Do you think that 'the one' appears when you least expect him? That is my experience. I'm not someone who makes things happen or sets her sights on a man and knows how to go about making him hers. I guess that's what seduction is and I've never tried it. Only a fool would try that on Hollis; he'd see right through it for the manipulation it is.
And yes, some girls have just thrown themselves at him, even right in front of me, like willing human sacrifices. Even if they're hot, Hollis regards this the way a tiger would react to rancid meat. Why settle for carrion when you're built to hunt and could eat your prey still warm? I've seen him close his eyes for a second and melt into a stranger's caress to enjoy the sensuality for a second. Then his eyes snap open and he'll send her flying across the roadhouse's sticky floor to fall on her ass with her mouth hanging open. I think they expect to enjoy his dick first before the violence, especially when they approach him all pornified.
Holly takes what he wants and that's how it's got to be; nothing turns him off faster than being approached for sex like he's desirable. When we met, I tried not to let on how much I wanted him, but only because I knew he was out of my league, as they say. He was gorgeous, powerful, seething with volatility... I just assumed he'd want a female version of his badass self. It didn't occur to me right away that the one to snag his interest and capture that feral heart would be submissive.
The difference between throwing yourself at a man like you have zero self-respect and submitting body and soul is perhaps subtle, but it's a distinction even Holly's deranged mind gets instinctively. He saw my true nature where most people wouldn't. The night we met, I learned his life attunes him to secrets. His are massive.
It was about 9 PM on a Friday. It was raining. I remember that because I knew his bandages would be soaked and need changing. It was clear to me he was hitchhiking, though both thumbs were trapped in gauze mitts. This made sense--he was about a half-mile down the road from the Wayne County Hospital where I work.
I took in his silhouette--what a fine-looking man. He had unusually broad shoulders, a V taper to narrow hips, and he appeared to be lean but not skinny. Even from a distance, I could make out his angular features when the passing headlights caught them just right. I liked the way his unevenly cut hair stuck to his forehead and the way rain dripped from his cheekbones. As I slowed up, I noticed the pink of his tongue as he licked his delicate, wet lips. Damn.
Would I have stopped if he weren't wounded? Did that make him seem safer? Would I have told myself it's idiotic to pick up a hitchhiker if he weren't so fucking angelic? I've often asked myself these questions. All I can be sure of is that I wasn't starving for sex, but I was instantly thirsty as hell for this man. I wanted to drink him starting with the rainwater, finishing with his cum.
I stopped and he trotted up to the open passenger side window.
"Where are you headed?" I called out.
His eyes punctured me. I was sure he was just reading my mind, that he knew the impression he'd already made, but I shook off the paranoia. His smirk unsettled me.
"Anywhere. Away from here. Wherever you'll drop me is fine."
At this point, I noticed that even though I'd already stopped, he was still looking down the road from the direction I came. He appeared to be looking for someone he didn't want to catch up with him. When we heard the distant sirens, his hand impatiently darted for the door handle. I swear he commanded me with only his eyes.
"Well, okay then! Get in, please."
He didn't hesitate and I carefully pulled back onto the road, then took the first exit to the highway. My pulse raced. I'm not a great driver to begin with, so on a rainy night with such a distracting passenger I just kept my mouth shut and started to drive to my apartment. I didn't know what else to do.
"Are you sure I can't take you someplace? It's just that... I'm almost home, so that's where this ride would normally end. If you want to go further, I don't mind driving a little. It's really up to you, uh..."
"Kevin," he offered.
I don't know why, but I laughed. So did he! I gave him more than a quick peripheral glance this time and noticed the teeth--unnaturally rotten. 'Well, no one can be that perfect,' I thought. He was still more beautiful than anyone I'd seen in recent memory, in film or real life.
"I thought I was good at lyin'," he drawled. The brief smile gave way to tension around his mouth and eyes. He was in pain, perhaps a substantial amount.
"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. I just know you're not a Kevin."
"Heh, yeah. He's my brother. Aw, fuck it. I'm Hollis... Holly."
"Yeah, that's more like it," I agreed. I didn't ask why he'd lie. I took in the injuries. Probably burns, as if he'd tried to salvage something going up in flames. The teeth... some small scabs like he had a habit of picking at his sleek neck. I had never smelled a meth lab before, but there was a strange chemical smell emanating from his wet clothes. However, I was more intrigued by the musky scent of his sweat that I could detect underneath it. I put it together right then that he had been cooking, it caught fire, he'd reluctantly gone to get his injuries treated, someone at the ER had called the police.
Of course, he could be wanted for something worse--perhaps much worse--than manufacturing crank. I didn't care. In hindsight, I can see I was already falling for him. Too fast? Sure. Too fast to be believed? Only if you don't believe in love at first sight. Call it shallow, or maybe animal instinct, or maybe, to be lofty about it, it was just written in the stars. I chose to give him my trust.
What does that say about me? He's a drug dealer, a killer, a sex freak, a meth head... of all the people I could have met, I chose him. Oh, like I'm such a prize!
"Hollis... would you like to stay at my place tonight? You know, until you figure things out? I can change your bandages. You can dry off..." I kept my voice even, blasé almost. I wanted it to be clear that I was offering, not begging.
"Ya really should be more careful," he replied. "I mean, I could be anyone. You don't know shit about me," he said, almost angry with me.
"It was just a thought. At least you're closer to the highway now, so you should have a better chance at getting... someplace."
His breathing had grown shallow, panting almost. Burns do hurt like hell, relentlessly. I could see he didn't like the thought of standing in the cold rain while in pain, maybe hungry, bored to tears or beginning to freak out about his situation. Was he going through withdrawal? I didn't have much that could treat that, but we might be able to take the edge off it a little, make it a fraction less awful.
"Yeah, okay. Let's go to your place. But if you call the cops, you'll regret it."
I had no doubt he'd just threatened to kill me. It was not an idle threat. I was okay with that. I knew from the start that if I ever crossed him, he'd kill me without hesitation. How painfully, I didn't know, but that didn't matter. I just wouldn't betray him.
I didn't promise him I wouldn't because I could tell from the jump that promises sicken him. We have that in common.
"I won't." I shrugged--there's no other true thing I could say that wouldn't sound like a lie.
I lived in an apartment complex on the second floor. It was clean and recently built, but nothing enviable. Most of the tenants were low-level hospital employees like me, with the rest holding other types of working-class jobs. One of those places where you enter from the outside like it's a motel. The inside looked like it could be one, too. I kept it spartan, generic. I don't like a lot of clutter and I'm not one of those people who want their personality looking back at them everywhere they turn. It's probably creepy to some people that I have no photos, no collections of crap nor personal touches. I find most people's places creepy, too.
