Soothe And Seduce Ch 01

Once, I met this guy. He was...

different

, to say the least. I heard of people like him, but I had never

met

someone like him before. I had no idea that he would be all my greatest fantasies come true.

I met him when I was at someone's house, hanging out with my friends. It was a Friday night in late February. A strong snowstorm was coming in, so instead of leaving we decided to wait it out. We had plenty of drinks and food to hold us over. A twenty-seven-year-old girl like me wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Sure, I would have work the next day, but I told myself I'd moderate my alcohol intake.

Sure.

There were some new faces with us, two of them to be exact. One was very talkative and sociable, but I knew that deep down, he was the biggest douchebag ever. He was wearing a tank top. In February. During a snowstorm. And he drank like he was stranded in a desert. Sure, he had an amazing body, and his face could've been able to make any girl melt, but I had dated plenty of guys like him before. After a fourth failed relationship, I knew I had to search for a more decent type of guy.

And then there was the second new face.

Him.

From a distance, he seemed average in almost every way. Average face, average hair, average body, average clothing, etcetera. But, he seemed a thousand times more decent than Douchey McShitfaced.

I kept my eye on him. He seemed rather quiet. Not exactly shy, just quiet. He rarely contributed to a conversation, and when he did, his sentences were no longer than five words long. But he seemed so friendly... When someone was talking, he gave them his utmost attention. All night, he held the same red solo cup, but he never once drank out of it. He often went to the bathroom, despite not eating or drinking anything, and would be in there five to ten minutes at a time. When he would come out, he'd seem shaken, then, he would take a deep breath, calm down, and resume listening to whatever conversation he could find.

I found Gracie, the person who organized this little get-together. She had short, light brown hair, and wore too much makeup.

I barely gave her any time to notice I was next to her. "Gracie, I need to know something," I told her.

"Oh,

hi

, Danicka!" she said in her shriek of a voice. "What's up?"

I pointed at the quiet, average boy, who was sitting by himself on the floor in the corner, going through his phone. "Do you know who that guy is?" I asked.

"Sorry, Danicka, but no, I don't," she said, only taking a quick glimpse at him. "But you can ask Cameron."

"Cameron...?"

I almost threw up when she pointed to the fuckboy in the tank top. "That's Cameron," Gracie said. "They came here together."

"Fuck

that

," I said, a little too loudly. "I'll just ask the

guy

his name."

"All right," Gracie said, "but be careful, though. He seems kinda... odd."

I suggested, "Maybe he just doesn't like parties. He's probably just... out of his element."

Without speaking another word to her, I went across the room, making my way through the seven other people there. The guy saw me coming and looked me straight in the eye, but only for a second. Then his eyes quickly snapped back to his phone.

Up close, he was actually really cute. Like, "puppy in the window of a pet store" cute. His hair was neatly combed, and he was a little bit on the shorter side in terms of height. I guessed I was maybe two or three inches taller than him.

Undeterred by his avoidance of my gaze, I sat directly in front of him. I never liked sitting on floors, but it was better than towering over him like some kind of giantess. His knees were curled up to his chest, and he had one arms wrapped over his legs, like he was shielding himself from something.

I busied myself by brushing my long, golden hair to the side with my fingers. After a few seconds, it was clear he wouldn't be the one to initiate a conversation, so I simply said, "Hello there."

He finally looked at me. His eyes were big and brown, like they held the mysteries of the universe.

He gave me a forced but friendly smile. "Hi."

"I'm Danicka," I said.

He didn't say anything. He just blinked a few times and continued to wear that innocent smile.

"What's your name?" I prompted, trying my best to not sound impatient.

"I, uh... I'm Sam," he said.

"Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you, Sam." I gave him my

own

smile—the smile I used when I was flirting.

Sam looked away, and his cheeks turned blood red.

"What's wrong?" I asked, giggling at his blushing.

Keeping his eyes on anything except me, he replied, "Oh, y'know, it's— I just, uh... I, um... I..." He took a deep breath. "I... I think you're really pretty."

"Awww. Thank you, Sammy," I said. "Can I call you Sammy?"

Sam nodded.

His simple compliment really created a warm feeling in my chest. I had been called hot, sexy, fine, smokin', and other things, but I wasn't called "pretty" that much. Or maybe... it wasn't the

compliment

, but the sincerity and innocence

behind

it.

