It was 2015; the end of the 4th of July weekend spent in San Diego and on Coronado Island. In the back seat of the car, headphones in and listening to Major Lazer while my parents talked in the front seat, I started writing something on my phone. I can’t remember why. It turned out to be really predictable erotica that makes me a little cringey.

I hadn’t had sex in years, literal years. And I hadn’t had good sex in forever. I just had this idea of what it could be. Definitely not something I’d share with anyone for fear of being judged.

When I finished typing it out in the tiny iPhone 5 keyboard, I sent it to Michael and he approved.

I created it out of thin air and based it partially on experiences I’d had when I was 16 and 17. Two years later I’d meet the 🦄 and he fit the role like I’d cut him from a pattern.

Funny thing is, it still reads as true as I feel now. I need taboo and danger and domination and pain and pleasure and teasing and seduction. If sex were categorized as film genres, mine would be film noir. I respond to the femme fatale who maybe likes getting tossed around a bit. I like it when the guy is a little angry and conflicted.

The other night I asked V to make out. It was late and we’d been practicing Spanish. I’d drunk way too much and we had been sharing a cigarette or two. It just seemed like it would be fun.

He said no. We’ve put that issue to bed. Maybe he was afraid I’d catch feelings or was harboring them the whole time. I’m not. I’ve dealt with real emotions. What’s left is a harmless crush and some really fun make out sessions.

But we made out anyway. Maybe him being conflicted was the taboo that I wanted. It was hot because we weren’t supposed to by the terms of our own accord. I knew we weren’t going to go further and I also knew that V has a will of steel and he’s only gonna do what he wants to do. I just like provoking him every once in a while. I’m a brat.

I was so dopey I fell off the bed at one point and laughed. No harm was done to me or to our friendship. He’s just so fun to provoke and make angry and kiss. Good kissers are my jam.

The one who gets me implicitly is the Israeli. The man was born to tease and be playful with. He enjoys being dark and enigmatic as much as I love witty banter. To quote Kesha, his love is my drug.

So whatever it was that I wrote in 2015 holds true to my nature. And with that I give you, completely unrevised, my terrible fiction. Enjoy!

Chapter 17

Introduction about engagement party…

“Can you find Hector for me? I’ve been meaning to introduce him to Uncle Raul.”

I walked out of the foyer, placing my glass of Pinot Grigio on the bar in the great room and scanned the crowd for the tallest head of dark hair in the room.  When I caught his profile I took a moment to prepare myself to approach him. Previous to our unpleasant meeting at the bar the week before, all I’d know of him was what I saw in high school. He’d been arrogant and dismissive of me. Even when we served on the school board together, he never said more than two words to me together. He figured himself for one of the adults and I was beneath him. 

I started to approach him and thought I’d caught his eye when he suddenly turned his back on me and started walking away. Great, I thought. Now I have to chase him down just so I can placate my sister. The burden of being maid of honor.  

I made my way through the crowd of imbibing guests, smiling and gently moving the swaying bodies to traverse the room.  But by the time I’d gotten to the spot where I’d last seen Hector, he was gone.

I walked through the darkly lit hallway. Years of memories filled my mind of running through these dark halls as a small child, afraid of ghosts of the rich and famous Hollywood stars who’d gayly traipsed through the estate decades before.  Even in the dark I knew the lodge like the back of my hand. Hector’s father wasn’t a golfer though, and he didn’t go to any of the social events we frequented as children, so it didn’t make much sense for him to be walking in the dark this way, but it was the only place he could have disappeared to.

I felt my way down the corridor until a door knob appeared in my left hand.  It was the library. I turned the knob and stepped onto the red carpet.  It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the inky dark room. But it was my nose that first noticed him. I smelled something like apple cider and pine that I had smelled on him at the bar.

“Hector?” I called out, feeling the presence of someone near.

“Shh.” The door closed beside me.

“Wha?” I said before I felt a hand on my face covering my mouth and nose. All of a sudden I was scooted back against the door frame with my legs pressed apart by a man’s thighs. I pushed back only or be forced harder against the wall.

“You found me.” He whispered into my left ear.  “I knew you would, good girl.”

Good girl?  He hoped I’d follow him?  What was this game I had started playing? And what were the rules?

I didn’t have too much time to think before his other hand had lifted the hem of my dress and slipped into the elastic of my underwear between my legs. His fingers were wet, probably because he’d licked them. Before I knew it he was inside of me.

With my mouth covered, I tried to scream, but my body had clenched down from the fright and surprise. I was trapped.

I felt his breath on my neck and a second finger slipped in.

