Messalina: Devourer of Men (15 page)

            As Arnie works, Jared cradles me in his arms and we sway. Not to the music, that’s far from danceable, but in our little world.

He whispers in my ear, “Let’s make it an early night.”

            Before I can answer, Arnie is lifting his head and wiping the sweat from his brow as a result of his toil. Talley whistles as she gazes at her crotch reflected in the mirror she holds.

            “Aw-
right
,” she growls, swinging her body until both feet hit the floor. Not the slightest sign of discomfort suggested in her movements. Within seconds, she’s dressed and mussing Arnie’s mop-topped head like he’s some rascally schoolboy, much to his chagrin. She turns to us.

            “OK, you two. Let’s go rip it up!”

* * * *

            We get to a bar and it’s packed with bodies dressed in sweat but the music jams. We don’t bother stopping for drinks but push our way onto the dance floor.

            I’m surprised to find the group of people we met cruising down Elm Street: three guys and five ladies, all in their twenties. They look the same age as my students back home, but this “small” gathering of new friends doesn’t stay small for long. Other people gravitate to us, well, Talley and Jared really, getting caught up in their orbit.

            As to be expected, the women outnumber the men and soon the women attaching to Jared’s sphere threaten to turn me into a far distant satellite. A pair of buxom blondes work their way on either side of him on the dance floor.

            OK, fine. I switch into “Dance Ho” mode and make myself available to what’s left, dancing with several men. I’m not bothered. Actually, I prefer going to clubs with a group of girlfriends and then breaking off to circulate on my own. The fact that Jared’s only a foot away is no problem.

            I’m having a good time and on the verge of forgetting that I’m in a foreign state, in a foreign setting, and with complete strangers, when an arm goes around my waist and drags me off the floor. I’m about to do a roundhouse upside the person’s head until I realize it’s Jared. He’s built up a sweat and his face is pale and flushed. He looks hot, and not just in temperature.

            “I’ve been missing you, sugar.”

            “Could’ve fooled me,” I say with a smirk.

            “Jealous?” He grins, pulling me close, and his breath on my neck thrills me as he exhales onto my damp skin. His hands slide down my sweat-slicked back to clutch proprietarily at my ass. A drop of perspiration trails from behind my ear to meet his tongue and his lips suction it away. I gyrate, groove, and freak my body against his until I feel the telltale jutting of his arousal.

            He takes my left leg, hooks it around his waist, and I am up against a part of his body swollen plump from the heat. He grinds against me and I cup his face in my hands to cover his mouth with mine. Other bodies brush and bump against us, keeping us vertical.

            He breaks away from our soul kiss and when he raises his head, the strobe lighting makes his features alternate between hard and soft, light and dark. Jared looks like a god waiting to take possession of his virgin sacrifice. He’s had enough playacting.

            “Let’s say good night, Eva.” 

            Who am I to argue? When we find Talley at the bar with her new acquaintances
she
tries to argue, but Jared’s having none of it.

            “Forget it, Talley. Eva and I only have a few hours left and those hours are mine.”

            I notice some of the ladies around Talley are the same ones who got between Jared and me earlier when we arrived. I smile at them, they throw daggers with their eyes back at me.

            While the guys I met start saying and kissing me goodbye, out of the corner of my eye I catch a lady with long red hair dressed in a leather halter top and matching hot pants and sitting next to Talley, slip something into Jared’s hand. I turn my attention to them just as he looks at it.

            He smiles at the note and at the woman, then leans against the bar, putting his arm between her and Talley. I see the lady’s face light up. Time for me to close in. I tap his arm firmly, on his sore spot.

            “Ouch!” He turns around with a murderous scowl on his face, ready to smear the bastard who touched him, but when he sees me, he grins.

            “Ready to go?”

            Smiling, I nod. I also smile at the woman, who smiles back but can’t work up the sincerity. Jared moves his arm to put it around my shoulder and that’s when I notice the slip of paper on the bar.

            “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.

            When he, and she, sees what I’m referring to, he pulls me away. “It’s nothing.”

            He turns away and doesn’t see the redhead stand up, murder me with her eyes, and then move away from the bar. Her outfit gives away too much information from the way her ass cheeks spill out of her hot pants. Meanwhile, Talley breaks away from the conversation with her neighbor.

            “Let me finish this drink and I’ll take ya’ll to the hotel.”

            Jared shakes his head. “We’re getting a cab. And I suggest you get one too.”

            Talley and I look at each other. Her eyes are sad, as if she’s losing her best friend.

            “I guess this is it, Eva.” She puts down her drink and gives me a big hug before planting a vodka-soaked kiss on my lips.

            Despite my recent wild behavior, I’ve never been big on public displays of affection, even between women, but I allow it this time even though it’s a bit much. Besides, I’m going to miss her.

            “Don’t forget about me now that you know where I am.”

            “As if I could.”

            “And if J. D. gets on your nerves and needs sorting out, let me know.”

            I grin at Jared, but he rolls his eyes and pulls us apart. We slowly make our way out of the bar. Stepping outside, even the air of lower downtown Dallas smells crisp and clean after being inside a funk-filled bar. He drags me to the nearest cab.

            Luckily, the cab’s air conditioning is on full blast. We ride with the windows up and cruise out of Deep Ellum in relative quiet.

            “Did you have a good time?”

            I look at him; his face is half obscured by the darkness of the cab and the streetlights.

            “Jared,” I say with a smile, “you have no idea.”

            He takes my hand in both of his and kisses each of my knuckles. With his head bent down, it’s impossible for me to resist running my fingers through his hair.

            “You kids callin’ it a night so early?”

