What You Cost Me Ch 03

I let her sleep in my bed. I drag a blanket downstairs and set myself up on the couch with a movie playing on TV. I can't sleep in the same bed with her right now. Tara, with her long hair, long legs, eyes to die for. I often found myself staring at her full lips, wishing I could have another taste. She's quiet, soft, but like me she's cautious, and brave. She's full of an innocence that makes me want to hold her. Yet equally full of a strength that makes me sit back and admire her.

Every time I look at her I find myself repeating the same words over and over.

"I'm not gay. I'm not gay. I'm not gay."

I like men. Tall men with long six pack covered torsos, and sexy tattoos. Like Donny.

Not nineteen year old girls with cute smiles, and soft hands. Like Tara.

I stare at the TV but I'm lost in thought.

It had only been three days since I had negotiated two more months of Tara with Marcus Cale. In three days she had managed to make me want more of her. She had done nothing. No sex. And I had not asked anything of her.

We had gone shopping again two days ago. She had, in a large changing room, asked me to tell her how she looked in a pair of jeans. When I told her I didn't like them she had turned around, bent at her waist and slid the pants down her legs. I couldn't stop staring at her body. The smoothness of her skin inviting me to touch her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Hey, you okay?" Donny sits next to me on the couch. I make room for him to lie next to me and cuddle into him when he does.

"I'm fine."

But he knows otherwise.

"It's about that girl."

It's not a question.

"What are you even doing with her?" He asks.

"I don't know. I don't want her with them. They'll hurt her."

"Well, he's got hella other slaves. You can't save everybody. You know that."

"But I have the opportunity to save somebody."

"Is that what you think is going on here? You're saving her?"

"I guess. You don't think so?"

"Marcus said she'll stab you in the back."

"Marcus could be wrong."

He gives me a look out the corner of his eye.

"Do you still feel bad for Trina?"

Trina was a brilliant girl we went to middle school with. She ditched freshman year and we caught her working the streets. I had wanted to save her then. But since those days I have seen things much worse. I had given up on saving everybody else. At least I thought I had.

"No. I feel bad for Tara."

"So it's out of pity?"

"Maybe I just care about her."

"Or..."

"No or. I like her."

"You still don't know her."

"She was here for a month."

"You spent more than half of that on work. You didn't start talking to her till the third week."

"Well this month I'll work on it."

We watch a little more of the movie. Then he says,

"Why am not enough for you?"

I can't believe he's just asked me that.

"You're like my blood. My brother."

"I don't wanna be your brother. You know that. Why don't you want me?"

"Because I think if you as a brother."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Is it because you...like...girls?"

"No. I don't."

"Oh. Okay."

In my mind someone says...maybe.

**************************************

My body snaps awake. I turn my head and see Tara turn and walk into the kitchen. Had she been watching me? Donny moves his leg from under mine. Had she been watching us? Doesn't matter.

I slide off the couch and stretch, then tap Donny.

"What're we doing today?"

He rolls over with a yawn.

"Marcus and DV's." He mumbles.

Marcus Cale.

I still don't know how I'm gonna kill him.

Tara sits at the table in the kitchen, a glass of water tipping in her hands.

"You okay?" I ask. Looking directly into her eyes.

"Just bored."

"Wadda you wanna do?"

She shrugs.

"Wanna go shopping again?"

She nods.

I love shopping. Not enough that I'm a hoarder but I go every chance I get. Elmani Equay is a rather fancy place to shop. I rent out a dressing room bigger than my living room tell and Tara to knock herself out. I've already tried on all of my clothes and decided what I wanted by the time Tara comes in carrying two arm loads of clothes. She slaps them down on the bench next to me which over looks a giant mirror and miniature dressing room within the dressing room.

"The fuck is all this?" I ask. Irritated for some odd reason.

The glow in her face fades and the look of a submissive takes its place. Her head bows and her eyes swell with anticipation.

"I just mean...never mind. It's fine. Wadda ya got?"

She grabs clothes and starts to strip in front of me.

"Why don't you take em to the mini room." I tell her. I can't watch her. I don't know what I'll do.

She comes out a while later in a green shirt with these weird colored green pants.

She looks at me questioningly. She's adorable.

