THIS EPISODE CONTAINS CONTENT THAT IS SEXUAL IN NATURE AND MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR MINORS. IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, PLEASE SKIP THIS ONE.
One Week Later…
This roommate search was stressing me the FUCK out! Nothing was going right, NOTHING! Not with the matches, not with the applicants — especially the applicants. They were the worst, all six of them, six whole–ass humans, and you couldn’t pay me to live with any of them — literally. First one, was an art major from ASU who, by all accounts, should’ve been a great match– no, the perfect match. I mean, she’s 23, I’m 24, she’s an artist, I’m… someone who… once identified as an artist, she even shared my love of Hot Cheetos, which aren’t nearly as popular in Atwood as they are in Colebrook, but when we met and she got to talking about how her dead guinea pig advises her on all of her creative projects — I got the fuck out of there as quickly as my feet would allow. The others weren’t any better either, with their weird requests or other questionable demands, and after a full week of nonstop fuckery, all I wanted to do was…
and the weekend couldn’t get here fast enough.
So I broke a rule — an unspoken one, but a rule still — about boundaries, personal information and other things we had no business knowing about each other, by letting Amir pick me up, this afternoon, near my apartment; a decision that under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have even been considered but with my car in Jesminder’s custody while hers was in the shop — this emergency meet up, the one that had been on my mind all week — was worthy of a little rule-breaking.
And once we made this emergency contact in the room that over the past couple of weeks, had become ‘our spot’, for like an hour, he did what he did best; making me forget all about the troubles that had dominated the past week. The roommates, the money — none of it mattered when we were together, and honestly, I could stay wrapped up in this, this feeling, in this hotel room forever — but it wasn’t over yet. I still had one more interview to go, one that I hoped would be my last, one that I needed to leave this bed to get to but that was going to be a challenge ‘cause…
I was being held hostage — confined to this room with no foreseeable way out.
See, this was our thing. We have sex, rest a while, I try to leave; he coerces me to stay, and we get lost in this room all over again, so for him, today wasn’t any different from any other day — except it was different because the future of my entire living situation depended on me getting out of here and over to Starbucks.
“Amir! Come ON!” I pleaded through uncontrollable giggles as I struggled to break free from his grasp, “I really do have to go.”
He had me pinned down underneath him; my wrists held firmly above my head and my legs, secured tightly around his waist.
He had no intentions of letting me go.
“You always got somewhere to go,” he trailed kisses from my lips down to my belly — proving my assumption correct.
“I always… mmm…” I shuddered at every brush of his lips against my flesh, “have things to do.”
He released my arms as he inched closer to his destination and my hands instinctively dropped to his head, “Like what?” he swapped his grip on my wrists for my hips, “What do you have to do?”
His questions… I heard them but chose not to answer; instead, I closed my eyes and savored these last few moments before my focus would shift from intoxicating pleasure to escaping this room.
My legs were over his shoulders and my fingers were running through his hair; I was exactly where he wanted me but, he seemed more interested in what I had going on outside this room than what was right in front of him, which was another thing that was different about today. This line of questioning — poking that boundary that we sort-of, kind-of crossed already — that was new.
“What do you have to do?” he asked again, this time with a little more authority.
His demand fell on deaf ears though ’cause I wasn’t telling him nothing but that didn’t deter him, in fact, it seemed to only encourage him to try harder.
And that’s exactly what he did but this approach… was a little more… effective…
“Tell me what you have to do, Camilla.” He bit down on my inner thigh, swirling his tongue dangerously close to the place that held the power to make me give him whatever he wanted. “Tell me what it is,” he bit down again and again and again.
I tried to fight against it — the urge to take my panties off and let him find the answers to every fucking thing he could ever want to know — but my perseverance was wearing thin. He knew that too, so he continued with the biting and the licking and the questions until I finally caved. “I have to meet someone! GOD!”
That answer — the one he wanted to know so badly — must’ve done something because he stopped with the torture and brought his face back up to mine. “You’re meeting someone?”
His face… there was so much curiosity in his eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was jealousy but… that didn’t make any sense seeing as he said he didn’t want a girlfriend and that emotion’s reserved for the girl you’re dating — not the random one you’re fucking.
“Yes,” I smirked at his inquisitive expression, “So can I get dressed now?”
He stayed in that position, face-to-face with me, like he was trying to decide what he wanted to do. His lips parted once like there was something he wanted to say but the words never left his mouth so he lifted a little, just enough for me to slide from under him, and finally let me leave the bed.
He laid across from me, watching as I got dressed. “So this person you’re meeting,” he caught up with those words that seemed to evade him so well earlier, “is a… friend?”
He was still doing it. The questions. Why was he so curious about who I was going to see?
“Nosy much?” I laughed at his clumsy attempt at getting in my business.
“Nah,” he dropped his head to disguise the hint of embarrassment on his face, “I’m just asking.”
He most definitely was not just asking but… I did need his transportation since the plan is for Jesminder to pick me up after the meetup, so I decided to give him something.
“I wouldn’t call them a friend,” I knelt down on the bed, which he took as an invitation to get me back in his arms, “maybe more like… an associate– a business associate.”
He pulled me closer, eager for the details of my afternoon activities. “What kind of business does he have?”
I smiled at how bad he was at this. His assumption that I was going to meet a guy; that I used the term ‘business associate’ to disguise the identity of this guy, that anything I could possibly have going on had to be about a guy. All this concern over this fictitious guy… maybe I was right about the jealousy thing…
I could’ve corrected him; let him know that it was actually a girl I was meeting with and that the business I mentioned was technically mine, but I didn’t because… I don’t have to. Besides, I’m sure he has a few other women in his back pocket anyway. So, I shifted the conversation back to securing my ride. “So do you think you could drop me off downtown?”
“Oh, so we done with corners?” he made fun of our earlier pickup arrangement.
There was no way I was giving him the opportunity to find out whether or not his suspicions were valid. The corner closest to Starbucks will have to do.
“More like trading one corner for another.”
He caressed my lower back as he tried once again to coax more information out of me. “What’s with the corners though?”
“Corners are safe,” I ran my fingers through his hair, “in case you’re crazy or a stalker or something.”
“Stalker, huh?” he laughed as if the notion of him having issues with boundaries was illogical, “You think imma do something to you?”
Probably not — but it’s not impossible. There are a number of ways to hurt people, not all of them physical, and I wasn’t trying to get caught up in any of them — in any kind of way — so my guard was up. All the way up.
“I’m not sure yet,” I shrugged at our inability to predict the future, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see…”