Leave The Night On Pt 03

I have zero excuses for the forever it took me to write this (except that I stay for hours on a single paragraph, searching for words). I am shameless.

Thing is, it takes me a lot of time, coffee, wine, and creative outbursts (those are hard to come by and easy to lose) to write these things.

Please, forgive any mistakes. My brain is wired in Portuguese.

I don't deserve you, dear reader. I'm terribly unreliable. Nevertheless, I WILL DEFINITELY keep on writing. Even if it takes me a million years to finish anything I start.

I've tried to redeem myself by making this chapter longer.

Enjoy it, darlings!

XOXO,

Your I'm-so-sorry-I'm-a-slow-writer, Nana.

***

***

3

PEARL

"YOU'VE BEEN A BAD GIRL, MY PEARL."

"Yes. I'm a bad, bad girl."

"I'll have to punish you." Julian's voice is a hazy, sexy promise in my ear.

He's on top of me, pinning me down to his enormous bed; his knees bracketing my hips. My eyes stay on him as he ties my wrists to the headboard with a dish towel. He's shirtless, his chest is a glorious expanse of hard muscles and smooth skin. My body is laid bare for him, awaiting on his whim. He trails long fingers down my stomach creating sparkles that kindle a fire way down below. I press my legs together and feel the moisture coating my inner thighs. Without prolonging my agony, he leans over me and touches his mouth, warm and wet, to my skin. Feather light kisses along my jaw and neck give rise to goose bumps all over. I shiver, and down he goes. My aching breasts catch his eyes. He flips one tender nipple between his thumb and index finger then he falls, open-mouthed, over it like a starved man. I squirm and beg him, "Please".

He comes up to me, nibbles on my bottom lip. "Say my name."

"Julian," I purr.

"Pearl."

"Hmmm, yes."

"Pearl!"

His voice is closer, too sweet. "Julian?"

"

Wake up

!"

I jolt awake. "What? What?" Disoriented, I wipe some drool from the corner of my mouth. I'm not sure where I am. "What is it?"

Lil's green eyes are two glistening marbles staring right at me. "It's Mallory."

I blink. Twice. Again. "Mallory???"

"He's lying on a pool of his own drool, and won't move. I don't know what to do, Pearl. Our vet isn't answering her phone. Can you call your guy? Please."

I might be half asleep. Julian's lips are still a vivid dream on my skin. "What?"

"We need a vet, Pearl! Call him, please." Lil's voice is panicky enough to shake sleep off of me.

I fight my sheets on my way out of bed. On morning weak legs, I wobble to the living room. Mal is lying on the floor. His little chest is rising and falling rapidly and his limbs are stiff. He doesn't move his head, as he usually does, when I call his name. The scent of his urine is pungently dominating the air. Panic seizes me immediately. I return to my room, in search of my phone.

It's too early in the morning to be calling Julian. We're not really in the calling phase of whatever it is we have, but I dial his number anyway, praying he'll be available.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

In answer to my mental chanting, he picks up on the third ring. "Pearl?" The unexpectedness of my call is clear by his voice.

"Hi," I say. "I need your help."

He's over in less than one hour.

"How long has he been like this?" Julian, as a surreal presence in my home, asks Lil, pressing his fingers to our sick cat's abdomen.

"I just got home and found him like this. He was fine earlier this morning," Lil tells him, with anguished eyes on Mal. I pull her in for a hug. She loves that cat. We all do.

Mal utters a weak meow as Julian flashes a light in each of his eyes. It's my first time meeting this professional side of him. His face is distant and pensive as he touches the stethoscope to the cat's little chest. There's a tiny concentration crease in between his slashing brows. Watching him is entrancing. He's so serious, he seems nothing like the quirky, fast-tongued man I'm getting used to.

"What's wrong with him, Julian?" I ask, biting on my nails with concern.

He removes the stethoscope earpieces with a sigh. "He's intoxicated."

"By what?" Lil and I both ask, astonished.

"Most likely, one of these plants." He looks around himself, to the miniature indoors jungle Lil's arranged in the loft.

"That's not possible", Lil objects, and I detect a tinge of offense in her voice. "I take care to get non-toxic plants only."

"It's true. Lil's a botanist," I say.

"Those azaleas?" He points to the flowers on a jar over the kitchen sink that, somehow, neither Lil nor I had noticed before.

"They weren't there yesterday," she says.

