Ollie opens his eyes, catching my stare. He looks beautiful, swinging his body to the music. He moves like he was born for this. He moves to the edge of the dance floor, holding his hands out to me.
“Dance with me, Freddy.”
I give him a smile and shake my head. Ollie pouts, coming closer. He grabs my hand and I feel like my body is on fire at the simple touch.
“Just this once? For me?”
“I don’t dance, you know that.”
~~~~~
The alcohol is starting to hit my system when I see her. She’s on the dance floor, her little green dress fluttering around her. I watch her sway her hips to the music, arms moving in the air above her head, copper hair framing her face in sheets. I lean forward, drink in one hand, playing with my necklace with the other. The movement comes easy to her, that’s obvious. She looks graceful. She seems to feel me staring because her eyes fly open and she finds mine easily. She smirks and swings her way toward the edge of the dance floor, singing along.
I don’t usually go out this late at night
To the place where animals go
But baby I’m here and I’m watching you move
There’s just one thing you should know
She holds out a hand to me, motioning with her finger, telling me to join her. I give the slightest shake of my head. She comes to me. She takes the drink out of my hand and sets it on the table, then puts her hand on my shoulder, pushing me back in the chair. She moves behind me, trailing her fingers along the exposed skin of my chest. Her body sways side to side and she lean over me, singing in my ear.
Girl you are my fire
Only true desire
Swear I’m not a liar, you should dance with me
You should get to know me
Kick it with the harmonies
Let go of your worries, you should dance with me.
She clasps my hands in front of my chest, still moving her hips to the music. She hums as she dances, only pausing when I reach up to grasp her arm. She shifts so that our fingers are interlaced and moves in front of me She tugs on my arm, crooning:
Dance with me
Dance with me
I let out a little sigh as I get up, a faint smile crossing my lips as she squeals. I let her drag me to the dance floor and turn to face me, watching as the lights and shadows play over her body. She reaches up to brush the hair off my forehead. I grab her wrist and place it on my shoulder instead. She grins, clasping her hands behind my neck. She closes her eyes and lets the music move her. I slowly lower my head toward her, closing the space between us. She runs a finger along my jaw without opening her eyes and it catches on the stubble I haven’t shaved away. I knot a hand gently in her hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers. I tilt her head up until our noses touch and I can feel her breath mingling with mine. I move her head a centimeter more until our mouths are level. My lips curls in a smile as I let them brush against hers. She manages to release a moan that sounds both elegant and erotic and I can feel my body twitch to the sound of it. I spin her around, wrapping my arm around her stomach and crushing her back into my chest.
I don’t usually go out this late at night
To the place where animals go
But baby I’m here and I’m watching you move
There’s just one thing you should know
My fingers ride up her sides as she moves to the beat. She presses back, my frame supporting her. She reaches her arms behind her to clasp around my neck again and I lower my head, my lips skimming over that area between her neck and shoulder. She hums with pleasure as she dancing against me. She leans her head back, giving me more access.
Girl you are my fire
Only true desire
Swear I’m not a liar, you should dance with me
You should get to know me
Kick it with the harmonies
Let go of your worries, you should dance with me.
She whimpers when I move away, but I just grab her hand, taking her off the floor. I take back my seat, dragging her onto my lap. I hold her in place with one hand on her back, one on her bare thigh, her dress riding dangerously high. She bunches her fingers in my shirt while I stare her with primal desire. She leans over me and I lick my lips, looking between her eyes and mouth. She flips her hair to the side and I use the opportunity to surge forward and bury my face in her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the sensitive skin. She sighs in response, twisting her fingers in my hair. I lift my head and catch her lips. It’s just a kiss of need but that doesn’t make it any less passionate. I can taste the rum on her breath. I slide my hand up her leg, her bare skin prickling under my fingers. Suddenly she pulls away and latches a hand onto my arm.
“If you’re going any farther, you’re going to have to take me home.”
~~~~~
This is not a night for passionate love making. It’s a rough and heavy moment between two needy individuals. We barely make it through the door before we’re kissing again. I push her against a wall, nuzzling her neck. She cries out as I nip at her skin, tugging my jacket off with quickly growing fervor. I hoist her into the air, her legs wrap around my waist, and I carry her down the hallway. When I put her down, she immediately starts pulling off her dress. The black scraps of lace underneath do nothing to cover her assets. I move in to kiss her but she holds up a finger, a playful smirk slashing her face. She points at me saying,
“Your turn.”