            What the fuck? Oh, it’s the cab driver talking. I haven’t noticed him or anyone else since my arrival in Dallas, but it’s easy for the world to be eclipsed with Jared or Talley around.

            Jared says something back to the cabbie, but damned if I know what it is. When he told Talley these are our last few hours together, the word “last” had more than a ring of finality to it. A vise clutches around my throat and threatens to squeeze the life out of me. I look at his silhouette as he leans close to talk to the cabbie and it’s hazy and blurred as if I’m looking at him from underwater. I can touch him, but soon he’ll be leagues away, miles apart.

            A lump rises in my throat. I force myself to swallow and it hurts. When I try to take a deep breath, it sounds more like a sniffle. I can’t believe I’m about to cry over this man. Why am I being affected this way? Is it because this amazing weekend is ending and Jared has treated me better than any man has in my entire life? Or maybe I pity myself as an incredible idiot for being seduced? I know nothing about him. He could have a fat fetish or a subconscious superiority complex, and making love to a black woman is a subliminal power play. Maybe he’s emotionally scarred from being in foster care and has stalker tendencies? He has
issues
—then again, who doesn’t? But none of these reasons jibe with a man who’s shown me nothing but kindness, generosity, and romance at a level I never thought possible and I’m ashamed of my cynicism.

Jared turns his head to me and I see his lips move, but can’t hear. He moves again and this time the shadow cuts his face down the middle, much like the shadow he drew across my face at the theater. His face holds no expression but his eyes say it all. He’s not playing, he’s not being coy. His gaze locks me in place.

            He pulls me in for a kiss and the tip of his tongue gently taps on the barrier of my teeth, unassuming, asking to be let in. I allow him complete access and he moans. Our kiss lasts the distance from Deep Ellum to the hotel, but it feels like seconds because soon the cabbie tells us our journey is at an end.

            We make out all the way back to the suite, holding hands like young lovers, which is appropriate, I guess, but this feels different. We’re not pawing and clawing each other in a frenzy to get our clothes off. We don’t speak at all. In the elevator, I steal a glance at him. He’s looking at the floor.

            “Jared?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Tired?”

            His embrace tells me he has enough energy to do what he wants to do. I inhale his scent of cologne, smoke, sweat, bodies, and heat that records our evening out and as I exhale, his arms constrict around me, molding my body to his. The elevator doors open and he quickly kisses my forehead before stepping out.

            Inside the suite, our bed has been turned down and the little lamp on the bedside table is lit, casting a nice, cozy circle of light on and around the bed. He positions me just inside of that warm ring. He peels my dress straps off my shoulder and lets the dress float down into a sheer mass at my feet. The strapless bra is no obstacle as he removes it with finesse and with one hand.

            My eyes never leave his as he slowly strips away layer after layer until I stand completely nude. He steps back. Being nude before him doesn’t make me uncomfortable anymore, but it’s the way he looks at me, as if in appraisal that’s unnerving and I force myself to keep from trembling.

            He walks around me, his eyes stroking here, caressing there, and raising little goose bumps along the way. I hold my breath and finally, after circling me three times, he stands in front of me again.

            “I want to remember you as you are now. Silent.” He moves near. “Vulnerable.” His hand reaches out and his palm brushes against my right nipple, coaxing it to attention. “Mine.”

            Blood rushes from my head, making me lightheaded, but he turns and walks into the bathroom. I hear water running. When he returns, I can’t see what he holds and I’m afraid to ask, fearing that speaking will break the spell. He gently—almost reverently—kisses me on the shoulder and gets behind me.

            I feel it before I see it. A cool, damp washcloth slides down my back from my shoulders to the base of my spine and I sigh. Not stopping there, he kneels and strokes down the side of my thighs. Turning my head, I see him get down on his knees, holding a tiny bottle in his mouth. Then he fills his palm with a liquid and I smell the light scent of baby oil. His hands smooth up from my ankles and between my legs. Up my left leg and down my left leg, then up my right leg and down again. He does this once, twice, each time getting closer and closer to my narrow passages, front and rear.

            The third time is the charm.

            Jared’s fingers slip inside me as another gently caresses the sensitive door to my other secret entrance.

            “Oh . . . my . . . God.”

            My legs start to buckle but I force myself to keep balanced. He grasps my hip with his free hand and clamps his mouth just above my left buttock.

            “Mmm,” he groans, giving me another hard nip before moving around to the front. He gently kisses my bandaged hip before he buries his face between my legs. I stroke the top of his head as he uses both hands to help make access for his tongue. For several minutes, muffled sounds of contentment come from below my waist until he rips himself away, picks up the bottle of oil, and resumes slicking me up. Over my stomach and up my chest his hands go until they reach my breasts. By the time he stands on his feet, his breathing is quick and ragged compared to me trying to breathe again. He strips, quickly, his eyes lock onto mine, his nostrils flared as if preparing himself for his greatest battle. This is our grand finale.

            We fall onto the bed. I straddle him, guide him into me, and apply some hip movements a dancer friend of mine taught me.

            “Ah! That’s m’girl! Ride it!”

            I’m working to make the Rough Riders proud in an effort to burn off a fraction of the heat and passion I have for this man. It doesn’t take long for his body to get as oil-slicked as mine. To keep from slipping out of each other’s grasp, we cling to each other. Fingernails and bandages be damned, we’ll both be mauled come morning.

I can only imagine how the back of my hips will look with four, small, half-moon indents from where Jared insures I stay clamped onto him, or the couple dozen tracks running the length and breadth of his back. As I ride on toward my next orgasm, I see it before me, the Road to Nirvana.