"They're Melanie's." All three of us turn in the direction of the new voice. Cami strides into the room wearing only a t-shirt that barely covers her skinny ass. "Asshole boyfriend brought them last night," she says, bypassing Lil and I. She shots a wide smile at Julian. "Hi there, you."

He darts me an amused glance. He's clearly guessed which one of my roommates she is; I gave him a faithful description. "Julian, this is Camille. Cami, Julian."

Her beautiful face brightens. "Oh! It's fabulous to finally meet you, Julian. Pearly Girl here can't shut up about you." My eyes pop out of their sockets. I throw Cami a look that I hope conveys to her how much I wish I could twist her tongue with the power of my mind right now.

Julian flashes her a victorious grin, way too pleased with himself. "Pleasure is all mine, Camille."

"So, how's our prince?" She asks, averting her attention to Mal.

The residue of Julian's little smile is still in evidence when he answers Cami, addressing all three of us. "I'll need to run some tests. He needs to be hydrated and put on atropine straightaway, which is why I need your permission to take him with me so I can monitor him for a couple of days. However, the prognostic is good. With some rest and a little medication, he's going to be fine."

All of us girls exhale our relief audibly. Lil approaches Julian and takes his hand on hers. She's on the verge of tears. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

His coffee eyes regard her with tenderness. Inside, I go warm and gooey like Belgian hot chocolate. "I'm only doing my job," he says, kindly. "I'm glad I'm able to help Mal. Just make sure none of you get anymore azaleas."

With a promise to never allow any toxic flower to even breathe the same air as the cat, the girls leave to prepare Mal's things. On their conspicuous absence, I take the chance I'm given to show Julian how thankful

I am

for his solicitude. He came all the way here at 8 AM on a Sunday because I called him for help. And he, very likely, just saved one of our prince's lives. Plus, he looks so hot in this veterinarian skin of his I want to see if sassy Julian is buried somewhere underneath all that professionalism.

"Hey," I say, touching his arm. He glances down at me, a corner of his mouth curves up as he reads my intentions. I throw a quick look over my shoulder and, when I'm certain the girls aren't around, glue my body flush against his, tilting my head up. Smiling presumptuously, he bends down in answer to my plea and his lips are heaven on mine. Everything in me goes soft and pliant. I let out an agonizing grunt of relief. Feels like the last time I kissed him was eons ago. My tongue traces his bottom lip, and my reward is a low, delicious sound of pleasure from him. He opens his mouth to let me in, and the inpouring of desire from him revives the memory of my dream. I remember there's a pulsing wetness in between my legs. I could lose my mind any second here. I pull away while I still have it in me to resist him. "Thank you," I whisper in a trembling voice that betrays me.

His eyes glitter with mischief. "You're welcome." I revel in the lascivious sweep of his eyes over me. My body has just decided it wants more of him when the girls pussyfoot back into the room.

Pretending well at not noticing anything, Lil hands Julian a bag with Mal's stuff. "How much-"

He puts his free palm up. "It's nothing."

My heart leaps in my chest. It's the second time in the span of three minutes. It cannot be healthy. "What?"

Is he seriously suggesting he won't charge for his services?

"Your money's no good to me," he says, his intonation hinting the topic isn't up for discussion.

"It's Lil's and Cami's money too," I insist. "Take theirs, at least. Please."

"Yeah, we insist." Lil joins me in convincing him.

He shakes his head at us, dropping that sexy half-crooked grin that has my panties in serious risk of getting drenched. "I came as a favor to Pearl. I can't accept your money."

"Awn, aren't you lovely!" Cami exclaims, being as indecorous as ever. "Way to go, Pearly Girl! You get a boyfriend and Mallory gets a free doctor as a bonus!"

"Camille!" I berate her. I love her, but I swear, this woman is a social hazard.

Julian won't hear a thing about receiving money for doing his job. Lil, tired of arguing, says a million

thank-yous

with a silent promise to worship him forever. Cami says her goodbyes in the way of inappropriate comments. It's a general consensus that decides I'm the one who should accompany him to his car. That, and the girls practically pushing me down the stairs with Mallory in his plastic carrier. Outside the building, Julian sets the cat safely on the passenger side, seatbelt and all.

"I'm very grateful you came. Truly," I tell him once more, for good measure.

"Of course. Call me anytime you need and I'll come."

