Red Hot Blues (12 page)

“I’d never do that.”

I shake my head. People promise lots of
things in the heat of the moment. Looking at his boots—the boots
he’s been riding a pink bicycle with all day!—I say, “Ace, let’s be
real. We’re not teenagers. And if you wanna end it at what we just
did—”

“I don’t.”

I look up flirtatiously at him. “What, you
want
more
than what you just got?”

He looks behind me at the dude looking out at
the public square. I’m speaking softly but it’s so quiet up here
that maybe the guy
can
hear us.

Ace whispers, “It’s not about that with you,
Gin.”

“Ooh, my, you
are
good!” I like
flirting with him. I’ve had my confidence-shot for the month, so
now I’m on a roll.

He shakes his head.

“Hey!” I say, grabbing his shoulders. “Don’t
be so serious, babe. I’m just playing with you.”

He looks at me intensely. “I don’t wanna play
about that. I’m a lot of things, Gin. A lot. A lot of bad things.
But I’m not that. I’ve played girls, plenty, but I’m not playing
you. I...
like
...you.”

Wow.

It feels like the world just tilted a
little.

I try and keep it light. Try and remember to
breathe.
One breath in, one breath out.

“Don’t say stuff like that to me.” I can
barely look him in the eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t deal with intense. I...need
it light.”

“Why? So you don’t
feel
?”

“You hardly know me, Ace.”

“I know enough. And I know I like you.”

It’s too much to deal with. Too much.

The dude that walked up earlier starts to go
back down the steps. Maybe he’s sick of hearing the love-talk
behind him, or of feeling the sexual tension in the air.

Ace and I say nothing while the man walks
down, and then finally disappears.

It’s just me and him again.

Twilight. Almost darkness.

And a cold wind.

Ace bends down, grabs me by the shoulders. I
lift my head so my lips can meet his. He touches his to mine,
gently, softly.

This is different now. Different. Sensual.
Scary
. This is
close
. This is
emotional
.

This is a problem.

My world spins as my fears take root,
throwing fists at my chest while his tongue dances over my lower
lip, scrapes against my teeth, and finally pierces into my mouth
and buries itself so far into me that I can’t breathe.

My legs have widened again, instinctively.
Millennia of genetic experience already expecting what I’m thinking
I might also want to happen. With Ace. Just one night.

I’m up against the wall, feeling his hard
body on mine.

This makes no sense.
No
sense! And
yet...I’m overwhelmed by it. Going along with it. Caught in a drift
and being ridden by it.

It’s too good. The feeling, the emotions:
They’re too good. I’m being lied to. My mind is lying to me—my
genes
are lying to me!—telling me it’ll be OK, that he’ll
stay, that things will work out—

I don’t care. His tongue, his breath, the
salty flavor of his skin.

I want more.

I slide my tongue out to the side of his
mouth, lick his lips. Put my hands behind his neck and drag him
down to me, lifting my pelvis toward him.

He’s hardening. My body is his, completely
his.

But not here. Not here.

“We need a room,” I tell him.

He stops, cups my cheeks, smiles. “Damn right
we do.”

“I have a roommate. I could tell her I need
the apartment to myself but it’s too damn embarrassing to say it to
her.”

He smiles wider.

“Don’t laugh at me.” I’m embarrassed
already.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m adoring
you.”

I kiss him again. A desperate kiss. Clutching
his hair in my fingers and not letting go. Feeling the thrum and
sizzle between my legs. Wanting to crest, to be taken over the edge
with him. Burning. Tingling. “Oh, god, I want you so badly, Ace.”
But I shouldn’t have you.

He pins me to the concrete wall with his
body, his shaft again hard and pushing at my soft mound. He buries
his lips on my neck, starts sucking. I feel the tingle, feel the
strength leave me.
Oh, god, I haven’t gotten a hickey in
so
long!
My eyes sting and burn. Shafts of lustful pain shoot
down my neck and he just sucks and kisses and...

I imagine sucking as well. And I don’t know
why I imagine it because I’ve never done that but... With him.
Maybe. Maybe I would.

Maybe it’s the intimacy of it. This feeling
of trust I have for him. Even though I hardly know him?

