Contemporary Nights Volume One Page 5

  I debate on changing out of my yoga clothes and decide against it. Not like I’m going to impress anyone. I run my fingers through my short hair and head out.

  Sure, and you’re fluffing your hair to make sure you look good for who…?

  Ignoring my inner voice of obviousness I continue to the bar.

  Sexually frustrated from my aborted evening with Brian, I scan the packed establishment for my co-worker. “Question on the account, my ass. Where is he?” Grabbing my cell, I dial his number.

  “Carla?” His voice sounds softer than the noise of the bar around me.

  “Yeah. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the back, down the hall. It’s quieter here.”

  “Fine. I’ll come to you.” Pressing my way through the throng, I make it to the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. “Andy?” A hot hand latches onto my arm and pulls me into a side storage room. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You want something spicy, and I’m giving it to you.” A strip of dark cloth covers my eyes and I’m pressed against a shelving rack. Rough movements tie the material at the back of my head and a hard body presses into mine from behind. “You’ve been a bad girl, Carla.”

  Excitement cascades up my spine, but I’ll be damned if I tell him.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go or I’m going to scream.”

  “Oh, you’ll scream, all right,” he plants a soft kiss on my neck, “but not in fear or anger.” Hands reach around and grab my breasts over my snug cotton top. Despite what I keep telling myself about this frustrating man, my body responds and my nipples tighten.

  “Not funny, you bastard.” I’m uncomfortable with the power this exciting moment holds over me. “Look, I know you’re not a rapist. You should stop before you do something illegal.”

  Clever fingers twist my hardened peaks through the lace covering them, drawing a gasp from me.

  “I know what you need, Carla.”

  “Really? If you did you’d be letting me go, right now. I don’t like this kind of shit.”

  My shirt slides up and cool air tickles my exposed flesh. “Hah!” his voice barks out, rough with desire. “You don’t know what you like. You fumble with the wrong men and think commanding them will get you what you need.”

  His comment strikes too close to reality, especially after I shouted orders at him during our brief encounter. Grasping fingers have worked the cups of my bra down, and stretch my elongated aroused nipples.

  The inability to see him touching me feels freeing. Like the experience is not quite happening to me. Moisture gathers in my panties, and despite my complaints, I can’t deny this is turning me on.

  “Andy—”

  “Shh… Don’t say a word. Just feel for a few minutes.” He removes his hands from my breasts and guides me to hold onto one of the shelves I’m pressed against. “If you are afraid and don’t want me to continue, say so and I’ll stop.”

  My yoga pants are pushed down around my knees, and strong hands guide my bottom to tilt out, on display. He rubs the exposed skin, while waiting for me to answer. Not knowing what will come next and being open to other senses feels…arousing—and not just physically.

  Big hands massage my backside, sparking gooseflesh in the air-conditioned space. The heavy storage room door muffles the noise of the bar and the dust tickles my nose. Cold steel under my hand and the trapped feeling of my pants around my knees invigorate me.

  “Well, Carla? Are you ready to live a little? Silence is your acceptance.”

  Anticipation tightens every muscle in my body. For once I’m speechless. Do I protest or give it a try? The blindfold makes me feel safe, unexposed. I bow my head slightly, unaware if he sees my actions, but I know what I’m doing…. I’m accepting. The rubbing on my bottom ceases and the cool air rises goose bumps.

  Whack! Andy’s hand slaps my right ass cheek.

  “Ow!”

  Smack! Another blow lands on the left cheek. “Shhh… you speak and I’ll spank you.”

  “That’s—”

  Smack!

  The sting from his firm hand sends a thrill up my spine. He’s not hitting to cause damage. Just hard enough to get my attention and show he means it. Heat races to the enflamed skin and a blossom of sensation spreads.

  The tingle creeps to my wet center, alerting me to the throbbing in my clit. Each pulse of blood pumping to my punished flesh sends a jolt of arousal to the little bud as well.

