Soothe and Seduce

I was ecstatic that I was getting to see Sam again, especially since it had only been a couple hours since I'd given him the massage. I had gotten so horny that, when we were done, I headed straight home and self-indulged, and the only thing I could fantasize about was him.

Sam called me and told me he needed to tell me something important, in person. He suggested we meet up at the pizza place for dinner. When it came to pizza, there was no way in hell I could say no. Plus, I would get to eat it with Sam, which was more than a bonus for me.

Since it was only pizza and nothing fancy, I put on some regular February clothing and tied up my long, blonde hair. I figured Sam would think I was pretty no matter what I wore or how I did my hair, and thinking about that removed a gigantic weight from my shoulders.

After putting on a good dose of makeup (I still wanted to entice him a bit), I got in my car and drove to the pizza place. When I got there, I saw through one of the windows that he was already inside, waiting for me. He looked uneasy, anxious, and fidgety. What he wanted to tell me must've been extremely important.

I parked my car, then walked inside. The restaurant was a good size, with twenty tables inside it. It was incredibly bright in there, since the walls, the ceiling,

and

the floor were all titanium white. Other people were in there, eating some of the best pizza I ever saw. Sam smiled and waved at me as soon as he saw me.

"Hi, Sammy," I chimed as I sat down in front of him. "What's up? How're you feeling?"

"I feel a lot... lighter," he told me. "My back just feels

weightless.

My neck feels really loose, and my shoulders're more relaxed. I... I feel

great,

Dani."

I couldn't hold back my smile. No one had ever raved about my massages before. It made me feel... appreciated.

The server came by and we ordered one large pepperoni pizza. Sam requested that half of the pizza not have any cheese on it.

"Do you not like cheese?" I asked him as the server went to get our drinks.

"No," Sam replied.

I gasped dramatically, putting my hand over my heart and pretending I'd heard the biggest news of my life.

"You're judging me, aren't you?" he said flatly.

"Oh, very much," I said. I chuckled, quitting my act. "No, I'm actually not. Everyone has their likes and dislikes when it comes to food. I actually hate cereal."

"C-cereal?" he repeated. "Like, Cheerios or Lucky Charms?"

I nodded. "Mm-hm. I will eat oatmeal, though. As long as it's thick."

Sam smiled to himself. "Maybe we should order a pizza with cereal and extra cheese."

"Definitely," I said, catching on. "We'd

both

be in absolute

heaven.

"

We shared a giggle together. Soon, the server was back with my Sprite and Sam's Dr. Pepper.

"Sam, what did you want to tell me?" I asked, now that the ice had been broken.

He sighed. "Okay... I... Dani, we've... We've known each other for only a few days, but... I can honestly say that you are one of the greatest friends I've had in a while."

My heart nearly melted. "Awww, thank you, sweetie. I think you're a great friend too."

"But... Y'know, at first... I didn't think our friendship would go as far as it has—and I'm

very glad

that it has—but... When you kissed me, that's when I knew I had to tell you, Dani. What I'm about to tell you is really personal. You... You'll be the only person outside of my family that knows about this—"

"Sam, what is it?" I asked, getting the teensiest bit impatient.

"It's something I need to tell you early on, because... Because if I don't, and you find out about it yourself, I don't know what'll happen... If I hid this from you, I wouldn't be sparing you; I'd be sparing

myself.

And that's not fair to you, Dani. For those reasons... I really need to tell you this."

I leaned in closer, ready to listen. What was he going to tell me, I wondered? Sam never seemed like the kind of guy that held secrets. Was he a father? No, that couldn't be it; I was the first girl to ever give him her phone number. Was he a criminal? No, he was too innocent and sweet. Was he rich?

That

seemed like a possibility, given how nice and neat his clothes were.

"I... I have autism."

I cocked my head and furrowed my brow. "...What?"

"I have autism," he repeated.

Then it hit me. His soft voice... His quirky sense of humor... The awkward way he moved... The fact that he'd never gotten a girl's number... He listened to pop songs from

Sonic the

Hedgehog games in high school... But... those things didn't really

define

autism. I was sure that plenty of people had those traits but didn't have autism.

"Are, um..." Truth be told, I didn't know how to react. I moved in closer and whispered, "Are you

sure...?

"

Thankfully, he didn't seem deterred by my question. "A hundred percent. I was diagnosed when I was four."