"If... If you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Sammy?" I asked. "I was just wondering."

"Twenty-one," he said casually, like it was no big deal.

"Okay," I said. "I'm twenty-seven."

He nodded slowly, finally looking at me again. "That's, um... That's... cool."

"Are you in college?" I asked. "What's your major?"

"English. I'm a sophomore."

"Oh, I see... Did you take a year after high school?"

"Yeah," he said. "You know... Financial stuff."

"Oh, I get

that

," I told him with a laugh. "Debt can be crazy."

He nodded. I could tell he was losing interest in the conversation. I needed to change the subject.

"Do you have a job someplace?" I asked.

"Yep," he said.

". . ."

". . ."

"What do you do?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Um... I work at the paper. I write—stuff like that."

"That's cool! You're kind of like Peter Parker, huh?"

His eyes flashed. Suddenly, all that bashfulness seemed to dissipate. "Yeah... Yeah! Well, maybe more like Clark Kent, but yeah. Well... not really, because I do online stuff. I'm not really a reporter. Not

exactly

, anyway. Um... What do

you

do?"

"I'm a masseuse," I said.

Sam gave me a blank stare, like he didn't even know what a masseuse was. Then he raised his eyebrows. "Huh... That... seems like a cool job to have," he said.

"It

is

a cool job to have," I told him. "And it's quite rewarding, since I get to help people."

"That's... really cool, Danicka," Sam said. I noticed that his smile was much more natural and relaxed. "Yeah, helping people... That's a nice way to live."

"Have you ever gotten a massage?" I asked. It was a little out of the blue, yes, but I figured we weren't strangers enough for me to ask that.

"Well... Not professionally," he replied.

"What do you mean by that?"

Sam took a second to think. "A few years ago a friend gave me a massage, but I hated it. It was just so... uncomfortable. So, no, I've never had, like, a

real

massage."

"They probably just didn't know what they were doing," I said. "

Plus

, now you know someone who can give you a

real

one," I said.

". . . Uhhhm..."

"Here." I held out my hand. "Give me your phone."

He actually gave it to me, not even asking why I needed it. I put my personal number in his phone and gave it back to him. He looked at me, then at his phone, then back at me, flabbergasted.

"Uh... Duh-Danicka, I—"

"Shhh... Don't worry, we don't have to do it

tomorrow

or anything like that. I just want you to have my number. I... I think we should talk more, Sammy. You seem like a really pleasant guy."

"O-okay, th-thank you, but... Can't we just talk more... here?"

"Of course!" I said. Usually, when I gave a guy my number, he would just take it and run. "But... Do you want talk someplace quieter? And where we won't have to sit on the floor?"

"S-sure, yeah. Of... Of course."

He looked at his phone once more.

"Is something wrong, sweetie?" I asked.

"N-no, i-it's just... A girl has never given me her phone number before."

I looked at him, speechless. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to

think

. Was that really true?

My silence was a mistake, because, before long, Sam had a worried expression on his face. "Does— Does that creep you out?" he asked, speaking rather quickly. "I-I know that's kinda weird, so if you want me to delete your number I ca—"

"What?

No!

No, Sam, I'm not creeped out," I said hastily. I tried laughing, but it came out as a nervous chuckle.

I read his face like a book—he was hating himself for being so awkward.

"Turn Down for What" started blaring through the subs, shaking the whole house. I looked at Sam. He was sitting in a way that made him look like a pile of pine needles was under him.

"Let's go talk somewhere quiet!" I yelled through the music.

He nodded, then got up. I gave him my hand, letting him help me up. Keeping our fingers intertwined, I led him to the bedroom. His hand twitched once he figured out where we were going.

"There's no need to be scared, Sammy," I said gingerly. "I'm not gonna try anything on you. You're safe with me."

I closed the door behind us and turned on the light. The bed was nicely made, and the entire room itself was very clean. Flicking the switch, I turned on the lamp next to the bed, spreading a soft, orange light through the room.

I sat on the bed, then, looking at Sam, patted my hand on the spot to the left of me. He sat down next to me, albeit a little farther away than I liked. Our feet could feel the vibration of the bass, but it was leagues quieter in the bedroom than in the living room.

"So," I said, ready for my private time with him, "what kind of music do you like? Do you have a favorite singer?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but then he blushed. "I... I really like Justin Timberlake," he said, speaking in a way that made him sound ashamed.