I bite back a smile. Somehow, I know he doesn't just mean anytime my cat is sick. The urge to kiss him assaults me again. His nearness does things to me. There's precious little I'm capable of doing other than desiring to be right up against him.

It's borderline surreal that he's here, in my home. Particularly after the nights we spent together, on his couch, talking until the dawn was threatening to break. This kind of connection we're forming is new ground for me. I'm still not sure how to proceed from this new level of intimacy. I clear my throat. "How's Hannah?"

As expected, the mention of his daughter brightens him up. "She's great. She's at my mom's. We're having lunch there today."

"That's nice," I say, and then I run out of words and my hands can't find an occupation.

"So," he says, breaking the tension that's only on my side. "Let's talk about my payment now."

I pull up a face. "You said you didn't want any."

"No. I said your money was no good. I never said I didn't want any kind of payment from

you

."

"Oh." Understanding hits me right in my southern regions. "And how do you suggest I pay you?"

He sways closer. He is wickedness with every step. "Come over this Friday. You skipped our last dinner."

There's that familiar ambiguity to his words. So far, we've had a whole month of Friday night dinners and in only one of those, the first one, did I give myself permission to act on my desires. There hasn't been much more than endless kissing and some violent groping after dessert. Every time we started something, we stopped just when it was starting to get dangerously good. His invitation contains a multitude of innuendos. He could very well be saying

"Come over me this Friday"

. Then again, he might not be implying anything at all. I'm not the only one holding things back here.

"Yeah, sorry. I told you I had a thing." It's a true answer. I didn't go into details when I told him I couldn't meet him for dinner last Friday. What we have, whatever it is, doesn't warrant for the sharing of messed up personal drama.

His eyes narrow on my face for a scrutinizing moment. I am made of glass transparent. I start to fear he might be seeing every naughty thing I've ever done in my life. Finally, he says, "I'll be waiting for you. Any time after lunch."

"Oh. After lunch. Okay." I'm reeling from his invitation to spend a whole half day at his place. I could watch him prepare me a whole meal. That must be one hell of a sight. "Oh, shoot! My car's broken," I say, remembering my old car had to be towed last Friday.

"I'll pick you up." He offers a solution so fast it's like he was expecting me to find an excuse not to go. "Four okay?"

Honestly, I want to spend a lot of time with him. Lately, I've been living life in a constant state of anxiousness, just waiting for the week to end. "Four is perfect. Can't wait for it."

"Come here." He pulls me into him, backs me up against the door of his truck. He touches his lips to my ear and whispers, "You look so fucking sexy, My Pearl. Is this what you sleep in?" As if to highlight his meaning, his fingers curl under my satin nightgown.

We're standing on the sidewalk. Anyone could walk by and witness me getting fingered. I realize I don't care. Once it dawned on me how sick Mal looked, changing into something more prudent couldn't have been further from my mind. Now, I was hyper-aware of my state. The silk, cool fabric of my nightgown made my pebbled nipples painfully obvious. "Usually, I sleep in nothing," I tease, breathlessly.

"Really? What's under here then?" Julian's hand travels further north my legs. My lungs stop working.

Those fucking smart fingers of his

. I press my thighs together, trapping his hand between them. We both know what he'll find if that hand goes any higher. He chuckles against my neck, sending an electric current down my center. "You know,

nothing

would actually facilitate my life. We could skip the undressing part so I could get right into fucking you so hard you'd get addicted."

"

Yes

." My answer is a pitiful moan. I love the bold familiarity in his words. He sounds as though we're fucking already when, in truth, the last time we touched each other like that we were virtually strangers.

"Remember how good I fuck you?"

God, yes.

My insides tense with the power of a memory that still affects me physically. Irrationally, I bring his mouth to mine with a hand on his nape. The moment our mouths connect I relinquish control to him. His kiss is possessive. The kind that drags moans out of me with every sweep and push of his tongue. The kind I wish would never end. He draws back and I lean into him, wanting more. He weaves his fingers through my curls, his hand strong and steady keeps my head tilted up to his. "When you kiss me like this, you give me filthy ideas."

"You only have filthy ideas," I say, batting away the hand threatening me between my thighs.

"About you. Exclusively."

Oh.

Exclusively.

That's a weird word to throw at the Universe. He doesn't seem to notice the fleeting widening of my eyes. Recovering in record time, I smile like an idiot up at him. He's so handsome it's that easy. "Kiss me again before you go." And, Dear Lord, does he kiss me.

