Dangerous (21 page)

“Another
trouncing
, you mean. Nah. Actually I’m starved. I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

Over my protests Paul paid for our game, and we walked down the block to a trendy coffee house that sold trendy artisan sandwiches. We sat outside in the warm, still night air, sipping coffee while I ate a cranberry-pesto turkey wrap.

Paul said, “So far I’ve done all the talking. Your turn.”

I demurred, saying I had nothing remotely as interesting as his tale. “I’m boring,” I insisted, but he would have none of it.

“Okay,” I finally relented, “how’s this? My grandmother Akiko survived the bomb that fell on Hiroshima,” I offered, finally.

“Really? Damn.” His expression grew serious.

“She was a little girl then. About six, I think. Her mother was helping her dress for a walk to the park when she saw a bright light shine through the window behind her. She thought the sun had come up again, but it was so bright she had to cover her face. Then the explosion knocked the house down around them and set it on fire.”

“Oh my god.”

“They were trapped in the rubble for two days before someone found them. My grandma had a broken arm. Both of them had bits of glass stuck all over their bodies. Her mother was burned so badly she died a few days later.

“Grandma didn’t remember much about the next few days. She swears a spirit came to her and told her not to worry, that everything would be okay. She said the spirit felt very familiar, like a friend or a relative.”

“What about her father?”

“That’s the weird thing. He died in the war a couple of months earlier. Grandma always said he was the spirit who came to her under the house.”

“Orphaned, huh? Man, that sucks. Where’d she go?”

I explained that she’d been taken in by an aunt in Osaka. At nineteen she moved to Guam, where she eventually got married, bore two children, and lived to the end of her days.

There are some personal stories so heavy all you can do is let them flow past, and mark their passage with a moment of respectful silence. So it was now. Finally, Paul spoke:

“See? You’re not so boring after all,” he said. He leaned forward. “But I want to know more about
you
. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Calling you, out of the blue,” was my evasive answer.

“Nice try. Seriously.”

Oh, I had plenty of material that would have satisfied his question—my weeks with Val made it a certainty. But I didn’t know how to share any of that. Nor could I guess his reaction to such a disclosure. Best to keep my secrets for a while longer, and treat tonight as an entirely different universe.

The moment dragged on.

“I live in Tarzana, five miles west of here,” I said with my best Valeria-smile. “I wouldn’t mind company tonight.”

He hadn’t expected a Queen move so early in the game. Surprise showed in his eyes.

“Koishi,” he said delicately. “Don’t get me wrong—you’re a really desirable woman. And I’m all guy. But I can tell this isn’t a simple case of lust for yours truly, much as I want to believe that. I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now, but I’m not the sort of guy to take advantage of a damsel in distress.”

I had never heard such words from a man before.

“You’re right. It’s complicated. But I like you, and this would be very good for me right now. Last chance, Paul. Going, going—”

“All right,” he said, with a guilty smile.

“By the way, I don’t even know your last name. Mine’s Paz,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Paul Fuchs, at your service.” His last name rhymed with
rebukes
.

I laughed at that. “An auspicious last name.”

“It means ’fox’, not what you’re thinking,” he said automatically, which implied he said it a lot.

As seductions go, it had all the subtlety of a train wreck. I didn’t care.

§

We stepped into my condo and I closed the door, locking it with a double
snick
.

I didn’t bother to turn on the light. I turned and pressed myself against him, kissing hungrily, savoring the shape of his body, so unlike Val’s. He sensed a trap, perhaps, and held back. But his hesitation melted under the rain of my butterfly kisses.

I took off his two shirts and marveled at his tattoos, tracing them with my fingers and lips. In the blue light of the aquarium, the varicolored images were reduced to monochromes on his smooth, tanned skin. After studying those tattoos, I removed his pants and boxers in search of more, but in vain; the lower half of him was unmarked. He stood still during these investigations. I liked his body and was glad to find his pubic hair neatly trimmed. I wanted to take him in my hand then, but didn’t.

By then he’d regained some of his initiative. He took my hand and pulled me up to stand beside him. Then he undressed me in turn, with surprising grace. He’d done this before.

