Dragon Romance: Dragon Fire (Paranormal Shapeshifter Hero Protector Firefighter Romance) (Fantasy Shifter Werewolf BBW Pregnancy Women’s Fiction Short Stories) (22 page)

“Hmm,” Dorian said, but let the matter drop.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Daisy said, as they crossed the street.

“There’s a bar a few blocks this way,” Dorian said. “They specialize in first dates: romantic lighting and all that.”

“Is that what this is, then? A first date?”

Dorian nodded. “I think so.”

They said nothing more as they walked towards the bar. It was half-full with younger people dancing and getting way too drunk for this early on a Thursday evening. Dorian led her to a corner table and went to the bar. He returned with a couple of drinks: beer for him, vodka and coke for her. She sipped on her drink and looked across the table at him, through the flickering candle. The music played low in the background. It was not late enough yet for the thump-thump-thump that would soon take over.

“So,” Dorian said. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Everything, anything.”

So Daisy told him about her divorces, about her love of reading, about the novel she’d started work on ten years ago and had never finished, or even returned to in two years. She told him about Angela and Jessica, and then she realized she had nothing else to say. She came to an awkward halt and then sipped her drink. Dorian smiled.
Damn that smile
, she thought.
Damn that smile and the ludicrous power it is beginning to have over me.
She found herself wishing Dorian was uglier. She would feel more comfortable then.

They finished their drinks and Dorian went to get another round. That was when the other man walked into the bar. Right away Daisy could tell he was not part of the crowd of the bar. He was tall and muscular, like Dorian, but unlike Dorian he seemed to care little for his appearance. His black beard was thick and bushy, and his black hair hung around his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a caveman. He wore sweatpants and a white t-shirt with beat-up trainers. Daisy would usually disregard a man who dressed like that, but he had the rugged caveman thing working for him, and it seemed to fit.

It was several moments before Daisy realized he was walking towards
her
table. He slumped down in Dorian’s seat. “Excuse me,” Daisy said, voice shaking for some reason unknown even to herself.
Yeah right
, an inner-voice said. The man did not even look up. “Excuse me,” Daisy said. “That seat is taken.”

Dorian returned with the drinks—with
three
drinks. He placed a beer in front of the new man and handed Daisy the vodka and coke. “I see you’re being friendly,” he said to the man, as he sat down in a different seat.

“I’m here,” the man said. His voice was the deepest voice Daisy had ever heard.

“And what do you think?”

To Daisy’s horror, the man turned and looked at her with appraising eyes, his eyes wondering over her body, her face. She saw that he had the same ice-blue eyes as Dorian. “Good,” the man said gruffly, and then downed half his drink in one gulp. He wiped the suds from his beard with the back of his hand.

“Dorian,” Daisy said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “What the hell is going on? I’m about five seconds from leaving.”

“This is my friend,” Dorian said. “Tooth.”

“Tooth?” Daisy laughed. “What sort of name is that?”

Tooth turned to her. “It is my name,” he said.

“I thought he could join us,” Dorian said.

“So this isn’t a date,” Daisy said.

“It is,” Dorian said, “just with all three of us.”

Daisy’s mouth fell open. She wasn’t—she couldn’t—she
wouldn’t
… She was not
that
kind of woman. She saw herself walking out of the bar away from these men and filing a complaint in work and never talking to either of them again. And then she opened her eyes – when had she closed them? – and she was still at the table, sitting across from the men. “What is this?” Daisy said.

“I thought you might enjoy the pleasure of both of us,” Dorian said. “I asked Tooth here if he was willing. He said he’d come but if he didn’t like the look of you he’d walk out. He’s sitting, which for him is about as polite as it gets.”

“I don’t—” began Daisy, but stopped. She was lost for words. She sipped her drink, then sipped some more. This was too
strange
, too messed up. Men didn’t just bring another man to a date. It was just too bizarre. And yet still she was sitting there, unmoving, and staring at these men. She knew that she should walk out, should retain her dignity while she still had it. And then she started questioning if it really was a question of dignity or—or what? Was she feeling this way – frightened, excited, dirty – because society had told her that girls who went on dates with two guys were cheap? After all, if she had been a man sitting with two women, would he not be a
stud
?

“I’d like another drink,” she said.

“I’ll get it,” Tooth said, in his deep voice.

He moved with animal-like fluidity, as though every movement was a carefully rehearsed set piece. Dorian smiled at her when Tooth was at the bar. “I have frightened you,” Dorian said.

“A little,” Daisy said. “Why couldn’t you just be upfront about it, if you wanted—this? And you need to know, whatever you think is happening tonight, I’m not, um,
doing it
with both of you. I’m happy to sit here and enjoy some drinks and conversation, but I’m not fucking the two of you. I’m not some ditzy college girl.”

“That’s fine,” Dorian said. “We wouldn’t be sitting here if you would do that straightaway, anyway.”

Tooth returned with the drinks and Daisy was about to sip hers before a thought occurred to her. She handed Dorian her drink and told him to take a sip. “You really think we’re that sort?” he said.

“I don’t
know
what sort you are,” Daisy said, adamant. “Take a sip of the drink, please.”

Dorian sipped one-quarter of the drink and then handed it back to her. Then he put his hand to his head. “Wooo!” he said. “I’m feeling groggy.” He collapsed onto the table, and then began to laugh. Tooth smiled. Daisy looked at them both, bemused, and then – she couldn’t stop herself – began to laugh with them.

