Surrender (3 page)

“Oh, you have to go so soon?” she asked him as she slid out, stood up and he stood up too, towering over her small frame. He smiled down at her.

“I am late for class,” he looked back at me. “But it was a pleasure to meet you, Fay…it was very... enlightening.”

Gemma sighed as he turned back to her. “And you too, of course, but I have to go.”

“Okay, bye!” she yelled out as he headed out of the café and took a moment to glance back at me. He walked by the long glass window that ran the length of the front of the building. Gemma sat down and tapped my foot under the table with hers, then she smiled at me. It was the same damn smile she always shot at me when we were still in high school. It was kind of strange seeing her this giddy.

“Oh my God, wow, just wow. Where the hell has he been hiding?”

I looked out the window and saw him running across the street, towards the library. His hair blowing around from the wind.

“I don’t know,” I muttered as thoughts of writing more in my book started to tug at me.

She turned in the booth and saw him as he climbed the long white stairs. She turned back to me with ‘that’ grin on her face.

“You like him.” She said as she took a drink and kept her eyes locked onto mine.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, he is cute, but you know what? This is our last year and I need to pass everything, no joke.”

“Well, then you won’t mind if I do something about that then?” she pointed behind her and I hesitated, so her expression changed.

I shook my head. “I…no, it’s fine. Do what you do, Gemma.”

“No, you have that
look
on your face.”

I laughed and took another drink.

“What
look
?”

She leaned forward and stared me down. “That ‘
it’s mine’
look, Fay.”

I grinned, I could not help it. Writing that sex scene had made me so weird today, so unlike myself. “I do not.”

She tapped my hand. “Listen, just do it, ask him out!” she said as her voice carried and a couple of people closest to us stared at me.

“I don’t ask guys out,” I said very quietly.

She leaned back and shook her head.

“You really have to get over this romance thing.”

I thought about my book and grinned. “Trust me, I am trying really, really hard.”

Chapter Three

Seeing Red

I sat at my laptop and grinned, covering my face after I read through the sex scene again. Gemma had gone out with some guy she ran into after we left the café earlier and, in true
her
fashion, it was love at first site, or at least love for one night. Don’t get me wrong, she is not a whore, but sex for her was simply that, sex, and I really tried my best to understand it. In fact, I was trying my best to weave her simplistic view of it into this book. I leaned up and placed my fingers to the keys and started to write again, ready to dive back into this story with no inhibition, no fear and completely pushing myself out of my comfort zone. That is what fiction is for, right? So I started to write and continued right where I had left off in the train car….

***

I woke up in the train car and it was daylight. I could tell, as the sun lit the car up in a much different way than the lights from the night before had. I then remembered everything…the card, the roof, the train and…oh my God. The man. The man who set me on fire, every part of me. The desire I had felt for him was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Even now, just the thought of him had my pussy humming
.

I laughed as I typed the word pussy into my laptop. Gemma would die if she read this…just die. I cleared my throat and continued on. I need to do this, I mean, even I am curious as to what the hell is going to happen. I straightened my shoulders and continued typing, curious to see where this was heading.

I looked around the train car and didn’t see him. He had left me here just as he had met me, nameless and completely confused. I had wanted to place myself in a compromising position by answering the bizarre ad online, but I had no idea as to how bizarre it would actually be. Of course, I knew that the sex would be incredible and heart stopping, or I had hoped it would be. I reached up and touched my lip, my breath warm on my skin as I thought about him, the way he had touched me, the way his mouth pressed against my own, as if he would never be able to get enough of me. That alone made me wet as I tried to push him to the back of my mind. I could not be this way. I did not have any intention of
feeling
, getting attached…wanting more of the same. I needed to break my own chains, and to think of him this way was like placing the shackles back on as tightly as I could. I could not, and would not, do that.

“Unbelievable,” I said as I stood up and saw that I was dressed once again. How he had pulled that off was almost as much of a mystery as the whole damn night had been. I walked to the door of the train car and slid it open, it was heavy and it took all of my strength to open it. I covered my eyes, streaked with runny mascara as the sun lit me up like a firework. I heard voices before I felt a hand to my shoulder and then I saw all of them as my eyes adjusted enough for me to be able to fully focus again. Police were everywhere and here I was, in a vinyl outfit, hair a fucking mess, fishnet torn and make-up insanely smeared on my face like a prostitute after a night of blowing whoever would have me.