"But... But..." I stammered. I just couldn't piece it all together. "But... You drive a

car.

You're in

college.

You work for a

newspaper.

I just... I..."

"That's the thing. There isn't just one type of autism. I have what's called Asperger's Syndrome. It's a

high-functioning

type of autism. I don't have it as bad as some folks do, but I— Y'know. I still have

challenges.

Social challenges, mostly. And, yes, I do drive, but I failed the driving portion of my test

three times

before I finally got my license."

Sympathy flooded my body, and a large lump was forming in my throat. "You poor thing..." I said as I tenderly put his hand in mine. "You've... You've probably been through

so much...

Sweetheart, thank you for telling me this. Thank you for being honest with me."

"You're not... freaked out?"

"Of course not, honey," I replied with utmost sincerity and compassion. I was smiling so hard that my cheeks were getting sore.

Sam was obviously surprised by how well I was taking it. He finally smiled back at me, and our fingers interlocked. I was so flattered that I was now the only person outside of his family to know about this.

"What's your last name, Sammy?" I asked.

"Stephenson," he replied. "Uh... What's yours?"

"Madison."

We happily ate our pizza together, then it was time to go. Sam had a bunch of classes the next day, so he thought he should get to bed soon. He paid for the both of us, and did so in record time, not giving me a chance to argue.

Once we were outside, I gave him another hug—this one natural and unforced. We held it for quite a while... ten seconds to be exact. I gave Sam a quick peck on the forehead as we broke away.

"Have a good night," I said as I gave his shoulder a flirty squeeze. "Maybe we can hang out again this weekend?"

"Um, actually, Dani..." Sam said, "I... I was thinking... maybe... you'd— Okay. The paper wants me to go to this fancy event on Friday. It's like a charity thing. They need me to fill in for a guy and interview some people. I... I was wondering if... you'd like to go with me? As my date?"

I felt my heart swell. "I'd

love

to, Sammy," I replied.

"R-really?" he said, surprised. It seemed, for some reason, he thought I would say no.

"Definitely! What time?"

"Uh... 7. 7 PM."

"Okay. I'd be glad to go with you. Then

I

would get to see

you

work," I told him.

"Heh..." He faced the concrete, blushing adorably.

I couldn't help myself. I gave him another big hug, snuggling my body against his.

I brought my lips close to his ear and hissed, "Have a great week, sweetheart."

I one again broke away from him, giving him a wink. I got in my car and drove away, leaving him standing there, smitten.

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

The days leading up to the party Sam invited me to were

torture.

All I wanted was to be with Sam. We talked and texted throughout the week, but when we weren't, it felt as if I had a giant hole in my side. Masturbating to him almost filled that hole, but it wasn't quite enough. I wanted the real thing.

What I had with Sam wasn't a crush. It was an

obsession.

I found his Facebook profile and immediately sent him a friend request, and he accepted it an hour later. He posted something every other day, and when did, I would give his post a "like".

On Wednesday, I texted him and asked what I should wear, and he told me he was wearing a suit and tie, so he suggested something nice but not overly so. I had a semi-tight red dress that went down to my knees. I suggested that, and he said go for it.

On Thursday, I called him, ready to get the final details in order.

"I can pick you up around 6:30," he said.

"Great. I'll text you my address."

"All righty. Sounds good, Dani. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow, then. I'm really excited."

"Y-yeah, me too."

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

Friday night. I could hardly wait to see Sam. Four days was too long a wait to be with a cutie like him. I was ready to go at 6:15—a great accomplishment, since I was typically fifteen minutes

late

instead. I wore a tight black dress that went down to my knees, my hair was in a fancy bun, and I had layers of makeup on. It was just before 6:30 when I heard a knock on my door. As I opened it, I saw Sam, and I nearly orgasmed. Crude, but true. He looked...

impressive.

He was wearing a black suit with matching black pants, as well as a dark blue tie with a white dress shirt. His medium-length hair was combed sideways, with just a little gel in it. He wore a cologne that made me think of waterfalls and rain, and it drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Sam's eyes went wide and he stumbled backward as he looked at me. "D-Dani... You look... gorgeous," he said in a voice as quiet as a whisper. "I... I... I should've dressed up better..."