"Hate the pants. That shirt would look good on you in yellow."

"I hate yellow." She mumbles as she goes back into the mini room. I noticed lately how she'd been acting like her old self. Quiet and subdued.

"What's wrong with yellow?"

I hear her take a deep breath and then she says "The day my mother sold me I was wearing yellow and after I'd been..." Her breaths get heavy and I can hear her crying, voice quivering. "...after I'd been used and tossed aside, I looked at my reflection. I was bruised and bloody and that ugly yellow hoodie was hanging off my shoulders. That was the worst day of my entire life. Yellow always reminds me of all that pain and confusion that I felt."

I open the mini room door and I can't help it anymore. I take her into my arms. She bawls like a baby and turns into my embrace.

"She hated me. I thought she loved me but she hated me so much she sold me into this. I begged her and she said I should be happy to have the chance to help the rest of the family. Twenty-five thousand dollars. That's all I was worth to her." She's breaking down and I'm struggling not to cry with her. How could a mother do that to her child?

After a while the tears subside and I convince her to try on more clothes and tell me what she wants so we can get out of there.

She picks a few cute outfits and then we leave.

I took her to Moulvoy's. A restaurant owned by one of my old friends. I had helped him buy the place and furnish it and get on his feet. It was beautifully decorated in browns and blue-grays, dim lighting and sheek curtains draped across long windows. Classy.

We were seated in a corner in the back, next to a fireplace, secluded from the other customers. But it was comfortable and warm.

We must look so strange, both of us in t-shirts and jeans. But I like the food here and the calming music of the live jazz band.

She sits across from me and looks around nervously.

"You okay?"

She nods but I know she's not.

Our waiter comes and asks to take our orders.

"Can you bring us a bottle of red wine." They nod and walk off to retrieve it.

"What's wrong?" I ask her. Wanting a real answer.

"and don't tell me nothing or you're fine."

Well she is fine but...no no. Stay focused.

"Why are we here?" She asks.

"To get something to eat." I state like it's obvious but I get the feeling she means something else.

"You said there was nothing going on like...like...we're not in a relationship or whatever."

"Uh huh."

"This feels like a date." She looks past me not at me. Once again like her old self who was afraid to look people in the eye. Had my rejecting her cuddle the other night made her go back to that.

"It's not a date. We're just having dinner."

It felt like a date to me too. But I wanted to be around her. I wanted to get to know her.

"So,..." Out on a fancy dinner and all I can find to say is 'so'

She looks away again.

"Why do you keep looking away?"

She shrugs.

"You okay?"

She just nods.

"Look its not a date. I just wanna talk to you."

The waiter pours our glasses of wine.

I take a comfort sip.

"So,..."

This is getting awkward.

"Why do you live in an apartment if you have so much money?"

"Because it's easier to manage than a house. I actually have an apartment in twelve different cities. It's easier than having a house. Or houses."

"Oh." Is all she says.

"May I take your order?"asks our waiter.

"Umm..." she looks a little longer at her menu. "...The scalloped potatoes and steak."

"You like steak?" Duh she ordered it.

"Yeah. My dad used to make it all the time. He made it the best. After he died I compared everyone's steak to his. No one has ever topped him."

The waiter and I share a look.

"And for you ma'am?"

"I'll have the seafood special. And tell the chef I want extra sauce."

"Yes ma'am."

And the boy hurries off.

"He's doing a good job so far." I comment.

"Reminds me a little of myself when I had my first job." Tara says.

"How so?"

"Because he cares what people think right now. He's eager to please"

"Well it's his job. If he wants to keep it he better be."

"You don't have to be."

"How long did you last at Burger King?" I ask jokingly.

"Umm actually it was McDonalds. And three and a half weeks."

I can't help the little chuckle.

"That's it?! Three and a half weeks. Wow. I had my first job for almost a year before I quit."

She smiles a little then asks, "Why'd you quit?"

"I found something better." I say honestly. Dealing made me twice the money I made in two weeks in two days.

Somehow without me even saying it she knows what I meant.

"How old were you when you started?"

"Seventeen."

"Wow. Did you like it?"

"I love it."

"Did you ever get caught?"

"Hell yeah. Until I got good."

"And it never bothered you morally?"