  “You’ve been naughty, Carla. Picking up men in bars.” His warm palm caresses my stinging butt, fingers curving around the firm globes, reaching in toward my thong-covered crotch.

  “Oh yes, that’s right—”

  Three hard slaps follow, rapid fire, leaving me gasping.

  “Quiet. Control yourself and then you’ll get pleasure.”

  Wiggling my ass, I silently beg for one of the soothing caresses to smooth the pain away. I never thought I’d be one to like spanking, but the stinging slaps make me feel alive. More alive than I have in years.

  “Very good.” His voice oozes like honey in the darkness. “You like that, don’t you?”

  Afraid to speak and feel his hand again, I nod my head, hoping he’s looking. The cocooning blackness of the blindfold releases me from worrying about my body—how I’ll look, how he looks…and makes me feel everything. When he reaches beneath my panties and probes my slick folds, a whimper of want escapes.

  Tension fills me—could the sound count as speaking? Will he spank me again? I can’t decide if I want another smack or not.

  Apparently the whimper doesn’t count; he continues to push a thick finger into me. Steadily, he pumps in and out as I struggle to remain still. The elastic straining around my spread knees allows a few inches of space between my thighs. I rise onto my tiptoes, trying to tilt my bottom back for better penetration.

  One hand on my hip pushes me down, lowering my feet flat to the storage room floor. “No, Carla, you let me decide what you feel or I’ll leave you hanging.”

  Outrage heats my face, would he really do that? “No!”

  Slap, slap, slap! “Shush, baby, or you’ll never get there.”

  Annoyance courses through me as the sting in my ass settles down. Who in the hell does he think he is? If I want to come then I should be able to do whatever the hell I want to get myself there. A second finger plunges into my depths, stretching me and pumping faster. The hand on my hip reaches around and rubs my clit through the cotton crotch of my underwear.

  All of my anger fades as a small circling starts. “More,” I say.

  Wet fingers pull from inside me.

  Smack!

  The hardest slap yet. Five more follow quickly and tears sting my eyes. The circling pressure on my clit doesn’t stop the entire time, it increases, pushing me higher and into a wild state of frenzy.

  Soft moans and whimpers spill from my lips and I worry he’s never going to put those fingers back in. A short caress of his hand soothes where he spanked and then he sinks two fingers into me.

  “I’ll tell you when to come. And you’re going to cream over my hands when you do.” His soft voice sounds just above a whisper, sending a chill racing down my back. “I know what you need, Carla.”

  Desperate to hold myself as still as possible, I clench the shelf as another gasp escapes me. A third finger stabs into my depths, driving me higher and closer to the brink.

  “You want it, baby. I feel your muscles inside gripping my fingers.” The hand working my clit stops circling and pulls the fabric roughly to the side. “Just like if my cock were working you deep.” Light pats to the aroused flesh pulls my focus from his plunging fingers.

  “Uh… uh…” Low guttural noises reach my ears, foreign sounding and far away. Good God, they may be coming from me. Pleasure spirals up my spine to course through my body and I bite down to clamp the begging word please from spilling into the night.

  “That’s it, Carla. You’re ready now.”

  Ru
bbing starts on my clit again and the sensations rocket from my crotch in wave after wave of tingles. A scream bubbles forth and echoes back in the small room.

  “Come for me, baby.” Desire pours from me, coating his hand like he said. The pumping continues and my orgasm drags on and on, wringing the very life from me.

  Collapsing forward, I catch myself by locking my elbows for support. The blindfold at my head is loosened and stars fill my vision. Tender hands adjust my underwear and pull my pants and shirt into place.

  Andy wraps himself around my back and wedges his face near my neck. “Consider that your first lesson.”

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew

  My phone rings as I’m getting ready for work. A slow smile creeps across my face as I reach for it, hoping it’s Carla. She refused to come to my place last night and practically ran out of the bar as fast as she could. My musings stop cold when I see the call is from the nursing home caring for my mom.