I grab the back of my white shirt, tugging it over my head and letting it slip from my fingers. I’m not exactly toned, but I’m fit enough. She seems to agree because she comes forward to runs her hands down my chest and stomach. She can feel me through my pants and she smiles wickedly as she unbuttons them. They drop to the ground and she falls to her knees in front of me. I inhale sharply as she takes me in her mouth right away, one hand holding me in place. The hot feel of her makes me shiver. I place a hand on the back of her head as she moves, groaning as she works faster.
I stop her before I lose it. She stands up and looks at me, eyes dark and heavy with lust. I kiss her roughly, pushing her to the bed, removing her underwear along the way. She sprawls on the bed, stretching her arms above her head, arching her back and pushing her breasts up. I reach down to slide an arm around her, lowering my head to her already peaked nipples, grazing them with my teeth She squirms under me. I reach a hand between her legs, feeling that she’s wet and ready. Barely any foreplay needed. Good. I slip a finger in and she bucks her hips against my hand. I use my thumb to flick her sensitive spot and her breath comes out faster. I position myself between her legs, holding myself at her entrance, teasing her. I growl appreciatively as she whispers,
“Please.”
I plunge in all the way and she shrieks. It gives way to a moan of pleasure as I move inside her, pulling out and shoving back in. After a moment, I flip her on top, hands grasping her hips. She moves in circles along my length and it feels heavenly. It doesn’t take long for her to find her edge, and when she clamps around me, I follow soon after.
When she climbs off me, she says something, but I don’t hear it. I finally let the fog of the alcohol take over. I close my eyes and everything goes black.
~~~~~
I wake up because I can’t feel my arm. I open my eyes blearily, the morning sun filtering through the shades like knives on my senses. I lift my head from the pillow to look at the girl. She’s nestled right in the crook of my elbow, auburn hair splayed out. I’ve got my other arm draped over her stomach, feeling her lithe, naked body under my fingers. I blink away the image of her writhing on top of me last night. I carefully disentangle myself from her.
My head is already pounding. I stumble from the bed to get meds from the bathroom, hoping to stem this hangover quickly. I look in the mirror, a pallid face looking back at me. My eyes, once bright blue, are dull. My cheekbones and jaw stick out sharply. It must be attractive because I’ve had girls throwing themselves at me for weeks. Apparently “Pained and Suffering Artist” is the new hot thing.
I scowl at my reflection. I took it too far last night, I chide myself. It’s always the same - I go a few drinks past my breaking point and I end up waking up with someone in my bed. She’s the first one since I’ve come to London though, which is a record for me.
I jostle her awake, probably not as gently as I should have. She moans, her brown eyes opening slowly. I do admit, she is an attractive creature. Her hair frames her round face nicely and I get the impression her eyes are kind when they’re not screwed up in agony. I hand her a couple of pills and a glass of water.
“Morning,” I say gruffly.
She smiles at me, a gentle thing. “Good morning.” Despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitch up. I find I like her velvet voice.
“D’you want breakfast?”
She looks surprised at the question. She nods blankly. I pull on my clothes quickly, throwing her dress at her and leaving her to get out of bed in her own time.
I’m already sitting at the table when she eventually comes out to the kitchen. She’s got her purse hanging off her shoulder and she’s pulled her hair into a messy bun at the base of her neck, a few strands falling loose already. She’s a conventional beauty.
“That smells lovely,” she says, taking the seat across from me.
I push the plate towards her. “Do you want tea?”
“I’m more of a coffee person.”
I set about making a pot of coffee while she finishes the rest of the crepes. I lean against the counter, running a hand through my hair. I sigh through my nose as the craving for a cigarette passes through me. I haven’t had one since before I started this mess with this girl and my body can feel it.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“My name’s Fancy, by the way.”
I close my eyes. I try to avoid exchanging names with the people I bring to bed. It makes it more personal than it needs to be. What’s the point of knowing the name of a person I’ll never see again? I don’t answer her. She’s not to be deterred though.
“Do you often make breakfast for your one-night stands?”