“So,” she said, “why do they call you Tooth?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Tooth said. He showed her a pendant he was wearing around his neck: a large canine tooth. “I carry this around with me. That’s all.”

“As you can probably guess, Tooth isn’t exactly the talkative type.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said. “I see that.”

They spent the rest of the evening like that: making awkward, stilted conversation. Daisy didn’t know why she stayed. But she couldn’t stop sweet, sick thoughts invading her mind. She thought about Tooth, and what an animal he must be—
but no, you’re not that sort of girl, remember? You can’t think things like that.
And then she started thinking about with one of them would be better at licking her out, and which one had the bigger cock, and which one, which one—
oh, the perversity!

They didn’t ask her to come home with them, which was a good thing. She hadn’t gotten laid in way too long, she decided. She was too horny and too drunk to make reasonable decisions about this sort of thing. They paid for her taxi, which was nice, and then she was in her apartment, door locked, alone and safe.

She closed her eyes; she dreamed of Dorian and Tooth.

*****

She sat in the canteen with Angela. Dorian was two tables across, but – thankfully – he didn’t come and join them. Daisy was still confused about what had happened last night: wasn’t sure it was
right
; wasn’t sure what she was, now. She didn’t know if what she had done was okay or not, and then that angered her because—who was she supposed to be convincing? It didn’t matter to her, did it? She was too confused for all of this, too confused and a little offended. The least Dorian could have done was ask her before he brought another man on the date.

She explained all this to Angela. When she was done Angela pursed her lips and nodded. “That
is
odd,” she said. “Why didn’t he just tell you? But they didn’t try anything, did they? They didn’t try to—you know?”

“No,” Daisy said. “That’s what’s confusing me. But clearly they think I’m the sort of girl who will do something like that
eventually
. And do you want to know the really messed up part, Angela? I sort of
want
to do it. They’re so sexy, and I haven’t had it in so long. But I’m scared that if I do it, and people at work find out – if anyone finds out – it will completely ruin me. The men in the office are jerks enough as it is.”

“That’s the same in every office, unfortunately,” Angela said. “I think men are just jerks everywhere.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Daisy said. “But Dorian isn’t a jerk, and this
Tooth
guy. Angela, you should see him. He looks so—wild. He looks half-animal, but in a
good
way. Usually I like men who dress well and take care of themselves.”

“Like Dorian?”

Daisy nodded. “But this Tooth guy… somehow it works on him. I don’t know how. Maybe he’s magic.”

“Ha-ha. Maybe they’re casting a spell on you right now.”

Daisy laughed. Then Dorian walked by with his tray. “Hello, Daisy,” he said.

“Hello, Dorian,” she said.

He continued towards the exit.

“Well,” Angela said. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

*****

Later that day Dorian ran into her when she was on her way to the toilet: literally
ran into
her. She was turning a corner, walking too fast, trying to get back to her desk without the boss flipping out, and he was coming the other way. She stumbled and he caught her, preventing her from collapsing face-first into the floor. (What an impression
that
would make!) He smiled as he held her in his arms.

“Careful, there,” he said.

“I’m okay,” Daisy said, disentangling herself from his arms.

He stood a foot back and regarded her with the same scrutiny with which a lion regards his kill: eyes hard, unflinching; body tensed, forward-leaning. What was worse, Daisy was finding she
liked
being looked at like that. It made her feel powerless and powerful at the same time; made her feel like she was part of something that transcended their boring office-work setting. She opened her mouth – perhaps meaning to say something witty – but nothing came out but a timid, “Thanks.”

That’s right
, she thought.
Just mutter thanks like some kind of teenage girl. Seriously, nearly-forty-year-old Daisy, what’s happened to you? Have you gone all Benjamin Button? Is that it? And that would work, wouldn’t it, because you like to boast about that fact that
it was a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald
first; and that gives you some sick sense of superiority.
She cleared her throat, and was about to nudge around Dorian when he stepped to the side, blocking her path.

“Come for a walk with me,” he said. “After work, come for a walk with me.”

“Right, so you can drug me and take me to your dungeon?”

“What do you think I am?”

“I don’t
know
what you are. That’s sort of the point. If I knew you – if I knew anything about you – I wouldn’t have to make these snarky comments. Believe me, usually I’m above that. But if a stranger tries to get me into some porn scenario—office worker tricked into threesome, or whatever depravity the internet is currently offering men—what am I supposed to do? Just accept it as the norm and say
how-do-you-do
, etc., etc.? No, no, my newfound friend, I think I’ll err on the side of over-the-top caution of this one.”

“Hmm,” Dorian said. “I don’t know what to say in the face of such verbal rapid fire.”

“Well, then…” Daisy nudged around him, and walked away, throwing a brief glance back. “Maybe you’ll just have to say nothing.”

Daisy returned to her desk with a growing sense of victory, and in her mind she imagined herself being held over a crowd of cheering people: all screaming her name; all so proud that she had rebounded Doran’s dastardly dance of devotion; all screaming
she did it, she did it, she doesn’t need him!
So why did she feel such a throb in her chest when Dorian walked past her desk and smiled at her? Was there something in that smile? Something gravitational, something magnetic, something, something—

She sighed and lost herself in the humdrum phone fun for the next few hours. When work was over Dorian approached her desk and sat down opposite her as she was cleaning away the last of her things. He laid his palms down on the desk and smiled at her. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I’m sorry if I offended you. But I promise you, I’m not trying anything sneaky. I only wondered whether, well, whether you were
curious
. And that was all. There was nothing, um,
predatory
going on. I would never do anything without your permission.”