  “Your mom’s condition has worsened. We think you should come see her today if you can.”

  Pressure fills my chest as I grip the phone. “I’ll be there within the hour.”

  I call work to schedule a personal day and then dial my sister, Andrea. She answers on the first ring. “Did they call you, too?” she asks in lieu of a greeting.

  “Yeah, I was about to leave. Want to go together?”

  “I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  Twenty minutes later and we’re driving to the home in Brooklyn. “Talk to me, Andrea.” I close my fingers over her hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. “How are you doing with all of this?”

  A heavy sigh escapes my sister. “As good as can be expected, I guess.” She takes her eyes off the road to glance at me quickly, the bright blue orbs piercing in their intensity. “It’s not like we didn’t know this was coming.”

  Once more, I grasp her hand on the gearshift, grateful I’ve got her by my side, not dealing with mom’s situation on my own. “She’ll be with Dad soon.”

  We spend the rest of the day at the facility, alternating between sitting at our mom’s bedside and double checking the paperwork to make sure her wishes will be met when she passes. She and my father even picked out their headstone together. If there were ever a more pragmatic and loving couple, I’ve never seen one.

  In a way, watching them as we grew up was a blessing and a curse. Andrea and I never doubted we were loved—our parents were older when they underwent fertility treatments—but we witnessed such a powerful connection between a married couple that we could never settle for less in our own lives.

  I’ve wondered if searching for what they shared has kept my headstrong sister single all these years. She may be a pain in the ass at times, but she’s still an amazing woman.

  Even though I’m here with Andrea and our mom, my thoughts drift to Carla. I’d like nothing more than to call, just to hear her voice. Whether or not she’d be happy to hear from me is another story altogether. We’re not there yet. And I don’t know if we ever will be.

  I’ve watched her for months, slowly falling for the headstrong woman so like my sister. Carla has a softer side, too, one she doesn’t let out much. But I’ve seen it nonetheless.

  I’ve witnessed her race from the office when her friends needed her. I’ve heard her on the phone with the charity she feels so strongly about. I forwarded the email she mistakenly sent to me for donations to my sister who happily sent some older suits to the cause. I’ve seen her return from a yoga session during lunch, with the inner glow of contentment shining from every pore.

  She’s like a spiky durian fruit: her thorny exterior hiding all the sweetness within. Sweetness no other man but me has taken the time to notice. If they had, they wouldn’t have given up after one round with the bossy hellion.

  Carla has ignored my casual advances for months, and rather than put me off, her behavior has intrigued me further. No woman has mentally challenged me as much.

  As I sit here next to my dying mother, one of her favorite sayings comes to me, “Anything worth having in life requires hard work.” Our parents encouraged us to follow our dreams, to never be afraid of failure, and to never give up on what we wanted most.

  The doctor came in a little while ago and assured us she is holding steady, out of the worst part of this recent decline. We can leave and not worry she’ll pass in our absence. But they did advise us to stay in town to be easily reached when her condition changed.

  I lean forward and kiss my mom’s forehead. The waiting is awful, but I know she’ll soon find peace in my father’s arms.

  *****

  The car ride home is quiet, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. Soon we’re minutes from my building and I realize I don’t want today with my sister to end. “Want to go to an early dinner? I’d like to hear about your work.”

  Andrea shrugs, the gesture somehow elegant on her. “Work is work, up and down at best. Got an article coming up about the rise in education for women through online courses.” Andrea started out of college as a journalist and now writes independent pieces for various online news reporting agencies.

  “Good for you. Steady work is all that matters.”

  Her mouth contorts into a grimace. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to contribute more for Mom’s care.”

  I glance out the window, hoping we can find a place to park. “We’re getting by fine. Don’t worry so much.”

  “You say that… but you’re the only one sacrificing your dreams. It just kills me.”