"Nonsense, honey; I think you look perfect." I stepped forward. My fingertips roamed around his suit jacket, searching for any stray pieces of lint (at least, that was the excuse I gave myself). "

Really

great..."

Sam wasn't sure whether to look at me or watch my hands, so his head turned away, cheeks flushed. I desperately wanted to tell him, "Let's just forget the party and cuddle for the next two days." But, even if this was a date, this was for Sam's job at the paper, so I glumly resisted the temptation. However...

"Do you think we can hang out afterward?" I asked.

"Uh, y-yeah, sure," he said. "I... I think I'd like that."

"Mmm, good," I said as my hands moved to his shoulders and gave them a couple gentle squeezes. "You're a little tense... Are you nervous at all?"

"Definitely," he said quickly, shivering slightly under my touch. "I don't do these kinds of events very often..."

"You'll be fine," I assured him as I gave him a kind smile. "Besides, I'll be

right there

with you. No need to be nervous."

"Ok...okay," he said. He didn't sound very convinced, but he gave me a grin of his own, probably trying to boost his confidence.

"Well... I'm ready to go when you are," I told him.

He led me to his car. It was a pleasant shade of red, but the car itself was nowhere nearly as nice as mine. Still... it looked pretty good for a college boy on a newspaper's salary. We got in and drove off.

"What year is this car?" I asked. "It's pretty nice."

"2013," he replied. "I wash the outside and clean the inside frequently, and that kinda helps keep it looking new."

"...You're a li'l

neat freak,

aren't you?" I teased.

"Yyyep," he conceded, shrugging.

"That's good," I told him, patting his leg. As I did, for a split-second, we gained an enormous amount of speed, but Sam immediately sent us back to normal. "Th... That's a good thing to be proud of. I used to be just a

total

slob, but massage work's helped me to be cleaner and more organized."

Sam nodded. "Hm. To be a massage therapist, do you have to, like, be really good at anatomy and stuff?"

"

Oh

yeah," I answered, a subtle laugh in my voice. "Massages are so much more than just rubbing people. I had to take

hours'

worth of anatomy and physiology classes. And that isn't even the half of it."

"Really?"

"Mm-mm. I had to spend even more hours learning about the various techniques and styles of massages. I had no idea how weak my hands were when I started. They're much stronger

now,

but still."

"It was all worth it, though, right?"

"Definitely. It's a tough learning experience, but it's so rewarding. And I get to meet and help a lot of people."

A devious grin formed on Sam's face. "Who's the most attractive person you've ever massaged?"

You,

I answered in my head.

"I don't really think about that," I lied. "But... maybe once in a while, I'll come across someone I think is

kind of

cute."

Sam's cheeks flushed red yet again; he knew I was talking about him.

We talked for another twenty minutes before we reached the destination: the Anderson Hotel. I couldn't help but gasp; it was one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, with its grand stature and design, as well as the divine golden light surrounding it. I'd always wanted to spend one night there...if the rooms weren't so damn expensive.

After we parked, Sam asked me, "Dani, can you open the dashboard and grab my lanyard, please?"

"Ooo, a lanyard?"

"It's my pass, so that we can get in."

I opened the dashboard and reached inside, then pulled out his pass. "Thanks," he said as I gave it to him. He hung it over his chest like a necklace. As soon as we got out of the car, a deep voice called, "Hey! Sam!"

A slender, black-haired man—probably in his early to mid-thirties—was weaving his way through the parking lot to get to us. He wore attire very similar to Sam's, the only difference being his tie was red.

"That's Jack," Sam told me. "Photographer."

Sure enough, Jack had a camera bag strapped over his shoulder, as well as his own lanyard hanging from his neck. He power-walked over to us, heaving breath after breath through his lungs. Before he took his final step, his eyes turned to me, giving me an astounded look.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"I'm Danicka." My arm wrapped around Sam's and I held it close. "I'm his date."

Jack's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "You're

real?!

" He started to laugh, turning away from us. "Man... Heh heh... Sam's told me all about you. I thought he was lyin', but... here you are!" He gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. "Guess I owe you an apology."

"It— It's fine," Sam said dismissively, evidently not wanting to talk about it.

"Aw, man, he practically

gushes

over you," Jack told me. "A girl as good-lookin' as you, I can see why."

"Ma— Maybe we should head inside?" Sam suggested. His entire face was red—even his ears.

