Hallway
The Coke foamed and spilled over the edge of the clear plastic cup.
"Oh shit," I whispered, setting the bottle down and looking around frantically, I grabbed a green dishrag from the sink and caught the liquid right before it spilled over the counter onto the floor.
"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit."
"Are you having fun?" a voice behind me asked.
I winced and closed my eyes for a moment. Of course, it was him. I did something stupid, so he would be there to see it—like the way he somehow always showed up when I was having trouble with the copier.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled.
"Nah, nah, it's okay," I replied, as I turned on the faucet and rinsed out the dishrag in the sink, "You just interrupted me, I was pouring Coke all over your counter. Is it okay if I use this?" I held the rag up.
He took a sip of his drink and waved his hand as if he were lazily swatting at a fly. "S'fine."
"Thanks. I'm sorry," I said, getting the last of the liquid up.
"No sweat," he said, "Though can I make a suggestion?"
I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. He was leaning over the counter. For a moment I imagined myself behind him, spanking him, I'd have to swing a little harder to make the hits count through his jeans-- I shook my head slightly to focus.
"What?"
"Maybe try using a
cup
for your beverage?"
I scoffed as I rinsed and wrung the rag again. "Look," I replied, "I'm not going to use a cup just because that's what
everyone else
is doing, okay?" I folded the dishrag back over the sink and made sure the Coke bottle cap was screwed on tightly. "Don't try to make me
conform
, man."
He straightened up and put his hands up. "All right, all right, I'm sorry, I know, you're a rebel."
"That's right," I replied in a mock-serious tone. I grabbed my drink and leaned back against the counter. "It's really cool of you to throw this party for Aiden."
"Yeah, I'm going to miss him, he's been so helpful to me, I thought it was the least I could do." He looked out across the open floor plan to the living room area. "Oh."
I turned around. Everyone was crowded around the big screen TV, looking down at something I couldn't see.
"I think they're setting up my one roommate's karaoke machine," he said softly as he stepped closer to me.
Goosebumps sprung up on my arm at his nearness. "Can we run?" I asked.
"We could, but they'd find us. We're trapped in this house," he deadpanned.
"Well then," I held up my rum and Coke, "To our doom."
We bumped cups and smiled at each other. I felt myself blush.
I heard the beginning notes of
All That Jazz
from the musical
Chicago
and gazed out at the cluster of people in the living room area again.
"Ohhhhh right. Because Aiden's going to the
Chicago office
, I get it," I mused.
"Indeed," he flatly agreed.
Apparently Olivia from Marketing had missed her cue, so Tyler and Braden got up from one of the couches to make the machine restart the song.
"Hey, wasn't there a book of mine you wanted to borrow?" he asked.
I laughed. "Um, yes? If that would get me out of here."
He downed the rest of his drink and set his cup on the counter. "All my books are upstairs in my room," he stated.
I surveyed the beige-carpeted steps leading up into the darkness of the second floor.
"Hang on," I held my finger up, downed the rest of my drink, set my cup on the counter, and grimaced as Olivia started to sing off key. "Whew! Okay, lead the way."
We snaked around the kitchen counter, across the dining room area, and up the staircase. I admired him in front of me-- his shoulders and back through his t-shirt, the outline of his butt through his jeans.
The sound became mercifully muffled as we ascended the steps, the glow of the light from downstairs fading.
"Awfully dark up here," I remarked.
"Yeah, sorry, the hallway light burned out a couple months ago and none of us has bothered to get the ladder out of the garage to change it. Are you okay? Do you want to take my hand?" He stopped and turned, his palm open.
"Well, one can never be too careful." I let go of the banister and took his hand.
"This is very true," he replied. We proceeded up the stairs and down the hallway.
I couldn't recall if we had ever touched before. In our office, when people met, they rarely shook hands, it was usually just a nod or a wave.
"I remember I saw you with a Stephen King book a couple times, and you told me you were getting into him, and I don't know if you remember, but I told you I've got a few of his books you're welcome to borrow."
We approached a closed door at the end of the hallway. He let go of my hand, opened the door, and reached in to turn on the light.
