Drinks that night went off without a hitch. Paul was cool, her friends' bluntness was not off-putting and he wasn't the type that was easily shocked; he could match them story for story and even up the ante. It felt silly all of a sudden, there was nothing to worry about and no one asked much beyond his name. They decided to hop to another bar down the block; when they walked in Paul pulled Emily aside and whispered, "Is that a mermaid swimming above the bar, or am I more drunk than I thought?"
"You're cute" she whispered back, "it's not your imagination, it's a real girl swimming in the tank." She'd been there before; the drinks were okay but the concept was what attracted people. The girl in the tank swam by and waved at them, they all waved back and found a table.
"Alright, this round is on me, and everyone's chugging" her friend Cathy said, "whoever loses has to buy the next round."
Instantly everyone started to drink; inhale liquid is a more accurate description. Paul lost on purpose and smiled as they all downed their beverages...then he bought a round of hard liquor and all the girls drank as fast as possible again. A few more rounds came and at this point everyone was pretty sloppy, particularly Emily. Staying in shape was a big deal and as such she didn't drink much; alcohol had a lot of calories and made her lose control...two sides of the same coin really. Control of her body was important, and losing it wasn't something she did with glee. She stood up to use the restroom and stumbled a bit; at this Paul put his hand behind her back to steady her. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah" she slurred, "the ground is wobbly, not me."
He smiled and looked at her friends, "I think we're done for the night. Is everyone okay getting home?"
A unison of "yeah", "come out with us anytime", and a few thumbs up followed; Paul smiled and gave them all a gentlemanly nod and walked out with Emily in tow. He knew they were within walking distance of her place but, being unfamiliar with the city and not wanting to have to carry her the whole way back, opted to hail a cab and gave the driver the address. As soon as they piled into the back, Emily rested her head on his lap and gave a comfortable sigh. Normally this would make him uncomfortable, but the mix of the drinks, the company, and her obvious content allayed those feelings. They pulled up in front of the building, he handed the cabbie cash for the fare and a tip and proceeded to wake Emily up.
"Em, we're here. You've got to wake up." She smiled a little faded smile and reached up for his arm; he pulled her up and they walked to the elevator, then to her loft, then as she started to fumble her body for the keys Paul dipped his hands into her pockets and pulled them out himself. He opened the door and she stumbled in behind him, wandering over to the couch and flopping lazily over the cushions. "You, my dear, are quite drunk" he said with a smile.
"Mmm, yes" she said quietly "I think you're right." She started to curl up on the couch and he sat next to her slowly; she moved her head on top of his lap again and closed her eyes. "You know what I also am" she said with her eyes closed, "horny as fuck. I want you to help me with that right now."
His eyebrows rose, "I don't know Emily; maybe you should get to bed. We can...revisit your request in the morning."
Her eyebrows scrunched, eyes still closed, "I know what I'm asking for" she said.
"You think you do, maybe. Drink some water."
She pouted, "I don't want water. I want you to do what I want you to do and you don't do it, ever."
"I don't make you happy?" he asked, rhetorically.
"You know you make me happy, you just don't do...what I want you to do. Like I said. And I can't coax you to or say anything to get you to and it's frustrating."
Paul closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exasperation beginning to cross his face "Emily, this is starting to frustrate me too. I like you; I'm turned on by you. And you're being, for lack of a better word, a little bit of a brat lately."
"A brat?"
"Yeah, like if I don't do what you want and you can't manipulate me to do it with your...ways, you get insecure and you pout. It's bratty and I don't like it."
She opened her eyes and looked up at him hesitantly, "You're not mad at me are you? I'm sorry for acting like that; please don't be mad. I'll stop, really."
He looked down at her, the exasperation replaced with softness instantly. "Hey, look at me. I'm not mad at you-even if I was you've got nothing to worry about. I don't like the look on your face right now, like you're afraid what'll happen if I get mad. We're just talking, and I'll never even raise my voice to you in anger, much less anything else."
She relaxed a little, unaware of the tension on her face. It was residual baggage, and she had to remind herself that things were different. "I know" she said, "but I am sorry. What do you want from me?"
"I just want you to be yourself. Accept my responses. I'm trying to be good for you and I like you and I don't like when you make it difficult for me to do that." Her faced was etched with disappointment and embarrassment at the words; she so wanted to be thought of as his equal and a woman and a brat was the opposite of those things. Seeing her face, Paul stroked her hair, then got up off of the couch. She laid there alone for about a minute, feeling stupid. Suddenly he was back, with a glass of water in his hand. She sat back up slightly and he said, "Scoot up".
"Huh?" she said in a haze.
"Scoot. Up."
She moved her body slightly up and started lifting herself off his lap when he stopped her, "I'm doing what you..."
"No, slide your body forward, don't get off my lap."
Her face scrunched again and she scooted forward, not leaving his lap. Suddenly, she felt a smack from behind, "Hey" she started, "what are..."
"Shhh" he said. He raised his hand, she flinched a little and he said soothingly, "I'm not going to hurt you, Emily, but I am going to demonstrate my displeasure at your attitude lately." He hit her bottom again, this time slightly harder, but it didn't hurt it was just...surprising. "Now take a drink of water" he said, giving her the glass. As she sipped he rubbed her back and let his fingers trail the length of her body. She drank almost the entire glass, then sat it down on the table next to the couch. She laid her head down again and he started to tease her, running his hands over her thighs, between her legs, but never where she wanted them to go. She wanted to squirm, and scream, and touch him back-but she stayed still, showing she was prepared to change her attitude. He carried on like this for almost ten minutes, slowly, frustratingly-when suddenly he slipped a single finger into her entrance.
"Mmmmm" she moaned.