"I like him, too!" I said. "I wish he would make some new music soon."

"Me, too. I'm getting kinda tired of the songs the radio keeps playing. Um... What music do

you

like, Danicka?"

"I

love

J. Cole," I said almost immediately. "His latest CD is

amazing

."

"Really? I... I'll have to check it out."

"Are you sure? It might be a little hardcore for

you

, Sammy," I teased.

Sam scoffed. "Oh, I bet I can handle it. I listen to Timberlake, after all. And I'm always open to listening to new music. Just as long as it's not annoying or repetitive. Can I... tell you a secret, though?"

I moved just a little bit closer to him, nodding. I was amazed that he already trusted me enough to tell me a secret.

"Back in high school," Sam began, "when I was a freshman, I went through this...

phase

."

"Uh-huhhh..."

"So... I was really into music from...

Sonic the Hedgehog

. Not the instrumental stuff. The pop songs."

"

Sonic the Hedgehog

has pop songs...?"

"Yep. And they're all cringy and terrible."

"Huh. That doesn't seem like a big deal. To

me

, anyway. So... do you— Do you have any other

hobbies

?"

"Well, right now it's pretty much just school," Sam explained. "I'll watch TV when I get the chance, though. Maybe play some video games."

"Oh, okay," I said, nodding my head. "What shows do you watch?"

Sam smiled. "

Parks and Recreation

."

"Ohhh my god," I said, putting my hand over my heart. "I love

Parks and Rec

. Who's your favorite character?"

"Probably Andy or Ron."

"Yeah? Mine, too," I told him.

"Cool."

Then, silence. Our faces were pointed in each other's direction, but neither of us were really looking at each other. After a few moments, I looked to my right. Outside the window, the snow was blowing as hard as ever.

"Hey, Danicka?" came Sam's innocent, boyish voice. "Can I... ask you something?"

"Sure," I said, looking at him and smiling. "What's up?"

"...Why did you come up to me?"

I shrugged, coming up with my answer in barely two seconds. "Well, why

not

? You seemed approachable, and I was right. You seemed really nice, and I was right. And you looked really lonely—"

"And you were right," Sam finished. "I was kinda dragged out here against my will. My roommate Cameron brought me here."

My eyes almost bulged out from my head. "That guy's your

roommate

?!"

Sam nodded solemnly.

"Oh,

sweetheart

, I am so

sorry

." I closed the distance between us and took Sam into my arms. It seemed as good an opportunity as any, and I was tired of suppressing my clingy nature.

I touched his cheek with mine as I embraced him. One arm was draped across his chest, while the other was hooked around his shoulders. He sat there, as stiff as a statue. I should have realized I was severely invading his personal space. But he never asked me to stop, and he never made an effort to peel me off of him.

The hug lasted ten seconds before I finally let go of him. He looked absolutely rattled. He took a deep breath and managed to get himself relaxed. Meanwhile, I was brushing my long, blonde hair out of my face.

"But, y'know, I'm glad I came here," Sam said. He then looked at me. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have met

you

."

If I hadn't given him my phone number earlier, I would've given it to him right then and there. Resisting hugging him again, I instead simply patted the back of his hand. I looked out the window once more, watching the snow whizz past. It seemed like none of us were going to be able to get home until the next morning.

I could hear the faint whisper of sleep gently calling my name. As much as I loved winter, I hated how it messed with my sleep patterns. If this party had been in the summer, I would have raved for days straight.

I already missed holding him in my arms. He was so innocent, and so polite... I loved how he thought he was being rude, when he was really being the absolute opposite. I loved that he talked to me like a person—not like some

girl

.

A fuzzy heat pumped through my veins, spreading through my body. I bit my lip as I sized him up, getting a closer look at him—specifically his body. As I noted earlier, he was slightly shorter than me, and under that sweater and jeans, I could faintly detect a skinny, semi-athletic build. Sam wasn't exactly

hot

, but he was most definitely charming.

I realized I hadn't yet responded to him yet. "Yeah, I'm glad you came, too," I said. "You know, I don't think I've ever met a guy like you before, Sammy."

He furrowed his brow. "R-really?"

"Yeah."

"What... What's a guy like

me

like?"

"Well, someone who's

genuine...

A guy that I can feel

safe

with... A guy that I like talking to..." I moved a little closer to him.

