And the thought of it…
“I do.”
But neither of us said a word. I think Satan knew exactly what he was doing and was happy to let the words settle into my head. There was flirting and dancing around the subject, and then there was just blurting it out.
On some, like the guy from the club, it would have sounded awkward at best, creepy and rapey at worst. Off Satan, though? It was in character for being brutally honest.
I just reminded myself that I had to get a story out of him. And that if anything happened, I needed to keep it quiet.When something happens, maybe?
“Come on,” Satan said. “You gonna eat that or admire it?”
I looked down at my sandwich, still only about halfway eaten. Satan, meanwhile, had somehow destroyed his in the same time despite speaking far more than I had.
“OK, OK,” I said, feeling very rushed despite probably only having a couple hundred calories worth of food leftover.
I hurried to eat my food as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast compared to the man across from me. He gave me a few sarcastic remarks as he did, which of course made me eat slower as I tried not to laugh. Finally, I finished, and Satan grabbed my wrapper, threw it out for me, and then walked me out.
“Where are we going?” I said as he held my hand. What a grip he had.
“You’ll see,” he said.
Moments later, I saw what he was doing.
He was taking me to his bike.
“Hop on,” he said.
I froze.
I knew that this would do to me. My sister had talked enough about the physical sensation of riding a bike and how your arms wrapped around the man’s chest was a turn-on. It was like the equivalent of Viagra for dudes, just instantly spiking arousal.
If you had an attraction to the guy, it was the best thing in the world and made for some great sex. If you weren’t, though, it led to a lot of regrets.
And if you were trying to maintain some standards of dignity in light of the fact that this was still a professional job…
“I…I’m not sure about this, Satan.”
“What, are you scared I’m going to crash? Never have, and I’ve been riding for two decades now—many times when I shouldn’t have. Never crashed, though.”
“I know, but—”
“Didn’t you say if I was a gentleman, I’d get what I’d want?”
He sounded testy and impatient. His phone rang, but he silenced it on the spot.
“Yes, but this just seems…”
“What?”
He was getting annoyed. I was feeling flustered. I didn’t want to piss him off and lose access because I didn’t ride the bike, but I knew unless this ride lasted less than five minutes, Satan was setting me up to go further than I wanted this night.
But are you really not wanting to go further tonight? Seems to me it’s the opposite case.
“It just—”
His phone rang again. He again ignored it.
“I know what the bike can do,” I finally said, deciding to err on the side of truth. “And the bike is going to make me feel things I’m not ready to feel.”
