Shh...Mine (This. Is. Not. Over.) Page 9

Danielle

  The Four Seasons

  I wasn’t always the serious bookworm everyone in high school thought I was. For example, in Jasmine and my junior year, we snuck out of our dorm at St. Bernadette’s to attend a concert. One of our favorite bands, Radiohead, was playing and there were at this local dive in Boston’s Theatre District. Most alternative rock musicians back then still liked to play at the small spots that made them famous. So Jasmine and I snuck out one night at nine o’clock, put my BMW in neutral and literally pushed it away from the dorms and out of the main gate. Once on the highway, it was a thirty-five minute drive to the small club, where Radiohead was playing. I can even remember what I had on, dark jeans and a black strappy shirt with penny loafers and Jasmine had on a black dress. Radiohead’s newest album Ok Computer had just come out and it was up there on my favorite list right along Bone Thugs in Harmony’s Thuggish Ruggish Bone (don’t you dare laugh, they weren’t rappers they were singers, let’s be honest) and Nirvana’s Nevermind.

  We winked and smiled our way into the club, along with slipping the door guy a hundred dollars apiece, and then we waited to hear one of our favorite bands, live. My hair was down, believe it or not, and was super frizzy, just the way I wanted it. Damn, I felt free. But it wasn’t until Radiohead played my favorite song on the album, that my life changed. This song was the basis on which I built my entire sexual fantasy life. I don’t know why; the words are weird and obsessive but music is such an intricate part of my blood, I loved it anyways. So, when I heard the downbeat of the song, I knew that they were about to sing it. I knew every word, line for line. It was and still is the sexist song out there sung by a rock band. Climbing Up The Wall. It was a classic, is a classic and was the beginning of my sexual revolution. Unfortunately for me, I had never felt the energy and uninhibited burst of seduction that Climbing Up The Wall gave me, in bed. I just figured it didn’t exist. Music is powerful; it’ll make you want things that are impossible. Or so I thought. Because, right now, at this very moment, I know that Climbing Up The Wall is certainly a possibility. Why? Because it’s exactly what I’m doing.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Those are the words running through my head right now, punctuating each thrust. Should it feel this good? Is the caffeine from the espresso revving me up, giving me that extra jolt of lightening I feel ripping through my nerves? Oh my god…oh my god….Wait! Am I saying that out loud? Oh how embarrassing. No, I have to calm down…breath…relax…don’t get too loud…what if the people next door hear? This is the Four Seasons, not the damn Motel 8. You just can’t get your brains fucked out at the Four Seasons! This hotel is made for boring sex with rich boring white people. You’re having Motel 8 sex. Stoppit! Calm down…lower your voice. Relax your body, gain control.

  “Stay with me Red.” Oh god, he just growled that in my ear. Those words just reverberated in my ear drum. No, I can’t just go around screaming like a wild banshee. I can’t go around yelling for this man to go harder. This is not the Motel 8! No, I must relax and calm down. “Danielle…” Oh goodness…he sounds like he begging me. He’s begging me to get back into it. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one grunting at the top of his lungs. He’s the not the one-

  “Oh god!” Oh no, I just let that slip out. Was that too loud? Can the old white rich boring people next door here? Can they hear- “Oh. God. Oh. God. Oh. God. Oh. God.” Still punctuating. Ohmygod…ohmygod…ohmygod…ohmygod….In…out…in…out…in…out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Oh. God. Oh God. Oh. God. In! Out! In! Out! Oh! God! Oooooh! Goddd! “Malcoooolm.” Maybe if I say his name he’ll stop so that I can regain my composure. Maybe it’ll grab his attention.

  “Yeah, baby…” Did he just growl that in my ear again? Did he just…his fingers. His fingers are on my…They’re on my…they’re rubbing on my… In… out… rubbing… In… out… rubbing… In… out… rubbing… sliding… rubbing… sliding… I close my eyes and lean my head all the way back against the bed. I surrender. Just. Do. It.

  “Don’t. Stop.” It is a command, not a cutesy reply to rev up a man’s ego. This is a demand. This is not said in a sexy voice.

