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I let go of her hand. She flexes her fingers and meets my eyes. A steely resolve hovers in her own. “I won’t be mad at you. It’s what I want.”
“Good girl.” I take her hand once more and apply a little pressure, tight enough so she won’t forget what she’s in for. As an afterthought, I softly say into the shell of her ear, “That lone condom won’t be enough, and besides... that fucker is way too small.”
I take a moment to enjoy her half-startled, half-lust filled expression before weaving us through the bar.
When we enter the hotel lobby and her sneakers squeak on the polished floor, I repress a smile at the thought that I’m leading a lamb to slaughter.
With our joined hands, I press the button for the elevator. A middle-aged couple with bleached blond hair and matching blue rain jackets dripping water comes up behind us.
The man murmurs what sounds like excuses until his woman overrides him mid-whine.
“Shut up, Harvey. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: you can’t keep track of your ass, let alone anything important. You should’ve given me the tickets to the aquarium. Paid all that money, and now —poof— you lost them.”
Harvey stares straight ahead, suffering in silence.
A shame how some men let their women turn them into a lapdog.
That won’t ever be me.
If nothing else, my father’s brief existence taught me I should always remain in control.
The Rights of a Woman
Royce
Fromthelobbytothe fourth floor, the woman uses her words to nip at her man like a small dog.
Mid-way, I let go of Genesis’s hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. When the couple exits, I breathe a sigh of relief.
We travel up a few more floors in silence, and when the doors open, Genesis asks, “What room are you in?”
“I’m in 1218 at the end of the hall… it’s to the right.”
With a nod, she’s making her way down the corridor before I can put a toe onto the carpet. A few long strides later, I catch up, my eyes zeroing in on her backside.
Her ass sways like a ship tossed about by stormy waves. I make a vow to grab a hold of those round globes and rock inside her—toandfro— at least once if not twice.
I place the hotel key card against the lock. When the green light pops on, I open the door.
Genesis skitters past me, white knuckling her bag in a grip of death. I flip on the lights. She squints at the sudden brightness.
The distance between us and the fact that she is clutching her bag like a lifeline, tells me she may be having second thoughts. If shehaschanged her mind, I’ll see she gets a cab and then I’ll follow up with Plan B.
“Where’s your bathroom?” Her eyes dart around, taking in the gray leather couch, glass coffee table, and dark gray rug. There’s a kitchenette/bar around the corner and the bedroom beyond that; not like she’ll join me there. Asking for the bathroom is just an excuse for her to rethink her life choices.
Her eyes shift to mine as I tuck a particularly long piece of hair behind her ear. “If you’ve changed your mind. We can call it a night.”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” She shrugs off her bag and coat and hands them to me. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“There’s a powder room to your right.” I toss her jacket and bag onto the couch. My aim is great, always has been. The coat and bag settle as if I’ve carefully laid them there.
“No, I want to use the one in the bedroom.”
“You do?” I can’t help but question her. A moment ago, I thought she was going to bolt. Now, she’s acting like Little Lolita.
Genesis gives me a gamine smile. In her clothes she looks like a tomboy, but the way she pushes her breasts into my chest shows she’s a woman who knows what she wants. “Like I said, Steven,” she pats me on the ass like we’ve been together for years. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Damn.That she forgot my (fake) name chaps me raw... and makes me want her all the more.