A man jumped up into the car and stared at me. I had to back away from him and almost stumbled. “Oh my God, are you okay, Miss?” His arm went around my shoulder and he looked me over. I nodded as he walked me back to the opening, another hand extended up towards me and I was helped down the steps. I was walked towards a police car and caught my reflection in the window. The extent of my shocking appearance became perfectly clear. I looked as if I had been abducted. My wrists were bruised, my fish net torn, I had bite marks to my shoulder. I looked horrible, but strangely enough, never as sexy in my whole life.

***

I sat in a lightly decorated office, blanket wrapped around my shoulders and sipping some bitter coffee that the female officer had given to me. I looked up at the Academy of Law certificate that hung in a dusty glass frame. Then, I saw picture after of picture of people I did not know, groups of men and women, some shaking hands, some not, and then my eyes settled on the one of a man with the mayor of New York City. I was interrupted as the same man in the picture entered the small room and sat down at his desk. He shuffled a few papers in front of him and then looked up at me. His face was softer than I expected it to be, he was obviously in charge of this precinct, but he looked like someone anyone could confide in, if that makes any sense. A gentle soul, so to speak, I guess. He was also quite attractive, funny I even noticed, but I did. He cleared his throat and then leaned back, maybe he felt that leaning forward would make me uncomfortable. I focused in on a small scar above his left eye and he quickly placed a finger to it, rubbing it, more from habit than anything else. He did not look like someone who would be insecure about anything. I uncrossed my legs as he watched them and I crossed them the opposite way. I blew on my coffee and steam rolled up from the cheap Styrofoam cup. It was hot as hell and helping me wake up. I so needed it after the night I had just experienced.

“We have officers on duty for rape and assault.” He said to me as I stopped drinking my coffee and lowered it to my lap.

My expression remained calm. “I don’t need to talk to anyone about that sort of thing.”

His eyes looked me over as he spoke to me again, his voice was low and soothing, it may have been on purpose, but it was comforting, just the same.

“It is okay, I promise you that they are the best this city has to offer.”

“No, I mean, thank you, and I am sure that they are, but I was not raped, assaulted, or abducted.”

He leaned up and his fingers interlocked on the desk in front of him. He shook his head. “Shock is a natural state to be in after something like this occurs.”

I interrupted him. “I was not raped, I promise you, I wasn’t.”

His hands rose up a couple of inches off of his desktop. “Okay, well if not assaulted in that train car, then what exactly were you doing there?”

I sat back and played with the cup of coffee in my hands. I looked down at it, catching my own reflection. I looked back up at him.

“I did have sex, but it was consensual.”

“Okay, with who?” he asked me and I grinned, I could not help it.

“A guy, just a guy I met last night.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you know what happened there last night?”

“Well.” I grinned. “I mean he lifted me up and I grabbed onto these straps from the ceiling.”

He laughed and held his hand up. “No, not the sex, I mean the car being hit by the train.”

“The what
?”
I lied, but I really had no choice. I mean, if I said that I was in the car and then pulled out, where would I be? In jail, probably…an accessory to murder.

“There was a car on the tracks and the train hit it. There was a man inside, and he is dead.”

My mind flashed to the driver falling over and the blood on my hand. I looked down and saw a bit of it under one of my nails and curled my fist closed to conceal it. “That is terrible.”

“Well, I am assuming that if you were in the train car then you must have seen or heard something.”

I shook my head ‘no’. “No, I didn’t. I am so sorry, but I didn’t even know, I was kind of busy.” I blew on my coffee and remained calm.

“I had half the force there last night, you had to hear them outside of the car.”

“I did, I heard the sirens and I heard voices, I even saw lights coming through the cracks of the car, but I never opened the door to see what it was all about.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were not curious?”

I leaned back and straightened my shoulders. “I was fucking someone.”

He cleared his throat and leaned back. He tapped a pencil on his desk and eyed it and then he looked at me. His eyes were a deep green, like a field in summertime. It matched him, his skin was pale and his hair a light brown, almost auburn. He was probably Irish, but I am only guessing, of course. I love to guess about people just by paying attention to the way they look, how they act…all of it. It’s part of what I do, as in, my profession.

His facial expression changed and he became a bit mischievous, “Must have been really good.”

I looked at him as he switched moods on me.

I smiled. He continued, not waiting for me to confirm or deny it.

“Well, what about the man you were with. Did he look outside or see anything?”

“No, he was busy eating me out.”

He adjusted on his chair, as my words disturbed him, but in a good way.

“Tell me, are you, by any chance…” he waved a hand. “I mean, for hire?” he asked me and I laughed.