  “Yes ma’am.” I hear him let out a light laugh. My mouth is frozen into an O shape; I couldn’t laugh if I tried. Mmm…my mouth. His tongue is inside of my mouth now so I suck on it. He smiles. The night is still young, my darling. I smile, look up at him and wink. He flashes his eyebrows, leans completely over me, his body covering every inch of me and he…thruuuuuuusts…ooooh….shiiiit. Instinctively, I dig my palms into his chest and try to push him away. I didn’t know that was coming! We were being playful and then you just…oh, here it comes again. Uuuuuuhhh. That’s the sound I make when he does a deep slow sweep inside of me before finding my mouth again. That does it. I’m in a panic now. I am attacking this man’s mouth. I’m angry! Who else have you been fucking! Tell me everyone you’ve been with! How could you be with anyone before me! I hate you! Thruuuuuusts…uuuuuuhhhh. Uh! Oh, that was unexpected. I wasn’t expecting you to- uh! Wait…wait, let me just- uh! Malcolm wait…uh! Uh! Uh! Oh god! I’ve got to move up, I need a second. Wait-uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! You’re making me punctuate! I try to run but he’s hearing none of it. He pulls me back down by my thighs so that I’m securely underneath him. Mine. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Mal! Colm! Mal! Colm!

  “Malcoooooolm…” I whine it. He tugs at my nipple. Oh god, the other one…the other one…please, please…yeeeeeeeesss. I wrap my hand within his hair. Wow, this feels different. I let it smooth through my fingers and put it in a death grip. This only seems to get his juices pumping since he’s now tugging and rubbing and thrusting and rubbing and tugging and biting and thrusting and thrusting and sucking and rubbing and thrusting. Right. There. Right. There. Right. There. Right. There. Right. Here. Right. Here. I’m…I’m…I’m…I’m about…I’m about…I’m about…I’m…I’m…Now he’s inches from my face. Our noses are touching.

  “Look at me.” He growls out again. I can’t, because I’m about to… ”Look at me, Red.” I can’t. I can’t. “Open your eyes.” Fine! Fine! I’m about to…I’m about to…I can’t keep my eyes open, it’s not possible. “Look at me.” Whop! He thrusts hard inside of me. Fuuuuuuuccck! “Look at me.”

  “Oh god...”

  “Look at me.”

  “Yes...” I will. I will. I am. He nods at me once we lock eyes.

  “Stay with me…” I’m here…I’m here…I’m here…I’m here… He smiles and nods again. “Come on…” I’m coming…I’m coming…I’m comiiiiing…

  July 1st

  I tug at his bottom lip and he smiles. Damn he is so sexy. He’s so controlled and comfortable in his own skin. Nothing seems to ruffle him, not the blond guy who kept looking at me as we came into this bar, not the men who came over to say hi to him and held my hand for a few moments too long. He just grins with those teasing eyes of his. His body moves with such fluidity, no doubt from his days as a college ball player. His movements seem so relaxed, so smooth, nothing catches him by surprise; he’s never caught off guard. He’s not startled when his clients pop up at our table, out of nowhere, to say hi. I jump, he just smiles. How’s it going? Enjoying the island? This is Danielle…yeah she is beautiful…and smart. I’m sure you remember her face…yeah, that’s her…what can I say, I’m the luckiest white boy here. Wit. Charm. Control. Someone else besides me who has control. It’s such a fucking turn-on.

  I hope no one sees me in this booth all over this man but if they do, oh well. I’ve never been this uninhibited in my life. Never. Ever. We’re at the same bar I met him just a couple of days ago but this time, I’m not focused on the Spanish Monarchy and their fairytale life, right now I’m in my own fantasy. I nearly straddle my fantasy and hear him laugh deep inside his chest.

  “Don’t laugh at me.” I moan out before I tug at his bottom lip again. His hand finds my bottom and he pulls me even closer to him. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” I slide my hands into his pants and hear that quiet, deep chest laugh again. For twelve ye
ars, I’ve fantasized about this man. I’ve fantasized about Malcolm Blair and had no idea that he was the object of my desire. So right now, I am living out my fantasies with him. I am free. He is large. Let’s do this shit.

  “Do whatever you want to me.” He says in my ear, his voice smiling. I bury my head into his neck and take a deep smell.

  “I love your smell.” His finds my mouth and he slides his tongue in. And then the attack begins. It’s a clash of worlds right now; he’s been eager for twelve years, I’ve been dormant for twelve years. I hate to create a scene and I sincerely hope that I’m not. The bar is almost pitch black, someone just put on The Raconteurs’ Blue Veins and all the country clubbers down here are on vacation so they’re drunk. Malcolm and I are just two fish in a sea of night life swarming around us with pool balls slapping sticks, glasses crashing onto tables and liquor making everyone’s voice rise two octaves higher than normal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a classy bar filled with nothing but bluebloods but even the upper-crust needs to unwind and I’ve decided to join them.