“I’ve been waiting for us to be alone.” He whispered. “I want you to feel everything I’ve been feeling since I saw you at the bar. I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth.  Just stay quiet.”

“Oh my go..” was all I could get out. The feeling of someone inside me was so foreign and so controlling at the same time. He had complete power over me. With what little light there was in the room, I could make out his piercing blue eyes, his nose and his lips. He was staring right at me, while his fingers cupped me, one hand grabbing at my ass through my dress and the other exploring inside of me, awakening something I thought I’d lost.

My breathing was rapid. My chest heaved. I was scared. His stare was so intense. I broke our mutual gaze and looked down at his lips. Feeling pleasure made me greedy and I wanted to do nothing more than to bite his plump lower lip. Our faces were an inch apart. I tilted my head and reached for him with my mouth. He abruptly pulled his head back, guessing what I was about to do and moved his hand from my ass to grab the back of my hair, pulling my head back against the door frame.

I looked back at his eyes. They were darting from my eyes to my lips down to where his hand was stroking me, making my muscles tighten. 

He glanced back up at my eyes.  And back to my lips.  He moved in as though to kiss me but instead just hovered his lips by mine.  

“You’re getting wet,” he whispered, staring at me intently. “Good girl.”  He lightly traced my bottom lip with his tongue, still holding my head back against the door frame, tight enough that I couldn’t move in to fully kiss him. He was teasing me and pleasuring me at the same time and I felt wild.  My feral mind broke loose and all I wanted was to have his mouth on mine. My tongue on his. But he wouldn’t let me get close. His pupils were dilated, turning his blue eyes black. 

He flicked his tongue against my upper lip and then pulled away again to look into my eyes. When he saw the desperation in them, the corners of his mouth raised into a slight but perverse smile. He took his fingers out of me and moved his hand up to my face and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”  I nodded as much as I could with my hair tightly held in his other hand. 

He looked down at my lips. I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. My legs were trembling. My heart was racing. I pushed against his biceps but I was trapped. And I liked it. I liked my hair being pulled. For the first time in too long I was feeling fluttering in my body. It was a yearning to feel something. Anything at all.

With his free hand he tilted my chin up and then pulled my hair a little tighter, moving my face up to meet his. He started kissing me. First on the left corner of my lips. Then the other corner. Again he was teasing me. And there was nothing I could do. I felt a mixture of anticipation and anger rising in me. Now.  I want this now, I thought. 

Ever so gently, he rubbed his lips against mine. They were soft. Why wouldn’t he kiss me? I wanted him to ravage me.  He’d been so aggressive just a minute ago with his hands. I couldn’t take it anymore. With one hand I grabbed the back of his head and with the other I grabbed his ass. 

“Kiss me,” I implored.

“Beg,” he said in a low full voice.

“Please.” It came out of me before I even had time to think. 

He came in close and kissed me, lips slightly apart. His tongue breached my mouth and I felt my toes curl. Our eyes were locked on each other. 

He tasted like red wine and chocolate. Satisfaction overcame me and I pulled him closer to me.  I wanted to attack him and aggressively began kissing him.  My tongue mingled with his.  

He pulled back for a second and tilted his head the other way. I thought he was going to kiss me again. But instead he bit my lower lip and pulled it slightly with his teeth. 

The mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating. 

He let go of my lip and started to kiss me again. His hand was still in my hair and mine were exploring his hard pecs and chest. I wanted to feel his body. I started pulling up his button down shirt from inside his pants.  He stopped kissing me, grabbed both my arms and said “Stop.”

“Stop?” I asked, incredulously. A moment ago his hand had been between my legs and now he wanted me to stop.

“Yes.  I’ll tell you what to do, and when to do it.” I let go of his shirt. For some reason I complied. I surrendered my will to him. I felt innately that he would lead me to feel more things that I’d never experienced. Against all logic I trusted a man I barely knew.  But he knew me so well. Better than I knew myself. 

He took my bangs and tucked them away behind my ear. Then he dug his face into my neck and began deeply kissing my neck. He pressed his body up against mine and my hard nipples pushed into his firm chest.  I felt like a caged animal released into the wild. I wanted to run free but fear was holding me back from the unknown. 

I had entered into a game. But I didn’t know the rules. All I knew was that I was the prey. And I craved an attack.

Hector bit my ear. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What?” I shouted incredulously.  I was hot and bothered and he was going to leave.

He covered my mouth again.  “Quiet,” he whispered, in a voice that was commanding and a bit frightening.  “I’ve got some business to attend to.  And I want you waiting for me.  The next time I see you, I want you dripping wet.  I want you to beg for me to finish you off.  And if you’re a good girl, I’ll do it. And more. Now I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. Calmly tell me what you wanted when you came looking for me.”