Oh, god, he has to make me come again or
else I’m not gonna be able to think straight!

I give a low, slow moan and feel the pressure
of his sucking lips bolt down my body all the way through my nether
lips, down my thighs, calves, and out my toes.

“Oh. My. God.”

He pulls away. “Let’s get a room,” he
says.

I’m delirious, lost in the moment. He grabs
my fingers and before I know it I’m downstairs looking at the green
grass of the public square and he’s got me on the bicycle and we’re
riding past the fountains and all I know is I need to follow the
pink bicycle with the guy in the cowboy boots.

Then we’re back at the Renaissance Hotel, but
this time at the reception, and Ace has his credit card out and
he’s booked us a room but my mind is still whirling because my neck
is tingling. And did I hear her say this is part of the Marriott
family of hotels?

Yikes.

In the elevator, he pulls my back against
him, his cock hard and beautiful, snuggled between the generous
buns of my butt and he’s leaning down and kissing my neck. His
hands move up my sides. Shivers thrill through me—

The elevator stops. I feel Ace’s head lift
up. An older couple gets in, smiles. I don’t remember smiling
back.

And then we’re in the room—how we got here, a
blur. And I fall on a bed so comfortable I think I could climax
just lying on it. Ace climbs on top of me, presses down against me,
kisses my salty neck and ears and pushes down at my most sensitive
spot—

We’re in the moment, lost in each other, the
culmination of a dozen or a hundred other unspoken “moments” shared
throughout the day today, where he knew what I was saying and I
knew what he was thinking. Inexplicable moments. Moments of magic,
the meeting of two minds. Moments of just
knowing this will be
OK.

Moments of not caring, of wanting him, of
dreaming of
this
precise second. On this bed. Him above
me...

He breathes in deeply of me and kisses my
neck, my chest, starts pushing the straps of my dress down.

“Wait.”

He doesn’t.

“Wait, Ace. Wait.”

He stops kissing me. Looks up at me
desperately. Wanton, sexy desire in his eyes. “What?”

“I need to shower.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not. I...need to shower. I can’t have
you kissing my dirty skin after a full day of cycling in the
sun.”

“You taste like M&Ms.”

“And you’re a bullshitter. And good at what
you do!”

He shrugs as if to say,
I do OK.

“Asshole!”

“I’ll shower with you.”

And see my rolls of fat?
“No, please,
let me shower alone. I’ll be five minutes. And then I’ll be squeaky
clean.”

Misunderstanding my reasoning, he says,
“Gin”—
Oh, god, I love the way he says my name
—“we’re not
gonna do anything you’re not comfortable with in there. And,
personally, I’m not a hundred percent comfortable with having sex
with you either. Not yet.”

Not sure how I should understand that
one...

He picks up on my confusion.

“Gin! You’re too sensitive! What I mean by
that is...well...it’s a little embarrassing to say it.”

“Just fucking say it because you have me
falling off the personal insecurities cliff here.”

“I’ve told you already. I like you. I don’t
want to hurt you. And unless...I can...
commit
...to you...
Well, sex is different. Sex is...a commitment.”

He gets up off me. Moves onto a one-seater
and sits.

I sit up on the bed, legs dangling off the
edge. “You’re telling me every girl you’ve slept with has been a
commitment? That smells an
awful
lot like
bullllllshit
to me!”

“No. I’m saying that sex with
you
would necessitate a commitment. At least in my books. Don’t make me
explain that. It’s just the way it is...with you.”

Right. Punch to the chest. Deep. Very
deep.

“Gin?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just had to catch my breath
there.”
This is already getting serious.
Maybe he really
does like me. As in, for real. “Well, FYI, I wasn’t going to let
you sleep with me.” Saying it out loud makes me realize it for the
first time. It’s one thing to dream. It’s another to act. I’d be
uncomfortable acting on this so soon. “I, unlike you, have not
slept with anyone and everyone in the world. I have standards,” I
joke.

“Hey!”

“But sex with
anyone
is a commitment
to me also. And I’m...not ready to commit to anyone.”
Now or
ever
. “But I do want to have some fun with you.”

“I want to have more than fun.” He leans
forward, an intense storm raging in his eyes.