I caught sight of our mingled clothes, piled in a heap on the carpet. Val would certainly have punished such sloppiness. It was an effort to keep from kneeling to fold the garments neatly.

But I could not have done so. Emboldened, Paul trapped me against the wall with his body, right there in the entryway. The twin light switches pressed into the small of my back a little painfully. His newly-dominant attitude activated my doll reflexes, but I beat them back and made a point of struggling against him, as if to get free.

At this he paused and fixed me with eyes.

“Koishi, listen to me. If you say the word ‘no’, we stop. Otherwise I’ll assume you’re saying ‘yes’. Okay?” This was the fine print.

Pinned under his gaze, breathing fast, I nodded once.
Yes.

§

Naked, we fell to the leather couch and explored one another.

He had strong hands and it felt good to be gripped by them. He was a little rough, but he could have no idea how much farther I’d gone with Val. And had there been any lingering marks on my body at the time, I would have shown them with pride, offered them as proof and a challenge.

Lacking those, however, I simply assured him, “I won’t break, you know.”

I matched his ardor and did not let him dawdle. Beneath his body, I reached between his legs and stroked the proud root of him, while biting his nipples. The foreplay lasted all of five minutes.

Then he sat up and extracted a condom from his pants pocket. I tickled him while he worked to slip it on. This annoyed him a bit, complicating an already rather indelicate business.

“The good knight brought his armor, I see,” I said with a laugh. It was fun to taunt the man. I wanted him a little angry, and it worked.

Without prompting he held my hands over my head and plunged into me, producing a riot of emotions I hadn’t expected. I savored his weight, his musk, his animal need. I enjoyed struggling noisily beneath him, and not being ordered to hold perfectly still and silent, as Val often did.

I used the most scandalous language I knew, playing him like an instrument, spurring him on. When he foolishly attempted to synchronize our climaxes, I moved hard upon him and forced him to come almost against his will. He gave himself to it, then, with astonishing intensity. His face seemed wracked with pain, but the sounds he uttered gave proof of his pleasure.

Then he released my hands and fell upon me, gasping and suddenly a bit apologetic, so like a man. Annoyed, I shushed him and simply cherished the fine ache of my own unsatisfied need for a few moments. When his breathing had slowed I pushed his head between my legs, told him exactly what to do. His obedience was intoxicating. Suddenly I understood a bit of what motivated Val’s need for dominance.

It was absolute, velvet perfection.

I could imagine Val standing there, amused by the rebellion which only made me crave her more. And pleased by the new thing I was becoming. Had I not been lost in the raptures of the moment, I would have been very afraid.

§

We rested, cuddling in silence. Thirty minutes later we did it again in the shower, with the new geometries that setting offered, while trying not to slip and brain ourselves in the process. Shower sex, we learned, was more risky than erotic. But we soldiered on anyway.

Afterward we dressed, I in pajamas and he in his clothes. He watched me prepare tea for us both, sitting on one of the two stools by the counter top separating my living room and kitchen. It was a little after eleven.

“You’re one crazy lady,” he said at length.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Try me,” he goaded.

“I don’t want to scare you off.”

“I’m a big boy, Koishi,” he said.

“So I noticed. Just…be patient. For me.”

He sipped his tea, not knowing what to say next.

“You’re welcome to stay,” I offered. “But I have to get up by six at the latest. Stay with me.”

He did.

§

Spooned against my back, arm draped heavily over me, Paul slept like a baby.

But I could not. The night was a timeless blur marked only by the white noise of cars on the 101 Freeway, outside my balcony. I floated in a non-space of half-dreams, shapeless lusts, and a nagging sense of important things left undone. The sky was still dark at 5:47am when I slipped from under Paul’s arm and took a shower.

While washing my hair, a thought struck me:
could Paul be another of Val’s games?
Perhaps she had thrust him into my life for the purpose of later mischief, as she’d done with the photographs? Panic gripped me for an instant. But no, it was impossible; our meeting had been entirely random. Val could not have known I’d be shopping at that mall, on that night. Could she? No, I was simply being paranoid.

