the cool behavior she'd exhibited all night and partially because her tongue was so startlingly cool
—
then slowly relaxed and put his arms around her.

Anya pulled her head away.

“You're not getting boyish on me, are you, Davey Owen?” she asked. “It was
your
idea to get together."

“Yeah, I know. I just..."

She laughed. It was filled with genuine pleasure.

“You didn't expect this all at once?"

“Not really,” Davey said. “No."

“But it's what you wanted, isn't it?"

He nodded.

Her eyes examined his face carefully. “You're a very weak person, Davey,” she said quietly.

He flinched. Davey remembered what Casey had told him the day before.

You have no spine.

“Why do you say that?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

She smiled. “Because you're here."

Taking his hand, Anya led him through the living room. The windows were open and white curtains fluttered in the cold wind like ghosts. Down a hall, she took him into a bedroom.

She turned and kissed him again, and slipped a hand between the buttons of his coat.

Davey sucked in a breath at the chill of her palms through his shirt. She drew his tongue deeply into her mouth. When Davey put his hands on her back, he felt bare skin, soft as a baby's and cool from the night air. She lifted one leg and pressed it between his, against the hard lump in his pants. When Davey stepped back to take his coat off, he saw that her dress lay crumpled around her feet. She slipped her shoes off as his coat fell to the floor, then led him by the hand to her bed, pulled the covers back, and began unbuttoning his pants. Davey put his hands on her breasts, and caressed the round undersides with his fingers.

Davey undressed slowly with trembling hands as she kissed his face. He remembered the look in her eyes when he first saw her behind that smeared glass in the booth, that look that promised so much. This is what that promise had been, the fresh, clean smell of her, the way his skin tingled when she touched him. She pulled his undershorts down and kissed his erection, then licked her way back up over his stomach and chest to his throat. He touched her thick black hair and kissed her temples, her eyes.

There was nothing in the darkness but her skin and her smell and her hands, nothing in his life but her breasts and lips, her tongue and her teeth tugging gently at his flesh. He hadn't lost his job, Beth hadn't left him, he didn't live in a huge, dirty city that sat on an island like a dark, hunkering beast waiting to gulp down anything that wandered by. His whole body quivered as he fought the urge to furiously devour her beneath him.

He wanted it to last, to linger, so he forced his movements to come slowly.

“You like this, Davey Owen?” she asked him. He could not see her lips in the darkness but he could feel them moving against his shoulder. “You like all this?"

Davey tried to speak, but couldn't.

She rolled over and knelt by him; her hair swung lightly over his face and shoulders.

“You like surrendering yourself like this, don't you, Davey?"

Surrender?
he thought, but the word dissolved in his mind and fluttered away like a breath of vapor on a cold night. He ran his hands down her slender body as she leaned forward and kissed his neck and ears, his throat, his chest.

Davey tried to reciprocate, to kiss her and touch her in return, but his energy seemed to be flowing from his body, leaving him through every spot of flesh touched by her tongue, her lips, her fingers.

Anya wrapped her fingers around his moistening penis and slid her hand up and down slowly.

Davey moaned and lifted his pelvis toward her.

She gently rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock and touched his testicles lightly with her fingertips.

“You want to be in my mouth again, don't you?” she whispered.

He wanted to reply, but his lips would not come together. He nodded, eyes closed, chin jutting, and she put her lips on him, teasing him with her mouth, running the tip of her tongue along the bottom of his shaft, and then, as she had in the booth, she plunged her mouth down on him, all the way to his groin, and began lifting her head up and down, up and down, while Davey's whole body squirmed and shifted over the mattress. He gulped air and moaned, touching her head with his hand; his arm was so weak he couldn't hold it up and it slid heavily back down to the bed.

Anya moved around with her mouth still full of him until her legs straddled Davey's face. The skin of her thighs was like satin against his cheeks and his face was gently smothered in her pubic hair, and in her fleshy lips. He slipped his tongue inside her, wanting to give her pleasure but able to concentrate very little because of the waves of sensation flowing through him.