"All right, all right." Jack backed away, still having a good chuckle. We followed him into the Anderson Hotel, where he and Sam showed their passes to the two guards in front of the venue's ballroom.

"And who's this?" one of them asked, nodding toward me.

Sam started to answer. "She's my fr—"

"I'm his date," I interrupted. Honest to God, it was euphoric saying that. "I'm Danicka."

They let us into the ballroom—Jack went in first, then me, and Sam was last. As we walked in, our ears were instantly greeted by soft, jazzy music. Sure enough, there was a small jazz band on the corner stage, playing their hearts out. The ballroom was completely

packed

with people, all dressed in extravagant suits and elegant dresses. I made sure to keep Sam close to me; it was a good guess that he didn't like crowds and tight spaces. I looked at his face and could see that he was a little flustered. His cheeks were red, like always, but the rest of his face was sickly pale. His eyes darted around the room, looking at each and every person there.

He was terrified.

"Hey," I whispered into his ear. My hand slid down his arm until it found his own hand, and our fingers entwined—fitting perfectly, like keys and locks. "It'll be okay. I'm right here with you. Just... Just get them to talk about themselves. And believe me when I tell you that you're an

amazing

person to talk to."

"This was a mistake," he said under his breath.

"What? Bringing me here? Is that what you mean?"

"No. No, no. I mean, just... being here at all. I don't know what made me think I could do this."

It broke my heart seeing him this way. He reminded me of a turtle with no shell to retreat into. It was the opposite of the cool, comfortable version of Sam I'd been seeing. His hand still in mine, I led him to a small corner where it was just me and him.

"Listen to me," I told him, looking him straight in the eye. "These people

want

to talk about themselves. They're

desperately

searching for a

reason

to talk about themselves. They already know some press was gonna be here, right?"

"Y-yeah. I think..."

"You can do this, Sammy. I know you can."

"A-all right. I— I'll try." Sam reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and conjured a voice recorder. He browsed through the people in front of him, until he picked his first guy. "Mister Bolton!" he called as he stepped forward. Sure enough, a tall, balding man turned around, wondering who was calling his name.

"Mister Bolton," Sam said as he held out his hand. "Sam Stephenson,

Morning Tribune—

"

"Hey, I know you!" Mister Bolton said as he shook Sam's hand. "You wrote, um... That subway piece! That was a mighty fine article, son."

Sam seemed caught off-guard by the compliment, but he quickly recovered. "I'd like to hear your position on..."

And there he was... the cool, comfortable Sam I had a profound infatuation with. Then, Mister Bolton—that name reminded me of Michael Bolton, the singer—started talking about himself, then kept going. And going. And going. Nevertheless, Sam didn't show an ounce of boredom. He thanked Bolton for his time, then moved on to the next person. He did it so confidently and sociably, and it was damn sexy to watch. The selfish part of my nature thought,

Sam's doing this because of me!

, but I knew that I'd only given him a boost, and he did the rest.

I loved this version of Sam. He was kind and generous to his interviewees, yet still had that right amount of assertiveness. Several people mentioned knowing him from certain articles in the newspaper, making me feel like I was friends with a celebrity. A couple of women asked him his age, and when he told them he was twenty-one, they were stunned.

Meanwhile, I was downing as much champagne as I could.

Finally, after interviewing over a dozen people, Sam rushed back to our spot. His walk was a bit off, as if he had a small cramp in his thighs.

"You okay, Sammy?" I asked.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he told, mustering a smile towards me. He looked back to the crowd of people as he said, "It's just that... this is frickin'

terrifying.

"

"Wait, really? But... you're doing such an amazing job, Sammy. Like, a

fantastic

job. And..." I inched closer to him, giving him a coy smile as I said huskily, "...I didn't know you had a

reputation.

You're kinda famous."

"Oh..." He looked down at his shoes, a sheepish smile on his face. "It's not that big a deal," he said modestly. "It's just luck."

I furrowed my brow, far from convinced. "Just luck, huh?"

He could only shrug. "I like writing."

I moved in a little closer. "Sam, I... need to ask you something, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He looked me straight in the eye, a slight trace of dread on his face. "...What is it?"

"Why don't you drop out of school?"

The question obviously caught him by surprise. He looked toward the crowd of people again, thinking of an answer.