I turn to face her, crossing my arms. “I don’t usually bring them to the place I’m staying.”
“Oh, am I special?”
“If it makes you feel better.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re grumpy.”
“I’m not used to having to talk to people in the morning.” I pour her coffee and place the cup in front of her. “And I’ve usually had a smoke by now.”
She rummages in her purse and pulls out a pack. She hands one to me. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I wait a moment to see if she’s joking. She just raises an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me. The decent part of me fights with the craving. I’ve grown so used to keeping my cigarette smoke away from people, seeing as they don’t like it. She obviously wouldn’t mind, but it would be better to hold out and wait till she left. I could probably do it. But I can feel my fingers tingling with the need and my body wins out in the end. I take the cigarette, our fingers brushing. I hold it between my lips as she lights it for me and as I breathe in the smoke, I can physically feel my body relaxing. God, I hate this addiction.
“So,” Fancy says around another mouthful of food. “What do I call you?”
I look out the window, smirking. “Your one-night stand.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” she starts to say. I freeze. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, wary.
“I’m not interested in anything serious, if I haven’t made that obvious,” I tell her abruptly. I wince at the rudeness. I never used to be like this.
“I’ll be in the area for another day,” she continues, blinking. “If you’re interested, we can see each other again. Cuts out the work of trying to find someone new at a club every night.”
She’s got a point. I chew on my lip, thinking about it. It had been good sex last night and I wonder if changing my habits would be worth her mouth on me again. She slips me a business card in my silence.
“Think on it,” she says, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I can hear the front door open and shut as she leaves. I take another drag from the cigarette, picking up the card. It’s thick ivory piece of paper with her name in bold letters in the center.
Fancy Atkinson
Court Interpreter
Document Translator
01865 436721
So she’s from Oxford. This is a little far to go for a club and a fuck. Finishing the cigarette, I drop the card.
I gather up the empty plate, putting it in the sink to wash later. I shuffle back to the bedroom, picking up my jacket off the floor where we had let it fall last night. I throw it into the closet, not bothering to hang it up, and flop onto the bed. I can still smell Fancy on the sheets. I should wash them. I pull the covers over my head instead, drowning out the morning sun. I’m not actually tired, but I can’t think of anything else I want to do. I let sleep drag me under.
When I wake up, it’s almost dark. I drag myself from under the sheets, forcing myself into the bathroom for a shower. The water soothes the aching in my muscles. I lean my head back into the stream, letting it massage my scalp. When I go to wipe my face, I can’t help but catch sight of my arms. I grimace as I look at them. The wounds are mostly scarred over now. I’d been wearing long sleeves for so long I almost forgot they were there. Almost.
I get out of the shower, the air cold enough to cover me in goosebumps. I get dressed and light another cigarette, walking around the house aimlessly. I end up in the kitchen and see the card still sitting on the table. I walk over, staring down at it. A chuckle escapes my throat. The other girls I’ve brought home understand that, even if I treat them nice the morning afterward, I still didn’t want to see them again. This Fancy woman has balls, I’ll give her that.
I opt to stay in for the night, opening my laptop and working on some of my sorely neglected projects. Her card keeps drawing my eye, taunting me. I flip it over and push it to the other side of the table. I don’t need to see her again. When I’m in the mood, I’ll find some other hapless lover. All I had to do was twist my lip the right way and crook my finger and I had girls begging to sit in my lap. I’d been exercising the gift more frequently in recent months. So I’d find someone else.
I work until the clock reads 2:30 and then crawl back into bed. I sleep until midafternoon the next day, doing the same thing all over again. I stare at the screen, but I’m not seeing the pictures.
I think about Fancy’s tongue licking me, and the feel of her moving under my hands. I wonder what she tastes like and wish I had gotten the chance to try. I slam my laptop shut. Fuck, she’s just another girl. There’s nothing special about her and it’s not like sex was mind-blowingly unique, so why can’t I stop thinking about her? I probably haven’t crossed her mind once, just another body for her to count.
It’s because she told me her name, I reason. She made it too personal. I hate it. I didn’t care about names. I haven’t since Greece, five years ago.
By the third day, I’m mental. Around eleven at night, I finally flip over the card and dial the number. It rings twice before she answers.