  So while Malcolm and I are locked onto each right now, can I admit something? Okay, here goes. I admit that I am not just attracted to this man for his dedication to me for twelve years. I am attracted to the way he looks, dresses and the power he has. There I said it.

  First off, let’s talk about the way he dresses. Now don’t you dare consider me silly and shallow, everyone judges a book by its cover, so don’t give me that shit. And for me, there’s nothing sexier than a man who wears Tom Ford and cufflinks but can still throw on shorts, a button-up with the sleeves rolled up, a Rolex and….get this…a pair of Nikes. Now, I will say that the Nikes Malcolm is wearing are now sold in J.Crew, but still… Please understand, I see the symbolism in almost everything in life. I see something as silly as a pair of shoes as one of the greatest indicators of a person. Stilettos means sexy. Ballet flats mean traditional. Loafers means conformist. Sperry’s mean haughty. Adidas mean nostalgic. Knee high boots mean trendy. Nikes mean cool as hell. They’re just about the only shoe that has their own phrase.

  Then there’s his power. Yes, his power. We walked into Oyster Bar and people knew him, they sent round of drinks, they welcomed him back to the island. Pats on the back were exchanged, introductions of me were given. I was greeted with smiles, eagerness, and powerful handshakes. You’re with Malcolm? Well then you’re alright with me. Does that sound bad? Probably but you have to understand, I am a force to be reckoned with. I don’t take any shit. I was called badass Red in high school; I was called a bitch in college. All that means is that people recognize my authority, my drive, my power. I’m not interested in a weak man nor am I interested in one that I have to babysit. I need someone who can match me strength for strength, blow for blow. So combine my fantasy of him, the way in which he carries himself and the way in which people view him and you have someone that I cannot keep my hands off of. It’s the entire package that makes a man…if only in his lover’s mind. Your own perception means everything.

  “Another round of drinks sent over.” I hear the waitress say. I don’t even bother to look up, my head is in Malcolm’s neck and my tongue is making its way across it. Clients have been sending Malcolm and me drinks all night, clearly kissing his ass. There’s no telling what kind of dirt he has on them.

  “Thank you.” Malcolm says. It’s remarkable how he can keep his composure at a time like this.

  “Is this bad?” I ask in his ear.

  “For once, Red, enjoy yourself.” That’s all I need to hear. I’m lost in the noise and the blues and the liquor and this man. He’s found my mouth again and has placed his hand behind my head so that I don’t go anywhere. My hand finds its way up his shirt and past every perfect chisel on his body. Hard. Speaking of hard…I reach my hand down again and let it slide inside of his shorts. He nods for me to keep going and then tugs at my bottom lip. “Enjoy yourself…” I take my single most favorite part on his body and slide my hand over it before reaching deeper down and starting a soft juggling act. He smiles against my lips.

  “Fuck me.” It’s all I need to whisper against his lips. With one clean swipe, he takes his wallet out of his pocket, reaches in and throws some bills out of the table before sliding me out of the booth. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, we both are bombarded with goodbyes and see you laters. And of course Malcolm paste on a smile and makes sure to address everyone, his tall frame leaning into the shoulders of men as they slap each other on the hands. I’m five, nine so what is he? Six, one? Six, two? Doesn’t matter, he’s perfect. I watch him smirk at a table near the front doors before he pulls me in even closer. I look at the table and see the Blond guy who was watching me when first walked in. Right now he looks pissed.

  “Who’s that?” I ask as we walk out the door.

  “Just someone I met a couple of days ago.”

  “Oh.” And as we hit the fresh air, I spin around in front of him, grab him by his shirt collar and crash his lips against mine. The one thing about Hilton Head summers is that anything seems to go. After family time is over at the beach during the day, the parents leave their kids with the nannies and that’s where anything goes. As soon as the sky’s completely dark, you’ll hear Coldplay blaring from drop tops, beer bottles clinking together, the shrill sounds of ladies laughing, and men’s bravado breaking through the laughter. We may be grownups now but we still like to chill the fuck out! So I have no problem being pressed against Malcolm’s Audi right now with our lips locked as child-free parents stroll by. For all they know, we’re married with kids ourselves. You’ve still got that kind of passion after having two kids and a dog? Good for you. He fumbles for the unlock button on his car alarm and I laugh at him as he keeps locking the car. Beep. Beep. “Hurry!” I yell with a laugh.