  “If music paid the bills I’d be happier, sure, but I’ll get back to it eventually. This accounting gig isn’t permanent.” I motion out the window. “There’s a spot, grab it.”

  My sister maneuvers her old Honda into the tight parking space. “It certainly seems like it after two years. I don’t know what we would have done if we had to pay the medical bills on what I make as a writer.” She looks at me and smiles, “Probably have to start consolidating expenses, like moving in together.”

  A shudder runs through me at the thought of living with my perpetually messy twin. “Hey, now, let’s not get hasty.”

  She laughs as we exit the car. “Wouldn’t want me to cramp your musician lifestyle?”

  I think of Rocko standing at his doorway last month, a mid-twenties bar groupie hanging on his tattooed arm while he tried to give the woman the polite shove off the morning after a gig. Do I miss the one-night stands? I shake my head while joining my sister on the sidewalk. I outgrew those empty encounters years ago.

  “Not at all. More worried your slovenly habits would push me to kill you in your sleep.” She shoves me hard, laughing the whole time. “Let’s go inside,” I say, motioning to the closest restaurant. “I’m hungry.”

  Chapter Nine

  Carla

  Andy wasn’t at work today. I tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what I should do and how I should approach him, only to find the effort was all in vain. I’m curious why he’s out of the office, but still uncertain on how to act. If I text him, he’ll think I care and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to open that can of worms again.

  But you are starting to care, you idjit. The passion he stirred in you last night was explosive.

  I squirm in my chair, unable to deny how exciting our escapade in the storage room was. Where did he learn to do that? Does he spank women all the time? Damn, it was hot. Probably the wildest thing I’ve done in my life and I thought I was pretty damn wild already.

  Screwing lots of men doesn’t make you wild. It makes you easy.

  Freakin’ hell. Is that what I’ve done? Slept with a lot of men with nothing to show for it? No mind-blowing orgasms, no satisfied sleep, no fond memories of men I’d like to encounter again? Damn, I really have made a mess of my life.

  I’m grateful Heather agreed to dinner after work. I need someone sane to talk to. I’m all over the place with what I want and I’ve never been so confused in my entire life. Last night sho
cked the hell out of me. I loved it. Every exhilarating second of it—but what does it mean?

  Am I ready for more? Do I want something beyond casual sex? The dampness in my panties seems to be screaming, “Yes, you stupid bitch, you do.”

  I pack up at the end of the day to meet Heather, giving a rueful glance toward Andy’s cube. I wonder where he is.

  *****

  “It sounds like a ‘unique’ experience to say the least,” Heather says, a sparkle of knowledge glowing in her dark eyes. “And, dare I say it sounds like he wants more from you than a one night stand.”

  I glance down at my hands twisting in my lap. “But that’s the problem. I don’t know if I want more.”

  “Why not? Didn’t we talk about this the other day? At least giving him a shot takes the ‘casual sex’ and ‘friends with benefits’ listings off the table.”

  My frustration comes out in a huff. “Heather, you talked about your damn list the other day, I didn’t agree to anything. I like my life the way it is. Uncomplicated and alone. Alone doesn’t always equate to lonely, you know.”

  “I think thou dost protest too much, my lady.” At my deadpan expression, she shakes her head and continues, “What the hell are you really running from, Carla? Have you ever stopped to figure that out?”

  Shock sets my skin to tingle. I’m not running from anything, am I? A flash back to last Saturday with my mother snaps into my mind. A sigh escapes and I slump in the chair. “The visit with my mom really sucked the life right out of me. She’s such an unhappy person.”

  “Whoa. Where did that come from?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “We were talking about you and Andy and then you jump subjects to your mom.”

  “No, I didn’t. You said…” my voice trails off as I see the truth in her words. I did leap from one topic to the next. Damn, I hate how the mind works behind the scenes on crap we don’t want to face. Tears form in my eyes and I blink to rid them of the extra moisture. “Ugh. I really hate talking about this shit.”