GRIM:
What are you doing tonight?
He attached a photo of his skeleton mask. Clearly, he’s at Nella Notte. It’s been a few days since I saw him at The Wayside, and I haven’t heard from him at all. I haven’t reached out either. We made no promises when we left Nella Notte that it was something that was going to continue. That we had done something that would significantly change our dynamic. But still, my pulse thuds against my chest as I stare at his invitation. I sit down on my bed, my towel still wrapped around me from my shower.
ME:
I just got out of the shower. Was going to turn in for the night…
GRIM:
Could I tempt you to change those plans?
Could he tempt me? Of course. He’s tempted and fascinated me from the day we met. I have questions, though. We crossed a line that took us from acquaintances to friendly co-workers to, what? That’s the question. Even if I don’t know what our physicalinteractions mean. And I do have just a hint of guilt for hooking up with the brother of two of my friends. I also want to know who that woman from the bar was, and what she means to Gage. What I mean to Gage. With all those questions, I still only have one answer.
ME:
I’m on my way.
I pull open a drawer of my dresser, searching through my underwear, and finding a pair of emerald green cheeky cut briefs. Scalloped lace trim lines the hem over my thighs, making it look dainty and sexy. I find the matching balconette style bra with slightly sheer cups, feeling emboldened as soon as I catch sight of my reflection.
I decide to leave my face bare since I’ll be wearing the mask anyway, then tug out my scrunchie, letting my hair hang loose down my back. I round the bed, heading to my wardrobe.
Hallie rolls onto her back, stretching her limbs overhead. I smile, stopping to give her chest a little scratch before I pull open the doors of the armoire. With a sigh, I push coat hangers aside, trying to find something to wear, when my eyes land on a burgundy sundress. The straps tie over my shoulders, and the bodice laces up just above my belly button to the centre of my chest, offering an enticing lift of my cleavage. The skirt sits just above my knees with a flowy hemline, showing off my legs. I pull the dress off the rack, then look for some shoes that will further highlight my legs.
I wonder what Gage finds attractive. It’s hard to tell since it feels like every time I’m around him, there’s something new he seems to fix his gaze on. My hair, my lips, my eyes. I didn’t realise how intimate it could be to simply stare into someone’s eyes. How much truth and vulnerability could be reflected back. It’s said that eyes are the windows to the soul. From what I’ve seen, Gage has a soul that’s full of care and thoughtfulness. Protection. Longing. He has a big heart, but it’s been broken. It callsfor me to hold him. I get the impression he holds too much weight on his shoulders, and sometimes, that burden gets too heavy to carry by himself.
Perhaps, at Nella Notte, hiding behind his mask is his way of hiding from the burdens. Going to a place where they can’t find him. With that thought in mind, I’m even more eager to get to him. Maybe he needs me as that safe space, in that same way I crave the passion and intensity he offers me.
It’s nearing nine p.m. when I pull into the club. When I check in this time, I don’t hesitate to pick up a white wristband. I don’t want another member in the club to think I’m actively looking for just anyone. It’s onlyhim.
When I step through the doors to the bar area, I spot him straight away. He’s sitting in the same stool at the bar as last week, facing the door, as if waiting for me to walk in.
The closer I get, I notice the way Gage’s eyes take me in. He starts at my toes, and I’m glad I ended up wearing my favourite pair of caramel-coloured wedges. I can see his throat bob as his gaze lingers on the way the straps cross at my ankles before they travel up my legs, slow and appreciatively, before stopping at my cleavage. Last time I was here, the sounds were a mix of moody piano music and brazen moans. Tonight, they sound more blissful. Light and euphoric. When I reach the bar, I pull out the stool, ready to hop up, when Gage offers his hand to me. With a smile, I set my palm on his, and I love how rough and warm his skin feels against mine.
Without taking his eyes off me, he raises a hand, calling for a bartender’s attention.
“What can I get for you, Mr Montoya?”
I raise one eyebrow at the name, wondering how he thought of that for his disguise, but then I remember the nameIgave. The name Gage would have heard the last time we were here.Henry.It was his name, his real one. Oh my god, am I sweating?
“I need a white band, please.”
“Of course, sir.” The bartender switches Gage’s red band for a white one.
“Why did you have the red one?” I ask. I thought he invited me here for the same thing we did last time.
“I was waiting for the one person I was open to doing anything with to get here.” Now I’m sweatingandblushing.
“Would you like anything to drink?” the bartender asks.
Gage turns to me. “Anything for you, Buttercup?”
A drink can be a lovely way to settle your nerves, but a six-five, heavily tattooed hunk calling you Buttercup has a surprisingly similar effect. Stronger, even. With his undivided attention, my pussy is throbbing as anticipation builds. I’m finding myself desperate, impatient for Gage.
I shake my head slowly, and my stomach flips as his eyes grow intense with want. He reaches forward, gripping the edge of the stool, and drags me closer to him so our faces are just inches apart.
He stares at my mouth, letting his tongue peek out to run over his lip ring as if he’s imagining what it might be like to press his lips to mine. Heat spreads across my chest as I picture the same thing.