By the time I emerged from the shower, Paul had risen and was making breakfast.

“I didn’t know how you like them. But it’s hard to go wrong with eggs Lorraine and bacon,” he said.

I made coffee for us both, mine strong. This was my second sleepless night in a row, and I would be a zombie later, oh yes.

The sky outside was nearing sunrise as we sat at my small dining table, facing each other.

“You really didn’t have to cook,” I said.

“And you didn’t have to call me last night. But you did.”

Fair enough.

As for the food, I was impressed. It was quite good, though much heartier than my usual weekday breakfast of cereal or fruit.

“You’re a complex woman, Koishi,” Paul said.

I looked at the clock. “Oh my god, I’m a very
late
woman. I gotta go to work.” I finished my eggs and stood up quickly, taking my plate to the kitchen. “I’ll clean this up when I get home.”

He put his shoes on as I gathered my things. When I held the front door open for him, he stopped, leaned forward, and gently put his lips to mine. It wasn’t a demanding kiss.

“In case we don’t see each other again, milady, it was an honor,” he said graciously. “But I wouldn’t mind taking you to a proper dinner.”

I told him I’d consider it.

§

It was Thursday, and still no contact from Val. I knew she’d wait for me to contact her, but I checked my cell phone’s voice and text messages anyway. More than once.

Two sleepless nights in a row had made a mess of me. I had the misfortune of forgetting my security badge again, and when Tyler noticed the circles under my eyes he refused to raise the gate until I assured him I was okay. I snapped at him this time, and ordered him to open the gate. He let me through after putting on a clownish expression of dismay. Patronizing asshole.

I tried to nap during lunch, on the ratty couch we kept in a windowless equipment room. It wasn’t uncommon for artists to crash there, after an all-nighter. But the nap only sharpened my craving for real sleep. It was all I could do to make it to the end of the day.

The drive home in traffic was hot and sticky, miserable with my car’s air conditioner still broken. Once home, I didn’t even bother to wash the morning’s dishes. I turned on the AC, took a cool shower, wolfed down a TV dinner and went to bed.

Finally sleep, long denied, claimed me.

§

As promised, Trish called from the airport Friday night, to firm up dinner plans for the following day. But thankfully she had no time to ask penetrating questions about my relationship. Still, it was only a temporary reprieve; she’d want to hear about everything over dinner tomorrow. How much did I dare I tell her?

§

Saturday night we met at BK’s Brewhaus, a trendy pizza-place-and-microbrewery in Burbank. Back when we both worked at Pixelmatic FX, it was our favorite hangout for dinner and drinks. The place held many good memories.

Under the parking lot floodlights, I almost didn’t recognize my friend. Instead of the corn rows or braids I remembered, she’d had her hair straightened and cut in a sassy bob. But the key chain in her hand was just as full of baubles and fobs as before, and just as cacophonous.

When we hugged, the key chain made a complex metallic sound at my back. She smelled faintly of Givenchy.

“Wow, look at you!” I exclaimed, when we stood back to take each others’ measure. She smiled beatifically, her smooth white teeth seeming to glow in that chocolate face. And I adored her dimples.

“Looking good yourself, sweetie. How ya been?”

A difficult question, especially when I didn’t know the answer myself. “Great, great,” I said.

Inside the restaurant we gave our name to the hostess, but didn’t wait long to be seated. We stuck to generic chit-chat until our beers arrived, and then she turned the conversation to the subject I’d been dreading.

“So,” she said eagerly, leaning forward with arms crossed on the table, “Tell me about this person you’re seeing.”

Oh boy.

“Val? She’s…pretty different, I’ll say that. Definitely an A-type personality. Kind of dominating.” I’d added that last bit on impulse, just to test the waters.

But Trish didn’t catch the hint. “So she’s nothing like Norbert, then?”

“No, not like
Norman
. Oh god, he wouldn’t last five minutes with Val.” Despite everything, that made me laugh. “But anyway, I’m not quite sure what’s going on with us. We had a fight the day after you called, and I haven’t spoken to her since.”