Anya began sucking vigorously. Davey could hear her gulps and feel her fingers clutch his thighs hard. He felt a sudden draining sensation, a feeling of being emptied, not unlike that of relieving a full bladder but without the feeling of relief. With each of her deep, throaty gulps, a tremor passed through him, and with each tremor came a euphoric weakness. He let his head fall to the pillow, unable to keep his mouth on her. Anya moved herself luxuriously over his face as she sucked him. Davey's body became helplessly limp beneath her. He could not move or participate, only feel.

Only when she finally stopped and lifted her head did it occur to Davey that he had not yet come.

Anya pulled herself away from his face, turned around, and mounted him. There was a controlled frenzy in her movements as she rode him, bending forward until her breasts were swaying just above his face.

Davey wanted to bury himself between them but he couldn't lift his head. His body felt heavy as iron.

Slipping an arm beneath his neck, Anya lifted his head to her breasts. Davey opened his mouth and licked her, inhaled the musky smell of her skin. Perspiration trickled down his sides, over his ribs, but she remained dry and smooth and cool.

Anya leaned back and, with surprising strength, lifted him with her, one hand between his shoulders and the other behind his head. She pressed his face to her neck.

“Bite me,” she hissed, never losing the rhythm of her movements. “Bite me, Davey."

He tried to kiss her, but she wouldn't let him; she kept pushing his head back to her neck.

"Bite
me!"

Bite her? He couldn't ... do ... that...

“I
said bite me
, Davey Owen!"

“I ... I can't..."

She held his head down, pressing his open mouth to her neck just below her ear. She pressed harder and harder; Davey teetered on the edge of orgasm and his body tensed, his eyes clenched, and he closed his mouth over her, vaguely feeling his teeth break through her skin.

She bucked on him, moaning in his ear.

Davey's cry was muffled as he came inside her. His lips were wet with sticky, warm fluid and he ran his tongue over her skin, sucked on it.

“Suck it!” she gasped. “Suck it, Davey, suck it in..."

Davey felt himself slipping away; the darkness around him deepened.

Everything went away....

When Davey awoke
—
he wasn't sure how much later
—
Anya was kneeling between his legs. She was silhouetted in the soft glow from the bathroom as she gently dabbed a warm, wet cloth between his legs.

Davey opened his mouth to speak and his lips peeled apart, sticky and dry. There was a sharp, harsh taste in his mouth. Anya reached up and patted his lips with a corner of the white cloth.

“How long have I slept?” he asked.

“Not long. But it's late.” She got off the bed and walked to the bathroom. “You'll have to go."

Davey sat up and put his legs over the edge of the bed. His limbs were weak and a dull ache throbbed between his legs.

When Anya came from the bathroom, she wore a heavy black robe that reached to the floor.

“You can use the bathroom before you go if you like,” she said.

Davey stood, picked up his scattered clothes, and went into the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water, rinsed his mouth, then stood over the toilet to urinate. Touching his penis made him wince; it was tender and, in one spot, sore.

The cut. It was pink and streaked with red. He carefully rubbed a finger over it and held his hand up. Blood.

He took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and leaned on the edge of the sink. The room seemed to tilt a bit; his head felt light.

After he relieved himself and began to dress, Davey spotted the cloth draped over the edge of the tub. It was stained with deep red.

It's not a cut
, he thought suddenly. He realized he'd known since he'd first discovered it in the rest room at Penn. He looked closely at the two small lacerations; they were puncture wounds.
It's a
bite.

Davey peered through the slightly open door and saw Anya moving about in the dark room. Although he'd rinsed, his mouth still tasted ... metallic. Coppery.

Bite me, Davey...

Suck it ... suck it in...

He hurriedly finished dressing and went into the bedroom. Anya stepped before him and smiled.

“Do you have cab fare?” she asked.

He nodded and said, “I want to know what
—
"

Anya took his hand and his mouth snapped shut as she looked into his eyes. His throat felt tight as she led him through the apartment to the door.

“Good night, Davey Owen,” she said as he stood in the doorway.

He opened his mouth.

What did you do to me?
he wanted to ask.
What's wrong with you?

But those eyes calmed him, reassured him, and made more silent promises.

“Will I ... see you again?” he asked, his voice forced.

She said, “Of course. And soon.” Then, very softly, as she closed the door: “You'll
have
to."

The lock clicked on the other side.