"No." I say, but it's a lie. And the look she gives me tells me she sees right through it. But she doesn't press.

Our waiter returns with two large plates of food. He drops her potatoes and steak in front of her and my seafood special in front of me. Then he asks if we'll need anything else. I tell him we don't and he heads off.

Once when I was in high school this modeling company had rented out a section of the beach for a photo shoot. There was a guy that had been my age, posing in swimming trunks, shin deep in the ocean. He was tall, built perfectly with soft muscles in all the right places. His eyes were hazel, the color of them making the smooth brown of his skin look majestic. He had a strong jaw that surrounded full lips, and a perfect nose to top him off. It had been early in the morning and I stood right next to their crew that day. I watched him strike pose after pose of pure godliness. No doubt I thought he was the sexiest thing in the world.

But I was wrong.

Tara digging into an uncut steak is the sexiest thing in the world.

She was tugging at it, holding it with both hands, and her eyes, those sexy explosions of green, blue, grey and hazel squinted in pure bliss as the taste overwhelmed her senses. I was lost. My own food was getting cold but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She pulled away to chew, juice dripping down her chin and drops of steak sauce rolling over her wrists. I wanted to kiss away the juice on her face. Lick her lips.

She went in for another bite. I locked my sights on her lips, stretching up and over perfect teeth to cut into the steak. I watched them sink in, imagining what they would feel like sinking into the flesh of my shoulder as I made her cum like a train wreck. I let my eyes travel up to hers to find that she's already staring back at me. We are stuck in that moment. Because I can't look away. And she doesn't.

"You gonna eat?" She asks around a mouthful of food.

"Yeah." I hear myself mumbling. But I still don't look away.

She smiles and let's out a small giggle.

"What?" I ask her, curious.

"You just keep staring at me."

I blink to clear the images in my head.

I look away. Down at my food with the lobster stretched across my plate, floating in a crab stew. The sauce of choice.

The fork next to me goes to work as I dig in.

It's so good I barely suppress a moan. My eyes flutter closed and I chew almost in slow motion.

When I do finally open my eyes its to see Tara staring at me. Her eyes effecting her expression in a way I can't quite decipher. This time I laugh. She returns it with a small smile.

"What?"

"You keep staring at me." I say, repeating her words.

Her smile grows.

"Is the lobster good?"

In answer I scoop up a bite with my fork. Then before I give a second thought, I lean across the table to slip my fork between her lips. She chews it slowly, staring into my eyes the entire time. A deep breath reverberates through her chest as she swallows.

"You like it?" I ask, knowing the answer.

She just nods.

We talk more about her likes and things that make her happy and things that don't. She likes hanging out with me. That makes her happy. I smile at that. I make her happy.

I ask her more about her childhood.

"My mother used to buy us kites. I hated them so I'd get em stuck in trees and stuff. But she kept thinking they were accidents so she kept buying new ones." She laughs at that.

"Us?" I ask, reffering to her earlier use of the word.

"Yeah. I had a brother."

The look in her eyes says don't ask further questions.

"Me too." I tell her, not really wanting to talk about mine either.

"Older or younger?"

"Older." I say.

"Mine was younger." Again her eyes get sad.

I need to change the subject.

"What do you want for dessert?" I see both of us are nearly done our food.

"You."

She mumbles it. She's not looking at me so maybe I wasn't supposed to hear it. But I do. And it makes my blood run hot. My heart beats faster and my breathing is labored. Eyeing her body, her lips, this goddess. God, I want her too.

But I settle for mumbling back in just as low of a tone.

"That's not on the menu."

Her head snaps up like she's surprised I heard her and her cheeks go red with the cutest blush.

"There's alot of pies and cakes. Different kinds of ice cream. What do you want?"

She looks at the dessert menu.

"I want to go home." She says.

She doesn't want dessert from a place that just gave her the best steak ever.

I stare at her a while then just say 'okay' and ask for the check.

When we get in the car the sun has already set and the darkness reminds me of shit I don't want to think of when I'm with Tara. How many things gone wrong in the dark. How many people go missing, show up again, dead.

Not with Tara. But I've already started to think about it. Usually in the dark I have Donny or somebody. A guard. I'd be able to see past those painful memories. But sitting next to someone twice as vulnerable as I am doesn't help at all.