"O-oh!" he stammered. "R-really? Wow, that's, um... That's... interesting. Th-thank you, Danicka."

He gave up and turned his eyes to the floor. I could tell he didn't know how to take compliments. There was something

else

, though. He sat there, hunched over, his arms over his stomach, and he looked really uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, honey?" I asked.

He nodded, but he stayed silent.

This was one of the most frustrating moments of my life. Sam had these

walls

up, and all I wanted was to tear them down. I was so used to being able to easily connect with and talk to people, but, then, Sam came along and gave me a reality check. And I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was that

drew

me to him.

I said to him, "Hey, want me to get us some drinks?" I knew I could trust him with alcohol around. I doubted that a guy who listened to

Sonic the Hedgehog

music when he was in high school would try to take advantage of me.

He nodded, forcing himself to smile. "Sure! I mean, I haven't drunk since I turned twenty-one—"

"Well," I said, "there's a first time for everything. Wait here; I'll be right back."

I left the room, off to get a couple beers. The cooler was in the kitchen. When I opened it, I saw that there were only six or seven beers left, and the ice was just about melted. I grabbed four and started my way back.

"Hey! Danicka!" Gracie's voice shrieked through the loud music. She emerged from the small crowd of people and came up to me. "Hey, how's it going with what's-his-name?"

"His name's Sam," I told her, "and he's actually a really great guy. I really like him. He's sweet, he's genuine, he's got some unique interests... He's great."

"That's super, Danicka!" Gracie exclaimed.

I soon returned to the bedroom, where Sam was still in the same spot I'd left him. I opened the bottle for him and handed to him, then sat next to him, our hips only an inch apart.

"Cheers," I said.

"Cheers."

We clanged our bottles together. I watched Sam intently as he took his first sip. His eyebrows tensed up, and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Mm, that does

not

taste good," he said as he looked the bottle over.

"You'll get used to it," I told him as I took a sip of my own.

"I hope I'm not a

lightweight

," he said as he gulped down some more.

I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn't spit the beer out as I held my laughter in. Sam said it in such a dry yet witty tone that I couldn't help but giggle.

"So," said Sam, "what's the weirdest or funniest thing to happen to you while being a masseuse?"

I immediately came up with my answer. "One time, there was this guy with the hairiest back I've ever seen."

Sam cringed. "Really?"

"Mm-hm. I was so...

disgusted

but it that I blurted, 'When's the last time you shaved your back?'"

"And what'd he say?"

"He gave me the most smart-ass answer ever. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, 'Last night.'"

"Ooh, savage!" Sam exclaimed. "So what'd

you

do?"

"I told him to go fuck himself and get the hell off my massage table, that's what," I replied firmly.

Sam threw one of his hands to his mouth, covering it as he let out a high-pitched wheeze. "Oh,

God!

" he said. "Did he... Did he still pay you?"

"Nope. He put his clothes on and just left. Sammy, his back was

traumatizing

to look at. It fucking looked like fucking

moss

. There are things in life you just cannot un-see. What about you, Sammy? Anything funny happen that's journalist-related?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," Sam said, already tipsy. "My editor wanted to write an article about a public forum, so I went. Danicka, it was the funniest thing ever, let me tell ya. There was a guy with a complaint.

He complained

about a fu-

frickin' ham sammich

that was lying in the middle of the street."

"Are you serious?" I asked as I took another swig.

"No. I mean yes. But that wasn't even his real complaint. He was gonna eat that sannndmich... but then a dog came along and ate it before the

guy

could. Not even lying... though

he

may have been. And you wanna know what the forum was about?"

"What?" I asked.

"It was about

tourism

," Sam said. "It was about bringing more people into town. I swear, Danicka, I devoted half the article to the ham sandivich guy. My editor loved it. That was our most-selling paper in months."

Sam had already started on his second bottle, and he could barely sit upright.

"Have you ever even had a

sip

of alcohol?" I asked.

"Nnnope," he said. A sullen look took over his face. "Tomorrow I am going to be so

fucked

."

------------------------------

I woke up to Sam in my arms. I had woken up to much weirder things, so this was kind of refreshing. Sam looked absolutely fucked. He looked as if he'd gotten smacked on the head and knocked out by a soccer ball. He still looked adorable, yes, and it felt really nice holding him. We were both still fully clothed, which I was relieved to see.