"Ohhhh, I see," I said as I stepped into his room, surveying the modern-looking desk, the built-in bookshelves, the wooden dresser, the neatly made bed with a blue comforter and blue pillows.
"See what?" he asked, as he grabbed some crumpled clothing off the floor, tossed it in his closet, and shut the closet door.
I had thought this was a ruse to get me up to his room, but it seemed he really did want to lend me a book. I was crestfallen.
"Uh, I see that we're not being deceitful," I said slowly, "I mean, if anyone asks where we were when the karaoke started, you
really are
lending me a book."
"Yeah, why would we want to not be around for karaoke?" he shrugged and smiled in a jokingly manic way, "You just
had
to borrow a Stephen King book. It's very important to you."
I nodded emphatically. "Precisely."
"So they're all over here," he walked toward a bookshelf, "I don't have the best collection, but I've got
Gerald's Game
,
It
,
Cujo
,
Carrie
,
The Dark Half
, aaaaand I thought I had
Pet Sematary
, but maybe I lent it to someone? I don't know," he pawed at different shelves, then stopped to look at me. "Any of those interest you?"
I had been staring at his wrists, imagining what they would look like in handcuffs.
"Oh, um,
The Dark Half
, please," I said.
"Here you are," he handed it to me.
"Thanks. I liked
Misery
so much, I want to read more of his stories about writers," I muttered as I looked at the well-worn paperback and thumbed the pages.
I looked up. He was leaning on his bookcase and staring at me, his expression unreadable.
"What?" I asked.
"Your necklace," he said, pointing to my neck. "It's nice," he craned his head forward a bit, "Is that a star?"
He stepped toward me, reaching for the charm on my necklace. I took a step back.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" he said as he put his arm down.
"It's all right," I interrupted him, "I, um, we should probably get back downstairs."
"Yeah, yeah, good idea."
I turned and made my way toward his open bedroom door, my face hot. I wanted to explain that I didn't know what just happened. Something felt
wrong
somehow.
I walked a few steps outside of his bedroom and stopped in the hallway, waiting for him to turn out the light and close the door.
The darkness was soft and inviting. I could hear muffled music from the party—was that a song by
the band
Chicago?-- and see the light at the top of the staircase almost pulsing. We had to go back down there. Unless...
I drew in a sharp breath as the idea came to me.
"Let me get in front of you and you can take my hand again," he said as he walked up behind me, "I mean, if you want."
"Hang on," I said, slowly bending down to place the book on the floor against the wall.
My mind served up flashes of images I had seen on nature shows of different animals attacking their prey—a crocodile motionless in the water, then snapping its jaws down on an unsuspecting zebra; a praying mantis camouflaged and still, then springing and ensnaring a butterfly in its front legs; a snake still and coiled, then striking a mouse.
"Is everything okay?" he asked.
I turned, grabbed him by his shoulders, and shoved him against the wall to the left.
"Whoa! What the—"
"Shut up," I whispered. "Just shut up."
"Uh, okay."
I breathed in and out a few times, exhilarated, not sure what I was doing, but feeling
right
. I leaned in close.
"You're going to do what I say. You're going to follow my orders. If you don't like it, if you want it to stop, you can say...ummm..." I let out a little laugh as the notion came to me, "Wait, do you know what a safe word is?"
He smiled incredulously, but nodded.
"
Karaoke
is your safe word. Say it to me once so I know you understand."
"Karaoke," he said softly, smirking.
"Good. Good good good good good," I nodded and let go of his shoulders, then leaned in, pressing my body against him. His head was tilted downward so our noses touched. He put his hands on my lower back.
"No," I said firmly, stepping away and taking a hold of his wrists, "You keep your palms flat against the wall. You don't touch me until I say you can touch me."
"Oh, okay," he replied, a little dumbfounded, arranging his arms at his sides with his palms against the wall.
"Good boy," I whispered as I leaned back into him, enjoying the feeling of my breasts against the firmness of his chest. "Now then, what the fuck was that in there?"
"Um, what the fuck was what where?" he asked.
"The whole 'Your necklace is nice,'" I said in a mocking tone, "There was something really weird about it. Is that some bullshit corny move you use to hook up with girls?"