I couldn’t remember anything before I entered the room. Dopamine blocked me from thinking of anything but the pleasure I had just experienced. 

Dumbfounded and terribly turned on, I searched for words.  Finally I studdered, “Grace wants to see you.”

Hector grabbed my shoulders and moved me. He flipped the light switch on and looked in the mirror above the green velvet sofa. He adjusted his tie and stuffed his disheveled shirt back into his pants. He opened the door I had just come through, looked back at me, and leaned over and licked the tip of my nose.  Without a word, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Everything was so confusing. Hector?  That arrogant bastard who’d ignored me all through school and treated me like crap when we’d met at the bar the week before?  

In just a few minutes time he’d managed to unlock some primal yearning in me that I thought had left me when Johnny broke my heart. But that wasn’t quite right. Johnny had never made me felt this way.  Sex had been fun at first, and then routine.  But it had never been scary and controlling and hot.  I always thought we were equals in the bedroom, as in all situations. But here I had let Hector dominate me and I had surrendered. And all I could think of is how I wanted more.

Chapter 18

“Hector? Sarah asked incredulously after I recounted the basics of the previous night’s events over the phone.

“Yup!”

“Government class Hector who sat in the front of class and took notes on a legal pad?”

“Yup.”

“Hector Diaz?”

“No, the other Hector, Sarah. Yes. Hector Diaz.”

“He was in my kindergarten class, Norah.  I think he ate paste.”

“Well he wasn’t carrying a jar of Elmer’s paste with him last night, so I can’t tell you if that’s changed.”

“Hold on, I’m going to Facebook stalk him.  I need a visual. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Fine. Hurry.”

“Ok. I found his page.  Well, he’s got a nice cover photo.”

“Stay focused, Sarah. I need to know what all this means.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Norah.”

“I want you to tell me what you think of the situation.”

“Well, it sounds kind of rapey to me, honestly.”

“I know. I know. I know! I’m so screwed up.”

“What did you do after he left the room?”

“I just walked back to the party and made small talk with guests.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t lead him on in any way at Nox?”

“Sarah, I drunkenly verbally assaulted him and left. I’d just found out about Johnny and Christina. I was out of my mind.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. It sounds kind of fucked up. You liked it? Don’t you feel used?”

“I’m so confused. But I’ve got a working theory going.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, just listen.” I paused.

“I’m listening.”

“Ok so, remember The Princess Bride?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I remember watching it at a slumber party in the third grade. All the girls swooned over Westley when he was the poor farm boy, saying, “As you wish,” to Princess Buttercup.”

“Sure.”

“But I didn’t. I liked the Dread Pirate Roberts when he was a cad with Buttercup and threatened to hit her for being a liar.”

“Seriously? Norah? You’re going to base your weird fetish on a kids’ movie?”

“No, bear with me.”

“Fine.”

“So remember in Pretty in Pink when Andie has to choose between Duckie and Blane? I didn’t care about either of those choices. I wanted her to end up with Steff.”
“The James Spader character who treated her like white trash?”

“Uh huh.”

“Really? I always wanted her to end up with Duckie.”
“Well she did. At least she did in the original script and they had to rewrite it after audiences disagreed with the ending. But that’s beside the point.”

“Which is? I’m still not following you.”
“Ok. So then there’s the Breakfast Club. I hated that movie. I didn’t identify with Claire. I identified with Allison.”

“Really, Norah? You were always dressed like a preppie. And you were a cheerleader.”
“Yes, Sarah, but I felt like Ally Sheedy. And I wanted her to end up with Judd Nelson. Don’t you see? It’s all been there since I was a kid.”

“Norah, you’re basically telling me you like assholes who treat women badly.”

“Exactly. Yes. Thank you.”

“You know, that’s not a good thing right?”

“Oh, I know. It’s my burden to bear.”

“Now that I think about it, Johnny was a dick to you before you started dating.”

“Totally.  See.  It’s like I’m a glutton for punishment. I crave it.”

“You’re twisted, Norah.”

“But you love me, right?”

“Yes. Of course. So what are you going to do about Hector?”

“Well, I’m not going to see him until the wedding. And that’s not for three months.”

“Just don’t do anything crazy.”

“Define crazy.”

“Oh my God, Norah, I’m not going to play your games. You’re such a lawyer, you’ll find loopholes in my definition to get what you want.”

“Ok, ok. I’ve gotta get back to work anyway if I’m going to make my hours for the month. Grace’s wedding is going to eat up all my vacation for the year. Thanks for listening.”

“You got it.”