“Fancy Atkinson, how may I help you?” She sounds professional, put together. I can picture her in a business suit, her hair up in a bun, a pen sticking out of it. Immediately, I imagine undressing her. I chew my lip.
“Hello?”
“I thought about it,” I say simply.
There’s a pause and then she makes a noise that sounds like a purr. “Oh, it’s you.” Instantly, her voice changes from businesswoman to a phone sex operator, silky and smooth. “I was disappointed you didn’t call sooner.”
“Well I’m calling now.”
“But I’m already back in Oxford.” I ignore the jab of disappointment that comes with the sentence. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. Keep your bed open for me.”
Her voice caresses my ear long after she’s hung up. I sit there for another ten minutes before making a decision. She was just another girl, nothing special. I could find a hundred like her within an hour. So I change my shirt for a patterned button down and leave for The Lux. I order drink after drink until things get blurry around the edges. I turn from the bar with my fifth one when a woman bumps into me.
“Sorry,” she says, even as she presses her breasts into my chest. My drink spills on her, glistening on her sizable cleavage and down the front of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to notice. Her green eyes peer at me through dark lashes, her equally dark hair tucked behind her ears. I hurriedly put down my drink.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get you out of those.”
I take her in the bathroom stall, a new low point for me. I have to cover her mouth to keep her from being too loud. I close my eyes for a second and when I open them again, I see Fancy staring back, a wicked gleam in her brown eyes. I speed up, feeling my edge coming faster at the sight of her. I finish inside of her, leaning down to rest my head on her shoulder. When I pull away, it’s not Fancy anymore, but the black haired girl yelling furiously at me.
“What the fuck!” she’s screaming. She cleans herself up and then storms out of the stall. I follow soon after, ignoring the interested gazes of the other women in the bathroom. I head home, looking forward to my bed, but when I get there, I find myself utterly dissatisfied. I twist in my bed, unable to find a comfortable position. Finally I just lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.
There’s only ever been one person whose very face made me lose it like that and I haven’t seen him in five years except in pictures. He had messaged me a few months ago and I had called him. He had invited me to visit him, but he had also been piss drunk at the time. I wonder what would have happened if I had packed up my bags and gone to him when he had asked. Would we be the same as we’d always been? Unlikely. Five years is a long time to harbor resentment. I was afraid that’s exactly what he had for me. How could he feel anything else? So instead of going there, I had buried myself in work and girls for the past three months, hating myself with every passing minute. I knew I was spiraling out of control, but anytime I wasn’t working, drinking, or fucking, I was thinking about him and the way we used to be. And that was unacceptable.
Rubbing my eyes to get rid of the image of him, I roll over and grab my phone, opening to that number I had called earlier. I start a text to her.
Can you come sooner?
I don’t get a response until the following morning.
Impatient.
I snort at the short message. I send back, Are you going to make me beg?
Oh that does sound lovely.
I don’t answer that and she doesn’t say anything else. I spend the day working on my projects, lounging in shorts and a tee for once. I’m about to head back to bed when I hear a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone so I’m a bit wary as I open the door.
She stands there in in a grey dress that hugs her every curve. Her auburn hair is gathered over one shoulder, her eyes bright as they look at me.
“I came up here for you, specifically,” she says to me, stepping over the threshold. She reaches a hand around my neck. “I deserve a present.”
“Is fucking me not enough?”
She grins, pulling my face towards hers. I lean in to kiss her but she pulls back a smidge. “What’s your name?”
I yank her hand down, pin her arms to her side and push her against the door. I don’t care if the whole neighborhood sees us. I kiss her roughly. I can tell she wants to resist, but after a heartbeat, she melts into my lips, opening her mouth to me. I shove my way in, touching every surface - the roof of her mouth, her cheeks, her tongue. She moans pathetically as I let go of her wrists and cup her face. Her hands go up my back and then she digs her nails in, clawing me through the shirt. I jerk my head back. She moves with me, peppering my neck with kisses. I let her do it until she reaches a ticklish spot and then I make her stop, pushing her against the door again. I place a hand above her head and lean in.
“Freddy,” I say huskily. “My name is Freddy.”
“Well, Freddy,” she says, reaching a hand down to grab the front of my pants. I gasp at the touch. “Looks like you’re ready for me.”