Leaving me wobbly-legged and sexually frustrated, Julian gets in his car and drives away. I watch him leave and wait a solid minute before going up to face the wave of comments sure to come from my girlfriends. I climb the stairs slowly, still feeling my lips tingling from Julian's kiss. When I open the door to the loft, Cami and Lil are both sitting on the edge of the couch, like two kids waiting up for Santa.

"What?" I inquire, playing dumb.

Cami, as usual, is the first to talk. "Sweet baby Jesus on a popsicle, was that your guy, Pearly?! He is hot. Like, wow in your face hot. If I liked them with a penis, I'd do him in a heartbeat!"

"Yep," Lil agrees with a vigorous nod of her red head. "I can just imagine a guy like that having a pretty dick."

"Now it all makes sense. I'd be stupid happy too if a guy like that made me dinner every week," Cami says.

"Oh!" Lil turns excited eyes to our most obnoxious roommate. "She was having a sex dream about him!"

Cami shrieks. I gasp. I'm dignified enough to put a hand to my chest. "No, I wasn't!" I protest, mortified. Because I was indeed having such a dream and I was flat out loving it.

My best friend regards me with her

'don't bullshit me'

eyes. "You called me Julian. You were drooling even."

I ignore Lil's last sentence. "Is that what the two of you were thinking about while he was downstairs? His dick?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Lil nods.

Cami lifts a hand. "I was."

"Shut up, you two."

***

JULIAN

I'M MENTALLY REVISITING MY PAST GIRLFRIENDS

, looking for someone who might've reacted to me the same way Pearl does. She hides nothing in the way her eyes appraise me. She lays her attraction so bare, it's an effort not to be drunk on this wild newfound power I seem to have over her. When I focus on her lips, I see how her breathing becomes irregular. When I touch her, I see how her skin warms, brightening slightly. When I kiss her, she's the one to lose control first, and faster. And when I draw away, she leans into me, pleading for more.

From the first moment I met her, her transparency was obvious. The right word from me could have her wet. That's part of what drew me to her, beyond the physical connection. She's honest and direct. Which is why I'm puzzled by the fact she's just lied to me about her reason for missing our last Friday.

Our arrangement for Friday nights has been working better than I anticipated for the past month. We get along, as I already knew he would. We enjoy each other's company. Pearl loves my cooking. I love her random musings on whatever may be on her mind. She seems to enjoy asking me questions to pick my brains on matters I wouldn't usually consider by myself. There are those conversations in which Hannah always sneaks in as a subject, and Pearl seems to understand her in ways I used to think were a privilege of mine. Those are the talks that frighten me and force me to sway the mood either into the physical or into a silence that incites Pearl to be the one initiating make out sessions.

I pull up into my mother's driveway still thinking of my daughter's teacher. I circle around the house my parents bought after their retirement to come into the kitchen through the back door. Hannah's dog barks at me, indignant for being left in the backyard. My mother might love Hannah better than anything in this world, yet no amount of love would convince her to allow a dog indoors.

In her kitchen, my mother is already setting apart the ingredients for the lunch that's still five hours away. When I was a kid, lunch was always half ready by the time I had finished my breakfast. Once upon a time, she had three men to feed. Now she's still doing things the same way even though she has no one except herself to set the table for, most days.

By the force of nature that binds me to her, I go straight to my kid. She's perched on a stool that's way too tall for her. Her legs are dangling in the air while she sips on Yakult. I kiss her forehead. "Hey, baby."

Hannah lifts her eyes to me and, for an eerie moment, I'm staring back into my own eyes. "Is Miss Jones' cat okay, Daddy?"

"He's a little down, Han," I say. The kid's concern for Pearl's cat was so endearing, she was almost accompanying me to the consult. "I came to warn you actually. I'm taking him home with me now to help him get better."

She gives me a solid nod of agreement. "Good, Daddy." No one in this world will ever put their faith in me as much as this kid does. She believes I can save the planet if the need arises.

A comforting sound of shuffling fast feet announces my mother's presence. "

Jae-Woo

!" She always calls me by my Korean given name. I don't know why she went to the trouble of giving Henry and I western names she has never used to address us.

"

Umma

." I greet her with a kiss on her cheek. I have to bend half my body to do it. By her size alone, one could never guess at the things she's had to do to survive. Or how hard she's had to work.