I put an index finger up. “Don’t make it
serious, Ace. I don’t do serious very well. I’m doing OK here
because we’re keeping it light.”
Uh-huh, his finger inside me
was keeping it light?
“Well, light-
ish
.”

“Shower, Gin. Because I want to do things to
you that they censor out of books.”

“Not these days, baby. You’ve been reading
entirely the wrong genre.”

In the bathroom, looking in the mirror at my
“Slightly Larger than Lena Dunham on a Good Day” figure: Rolly
stomach when I sit. Dimply hips when I stand. Muffin-top. Nice
“tits.” Yep. Not bad. A little droopy, but fleshy. A good asset, I
decide. So now I have a sexy voice
and
sexy tits.

OK.

Thighs? They’re OK, I guess. They’re large,
yeah, but shapely. I can see that now. I see the muscles in them
when I flex. Uh-huh. I can see how a dude might like those.

Confidence shot. I’d been missing my
confidence shot for the year... No, the decade.

Ass, view from the side. Hmmm. Not a good
asset. Moving on.

Suck the tummy in. Looks good, but I can’t
breathe. Forget that. Just put the lights off.

Calves, upper arms, forearms. I stretch my
arms out. Not cool. A little droopy at the bottom. Layna says
they’re not. But Layna’s biased. All best friends are biased. It’s
what makes them best friends.

“Gin?” Ace’s voice from outside the door.

“Gimme a minute. A girl has to get herself
ready!”

My hair, not bad.

My mind drifts... Hell, that was
hot
at the observation point. How he just came for me. Out of nowhere.
Damn! I hadn’t been expecting it. And when he did, when he slid up
behind me. I was his. Completely his.

I’m glad I met him. I’d really like to stay
in touch with him. He’s basically the first guy I’ve done
anything
beyond second base with since high school. That’s
gotta check off Friend Forever right there, right? I hate it that
people who hook up never stay friends. I don’t want to lose Ace as
a friend, so I need to play this cool. I need to not let it go too
far.

“Gin?”

“Damn it, boy, put a leash on it!”

“OK.” A weak sound.

And I trust him. Maybe this is good for me. I
can tell he cares, as best as he can. I understand his whole
commitment thing. What he doesn’t know is that I’m worse than him.
I can’t commit. Not to him. Not to anyone. Too much pressure. What
if I gain ten pounds next month? Maybe I’m OK-looking now. Maybe.
But ten more pounds? I can’t do that to him. And I can’t guarantee
I won’t put it on. Even if I stop drinking Frappuccinos for the
rest of my life.

I think this is good for me. A little fun. A
little confidence booster with a dude I like hanging out with.
Yeah, you go girl.

I can do this.

I put on my sweaty dress again. Going out
naked in that well-lit room is out of the question.

When I get in the room I see Ace lying on the
bed, arm behind his head.
Sexy.

I gulp.

He gets up, goes to the shower, but on his
way he slows down when he reaches me. Looks down at me with greedy
eyes.

And then his fingers just graze past me.
There.

I think I make a yelp of a sound, or a
whimper. I do know that my legs go weak and that moisture pumps out
of me in one solid endocrinal
pump
.

Then he’s gone, into the shower.

I dim the lights so they’re almost off. When
he comes out (three minutes, tops), I’m on the bed, in my dress.
Waiting.

And he has no shirt on.

I almost die.

He’s perfect. Just perfect. Not an ounce of
fat. Everything I’m not. And that tattoo on his arm, turned away
from me now so I still can’t fully make it out. But it covers his
shoulder, and most of his bicep. It’s huge.

I’m so nervous, so self-conscious suddenly. I
can’t even look at him.

I look away, at the window, waiting for the
moment of mortification to disappear. I say, “We can just kiss, if
you want.”

Before I know it, he’s on top of me—this
Hercules is on top of me! And he’s kissing me, and his muscles are
so powerful and striated and perfect that I feel completely out of
my depth. “Now why the fuck would I want to do only that?” he says,
and he goes down for a kiss on my ear, licking me, pressing his
manhood down below against me.

I can’t answer him. The lust grows in me,
fueled by his musk and his grinding and pushing. My breathing
deepens. “I still don’t know what you’re doing with me.”