JEREMY’S KISS PUSHES for more, his hips pressing me against the door, his hands pulling my wrists down slightly, causing my chest to arch into his, my head to come back, my mouth to break from his for a moment. When his lips return, they are soft, barely brushing across my mouth, a tease that I need more of, and he pushes forward and deepens the kiss, my mouth greedy in its response. I am restrained, his hard leg between mine, my dress pushed up, the rough feel of his jeans rubbing a delicious friction against my thin panties. A small sound escapes my lips and it breaks him, his left hand taking over my wrists, wrapping them both in his strong grip, his right running smoothly up my leg, slipping under my dress and moving upward till it hits my hip.
I struggle against his restraint, wanting to run my hands through his hair, lift up his shirt, travel over the lines of his abs, dip my hands under the waist of his jeans, and feel the heat of his bare skin under my palms. His thumb rubs a delicious pattern on my inner thigh, and I lift my leg higher, wrapping it around his body and gripping him to me. His mouth is perfect, not too pushy, taking his time and enjoying my mouth while turning every knob on my body to full-fledged arousal. Then he withdraws, gives me one soft brush of his lips before releasing my hands and stepping back, my leg arguing, pulling at him before giving up and joining my other, my body slumped against the door, my eyes on Jeremy, questions pushing at my mouth but none yet spilling out.
“Good night.”
“Good night?” I sputter. This is unexpected. My ego may be overinflated from webcam chats with fifty-year-old men and confused transvestites, but I’m used to being sought after, ten hours of my day spent virtually between the sheets with strangers. Now, with a flesh-and-blood man in front of me… I get a kiss and a “good night.”
He glances at his watch. “You told me to have you inside by seven.”
The elevator picks that time to groan, a loud rumble that will turn into a screech, the laborious journey just noisy enough to make its occupants wonder if this will be the trip that doesn’t take, if this will be the moment that it settles into place and says “Fuck you, I’m not moving another foot.” It does make the climb, and I tense as I watch the doors open. Another view I have never seen. This long hall, and the motion of the doors. I’ve heard them a thousand times, always envisioned the bodies that step off, the looks on their faces, the scent of their skin. A figure shuffles off, and I feel a moment of recognition at the scrawny build, previous sightings distorted by my peephole. A pale hand swipes at short dark hair, the man shifting the backpack higher as he glances at us from down the hall.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” he calls out, his voice bouncing off filthy walls as he moves closer. “She won’t open that door.”
I smile at the voice, non-muffled without the door between us, and glance at Jeremy to see if he understands the man’s comment. His face surprises me. Tense, his back leaving the wall, his posture stiff as he straightens. I have forgotten that he knows Simon, that they have bitched countless times over the package of pills that he delivers monthly.
Simon pauses, a hitch in his step, when he is ten feet away, his eyes warily recognizing Jeremy. “Oh. Hey, man.”
Jeremy says nothing, nodding at him in acknowledgment of the greeting.
The druggie’s gaze jumps left, and stares me up and down, his eyes taking their time. “What—delivery boy bring you to see the freak show?” he cackles. “I’ve got stuff a lot more exciting in my place. If you want…” He steps closer, smiling, and I see Jeremy’s fists clench.
I smile brightly, using the young innocent smile, the one that my clients love, the one that dissolves all tension and puts them all at ease. He moves closer and I jump into action, bringing my knee up quickly, into the soft flesh between his sweatpanted legs, the hard impact causing his eyes to tightly close, his torso doubling over as all air leaves his chest in one brittle exhale. He wheezes and I bring my forearm up, under his chin, and press hard, pushing him back against the wall, my four-inch heels putting us at eye level with each other. “Hi Simon,” I drawl, watching his eyes jump to mine, a hesitant recognition at my voice in their red-rimmed depths. “Welcome to the freak show.”