“A prostitute? No, I am not.”

“I am sorry I just…well, about your male friend, could you give us an address for him, so we can ask him some questions? You never know, maybe he saw or maybe remembers something that could help us.”

“I don’t know him.” I said as I took a drink and he stood up and walked to his window, he stopped and then turned back to me as he sat on the edge of it.

“I don’t follow you, you said it was someone you knew.”

I looked up at him and my expression remained the same. “I had never met him before last night, I don’t know his name and he does not know mine. We met up, we had sex and I woke up alone. All of the commotion outside only did one thing for me…make me come harder.”

I was half-shocked at my own admission, but I cannot lie and say that it was not liberating. I had fucked a complete stranger, after almost being killed on the train tracks. He had also bitten me, strangely enough, I enjoyed it. It seemed that I was accomplishing exactly what I set out to do…evolve into a new me, a freer me, someone who could let go. I also knew that being honest, I mean, as honest as I could be without implicating myself, would be the best-laid plan here.

“Did you see his face, could you tell a sketch artists what he looked like?”

I laughed and took another sip of my coffee.

“No, he had a mask on, just like I did.”

“You don’t have a mask on now.” He said to me and he was more right than he could ever imagine being. It wasn’t until then that I knew the man I had been with had taken my mask off of me as I slept and that I sat here in front of this detective with no real mask on either. An open book, as open as I could be without implicating myself in a crime. I never felt so free.

I fingered at my cup. “I guess he took it off me when I fell asleep.”

“Mmm, do you think you could be in danger?” he asked me and I smiled at him.

“I doubt it, I really do. Not to be rude, but am I under arrest here?”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “No, you are not.”

“Good.” I said as I stood up and let the blanket fall onto the chair behind me. He looked me over before I turned to him in my fetish gear.

I set my coffee down on his desk. “Okay then.”

He watched me very closely and his tone was even, but not angry, “I won’t say that having a lawyer is a bad thing.”

I turned and smiled at him, “I am a lawyer.”  I walked out of his office, sore, but never feeling as good in my entire life.

“Damn,” he muttered as he watched me walk away and down the hallway, out of his view.

I waved a cab down as I stood there in my fetish get-up. I watched it stop and the driver looked me over. His expression one of satisfaction.

“Well, hello.” he said and I rolled my eyes and got in. I slid over and leaned back on the seat, happy to be heading home, but holding onto the memory of the best night of my life, oddly enough with someone I didn’t even know.

“444 Madison Avenue,” I said as the cabby turned in his seat and smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes. “I am not a fucking hooker.”

“I never said you were,” He said with a thick Indian accent.

I stared at him as he looked me over some more.

“Are you on or what? I can find another cab.”

He turned back to his steering wheel and sighed as he pulled out into traffic, causing some honking and I ignored it. It’s New York City; the noise doesn’t bother me half as much as complete fucking silence does in my empty apartment. I hated it now, but it had not always been empty, in fact, it had been active for a very long time. I had a boyfriend,
had
being the keyword there. He was British, a beautiful man. Brilliant lawyer. I loved him, or as close to love as I have ever been. We spent five years together, so long the inevitable talk had occurred, the one that included a ring, but I had said no, we needed more time and it was that moment I regretted the most. He strayed, found someone new, someone who wanted a future and a family, someone almost the complete opposite of me. I could still remember him leaving and I had said nothing. I did not even fight for him and I swear if I had, he would have stayed, but I let him go, as if he was a burden. Maybe he was, I cannot be certain.

I stood in my entryway and stared out at the open floor plan of my large penthouse apartment. I closed my eyes as the silence of it drove me fucking insane. Griffin always played music, always. Whether it be classical or modern, it was always on and I refused to after he left me. In fact, I never even changed things. Our matching mugs still sat in the cabinet, his magazines still lay on the cocktail table and his favorite liquor was still in the cabinet at the bar we had installed along the far wall. I reached down and took off one heel, then the other and dropped them right where I was. With them on I was six-foot-one, without them I was a mere five-foot-seven. I rubbed my neck and then walked to the bar and fingered at the smooth, black marble, walking around the back of it and grabbing the scotch. I pulled a thick bottom glass and set it down. Three square ice cubes followed and a shot of scotch. I sipped it and then closed my eyes. The warmth of it filled my throat and raced downward until it hit my empty stomach. It growled and I placed my free hand on it and felt the vinyl I was wearing. I turned and stared at myself in the large mirror behind the bar.