  “What the fuck…” He studies the key ring with a smile as if it’s locking the door on its own. “This is what happens when I get excited.” He growls in my ear as he pulls me away from the car door to open it.

  “No.” I shut the passenger door. “I can’t wait.” Did I just see a moment of surprise rush over his face? I think I did! Malcolm Blair, shocked by my sexual revolution? I turn and open the back door and slide in. Now, let’s see, how are we going to do this? Ah, I know. I sit my bottom on the middle console and spread my legs. He climbs in, shuts the door and gives me a smirk. I nod my head. Yes, right here. He shrugs. No big deal. I laugh and then feel him pulling my panties off and then sliding them down my legs. He points to my dress. Watch this. He slides it up. I point to his shorts. Take them off. He shakes his head no. No? No. He leans me back and then…oooooooohhhh. What have I been missing for twelve years? Was he always like this? Could I have been the luckiest woman in the world? This. Damn. Man. My stilettos are on the headrests, my fingers are wrapped in his hair and my eyes are shut as tight as I can close them. Can I just stay like this forever? This is so out of my element. This is so not me. I am responsible. I have had one partner my entire life and now I’m on number two. And I am married! But I was tense. I was uptight. I was unloved. I was stressed. I was sad. I am twenty-seven. I am young. I am human. I am happy.

  “Malcolm!” The scream from outside of the car jolts me out of bliss and within seconds Malcolm is sitting up, confused as hell. We both squint through his tinted windows and into the night until her face becomes clear. She’s the woman from Belgium. Her hair is down now and it’s in a bob but I know that face. That un-pretty but polished face.

  “Is that your…fiancé?” I say as I pick my lace panties up. Malcolm takes them from me and wipes his mouth off and hands them back.

  “Shit. Here we go.” He says as he opens the back door and steps out. I put my panties on and rush out of the car to see Cocoa Lady and the waiting cab she ascended from. “Not here, Laura.” I hear Malcolm trying to give her his best low baritone voice to soothe her over. But it’s not working. Laura is spouting off at the mouth at an unfathomable rate and I have to admit, I’m startled. I never imagined I�
�d see the ever-so polished Cocoa Lady in such rare form. From what I can hear, Cadence is involved. She keeps mentioning his name. Cadence…Cadence…Cadence.

  “One mistake! You leave me after one mistake?” She asks. Her eyes are wide, almost bulging, she’s moving erratically and she hasn’t even made mention that I’m standing here.

  “Laura, relax.” Malcolm takes her by her arm but she fights away, insistent on going into the bar for some reason.

  “Everyone I know is in there! Have they already seen you? Have they seen you with Red?” She shoots her head around so that her eyes throw darts at me. Who the hell is she to call me Red? She doesn’t know me.

  “Laura.” He says calmly as he’s rushing to grab her before she heads towards the front door. “Some of my clients are in there, you can’t-“

  And then Laura turns wild and begins screaming at a deafening volume. I hear her make mention of a home, how they need to live there together, how they were perfect before, why can’t they be perfect again. She’s so wired that I back away from them and find myself near the cab. I watch Malcolm wrap his arms wrapped around her, whispering for her to relax. Wow, is she loony or what? His soothing tactics don’t work on the nut job; she charges for the bar door again.

  “This is my life!” She yells. “Not hers, mine!”

  “Okay, come on Laura.” Malcolm still has his soothing voice on as he tries to walk her to his car. But she’s trying to break free and soon he’s picking her up and placing her in the car while she screams something about Cadence.

  “Malcolm, I’ll catch this home.” I point to the cab and quickly head to its back door. The cabbie rushes outside of his cab at this point, appearing as though he thinks he should help Malcolm.

  “Come get my wallet Danielle.” Malcolm says as he struggles to get Lola in the car.

  “I have the cash Malcolm, just-” He rips the wallet out of his pocket and tosses it in the air to the cabbie. And I have no time to argue because now Laura is trying to break free from the car. I don’t say goodbye. I rush into the back of the cab and slam the door behind me. The cabbie does the same and then hands me Malcolm’s wallet.