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It was a terrifying thought that after ten years, I wanted to know how a woman took her coffee. What she felt comfortable sleeping in, and if she liked apple turnovers for breakfast.
4
Kiara
The stranger across the bar introduced himself as David. Thick muscles bulged from his tight t-shirt. I was honestly worried it might tear at the seams, but I also wouldn’t complain if it happened. I considered it reverse ogling. An appreciation for the male anatomy, and a general curiosity if he had the mythical unicorn eight pack of abs. I felt qualified to make this observation as a certified teacher of health classes. My sister was also was a doctor if I had questions beyond my scope of expertise, but I felt confident in my general knowledge and religious enough to pray his damn shirt ripped.
David fulfilled his promise to buys all of us drinks and then grabbed me around the waist with confident paws that had to be twice the size of my own hands. We started dancing like our bodies were made for each other. We fit the way a puzzle piece easily slides in and locks holding it together. I didn’t think about anything but the present moment as he explore my body in rhythm to the music. For a span of time I
ceded control. There was no worry about my health, my job, my responsibilities, and it was nice.
Nice probably seemed too bland a word to describe how liberating this was–the absence of thought. When cancer ravaged my body, I had nothing but time to think holed up in my hospital room between treatments. My family tried to hide their worry, but I watched them grieve in secret moments down the hall of the hospital in whispered hushes as if I were already gone. They were supportive, as much as they could be, but all that support meant nothing when your goals, your singular focus was gone at the literal removal of a limb with surgical precision.
I lived the life of the kid from Fried Green Tomatoes. All jokes aside, the funeral for my leg was more for my family than it was for me. I had to be okay for them to be okay, but I don’t know if you ever become okay with phantom pains that wake you up in the middle of the night in sweaty twisted sheets. A key point in moving out was gaining my autonomy and a sense of control. This man had the capacity to make me lose that control and I didn’t know how to feel about it.
My suggestive dance with the sexy man built like a brick house made me smile. Our hips swayed in a grinding body against body motion to pop music from the early 90’s, still good, but mostly bad. I leaned my head back enjoying the feel of his thick fingers pinching my hips. Without my sister’s boots I was 5’10”, but he remained inches taller making me feel delicate in his arms. His thick muscles were an easy handful, corded and ripped under the hem of his tight t-shirt sleeve. He made the phrase good looking, tight fitting, a religion–and I prayed like a lusty sinner. Around his thick neck he wore a silver chain that disappeared down his shirt. I was curious what hung from it and before I could ask he gently lifted my chin to meet his hazel eyes.
“You have the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. Summer Midnight. Gorgeous.” His lips murmured inching closer to mine with a husky voice that sounded like he rarely used it unless necessary. There was no cliché in his words and the attraction was heady between us, flowing like honey. Heavy, slow, and sweet.
I gazed at his mouth, pale masculine lips fuller on the bottom than on the top looking bitable and delicious. I craved to taste his mouth and run my tongue along the inseam wondering if he’d be bitter like his beer I watched him sipping earlier. My hand cupped his cheek, my skin dark against his tan in the dim club light and I pulled him closer. I needed him in a way I hadn’t needed anyone before. My ex-boyfriend was light years away in time and space, but this man in front of me seemed more than capable of offering me exactly what I wanted.
A night of distraction.
He raised his head up groaning and our eyes scanned each other up and down several times. He gazed on me genuinely interested in what he saw, and I liked it. The itch to test him ran rampant in my suspicious mind. I’d been burned before.
“Maybe, I’m just a novelty.” I brushed him off turning away with the obvious ready to bolt. His arms circled around my middle preventing my escape, but loose enough I didn’t feel threatened. He pulled me flush against his hard body. I almost bounced off of him, but he caught me, his hold immovable. My back was against his chest and I felt the ridge of his dick lined up between the swells of my butt. He lifted grinding against me in tune to the music. I sank back into him feeling more relaxed and trusting than I should on a first date, first anything in fact, because this isn’t a date. I tell myself the lie that it won’t get farther than that.
His hands stroked down my arms caressing the goose bumps gently and warming me against the draft inside the bar as the door swung open and closed.
His lips skated against my neck, his breath hot, but clean despite imbibing the beer before our dance. “Nothing about you would be a novelty. I want to get to know you.” He turned me around slowly in his arms. “Preferably outside a noisy place like this.”
I scanned the club for my sisters and girlfriends, but they’re busy at the bar flirting for drinks. I loved my hussy crew, but they got demerits for being terrible wing-women.
I shrugged keeping up the dance and light flirtation. Running my hands up his chest and around his neck I asked, “What did you have in mind?”
His chest expanded and a slow chuckle escaped as he elaborated. “You know that coffee shop on the corner?”
I ducked my head acknowledging the only coffee spot he could be talking about. I grew up in this town. “The one that’s open late and serves the best red velvet cupcakes in the state?”
He gave me a bashful look I wasn’t expecting as if he’s thinking things he shouldn’t. I can’t quite get a read on him, but if it’s just coffee then it doesn’t have to mean anything more. “That’s the one. Sweet Elixir. Best caramel coffee this side of the Hudson. Though they might have competition with Cake and Battery over in New Paltz.”
Nodding, I agreed to go with him for the quoted, just coffee, and glanced over my shoulder to where my sisters and friends are at the bar. “Sure, but I need to tell my girls where I’m going.”
It’s been a long dry spell for me and despite their eagerness for me to find a guy and hook up, they will still worry and tell me be wary. I’m the good girl of the group. I never go home with someone I haven’t been dating for a spell. If fact, this guy would be a first since Dev. This type of behavior will have them calling my ass early tomorrow for details over brunch.
“That’s a good idea. You can take a picture of my license if it makes them feel better.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me his license. I held up the official card and noted his personal details. David Arthur Easton, resident of New Paltz. The street address was on Main Street, and I knew the address was basically downtown near the school where I worked. He was three years older.
He leaned over my shoulder, “So not a total wacko?”
“The night is young.” I smirked and pulled out my phone to snap the photo. I texted my sister who messaged me back right away. I was surprised she responded given how preoccupied she looked chatting up the bartender and running interference on Dijah.
Kelsey: He’s hot. Be careful and call me later. *smiley face*
You bet. It’s just coffee…
Kelsey: It’s never just coffee, Kiara.
Sighing deeply, I slipped my phone back in my clutch. He could still be a serial killer, but I didn’t get those vibes, and the place we were going was a straight walk on well lit streets I was familiar with.