We sit in the car a while. I jus let it run while I get myself together. Tara didn't say anything. Is she mad about the dessert thing.

I put the car in drive and pull out of the restaurant parking lot.

Her silence is killing me.

"Did you like dinner?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong?" I ask, half expecting her to answer 'yes'.

"Nothing."

Again, silence.

I turn on the radio to fill the car with noise.

Paramore blasts across my speakers.

Ain't it fun...living...in the...real world...

I find myself singing along and elbowing Tara to join in.

The first few time she just looks at me from the corner of her eye. But then I sing louder and she smiles that smile.

And she sings.

Her voice is softer than mine.

Prettier, smoother.

I try to focus on the road and not the girl next to me but she is distracting.

I'm not gay. I'm not gay. I'm not gay...

**************************************

When we get home the whole crew is in the living room looking some kind of way.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Donny pushes through them.

"Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?!"

"Calm the fuck down!" I yelled. I'm captain of this fucking ship. I pulled my phone from my pocket. It's dead.

"My phone's dead. I didn't get any calls."

"Well you had us worried shitless. Mavlo just killed half of the north wing boys in a shoot out. Didn't know where you were. You said you'd be back by five."

"My plans changed. I'm good."

Mavlo. A DV leader. Killing my boys.

I turned to Larry.

"Gather up a team. We know where he is. Take him out."

He stands and says "Yes ma'am. One problem. Robbie. Means we're one short."

"Then replace him."

"And bring him here?"

"Yeah." I say. "But if he isn't decent I'll kill him too."

Larry nods then heads out and I send Mike with him. I never send one goon at a time. He might start to think about his own power and leave the group. More than one makes them keep an eye on each other and reminds them that they are part of a team.

Tara follows me upstairs and into my bedroom. She still looks sullen and ays nothing when I ask her about it. I gather my clothes and head to the bathroom to shower. I've just finished rinsing shampoo from my hair, my head thrown back, water running over my curls, eyes closed. When I feel a body, her body, press into the front of mine. Her naked ass resting against my mound.

I have died. I must be dead.

I turn my body sideways to rest against the shower wall.

She follows me, keeping our skin touching.

"What are you doing?" I mumble trying to keep my hands to my side.

"Come on Rose. Please. We haven't touched each other for weeks. I want you. Please."

She throws her head back, her cheek resting against my neck.

"I don't remember touching you." I mumble, struggling.

I'm not gay.

"I remember you kissing me." Her voice is so sexy. "And I remember kissing you back."

I'm not gay.

She pulls my hands around her. Cups them and softly places them over the smooth skin of her breasts.

I'm hyperventilating, my eyes close and I give her globes a gentle squeeze.

She sighs. And I turn to kiss her neck, her throat. She looks up at me, something in her eyes tell me to kiss her. So I do. I press my lips to hers. Soft and slow at first. Then I can't take anymore and slip my tongue into her mouth. The water of the shower pours over our bodies as I claim her lips, my palms massaging her tits.

But...I'm not gay.

I push her off. Take a step back. Grab my towel to wrap around my overheated body and walk out of the bathroom and into my room.

She doesn't come in until I'm already dressed and slipping into bed. She walks in naked.

I'm not gay. I'm not gay.

She slips on one of my sports bras and a pair of my boy shorts. No panties. Then she slides in next to me.

At first she keeps her distance but after a few minutes she cuddles into my side.

"Can I touch you?" She asks.

"No, Tara."

"Please. I don't want you to touch me back but...I'm kinda going through withdrawals."

I almost laugh.

"What do you wanna do?" I ask in a shy whisper.

In answer she slides down my body and reaches her hand into my pants. I shiver as it reaches the waistband of my panties and pulls.

She slides them down my thighs, my calves, until they rest on my ankles.

Then she crawls between my legs.

She doesn't start immediately. She waits a while until I squirm a little.

Then she breaths over my clit. By this time I must be dripping. Finally I feel the tip of her tongue, warm and soft right at my opening, piercing through my golden gate.

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding and it comes out as a moan. She stays soft as she penetrates me so slowly as to be painful. By the time I'm grasping at the sheets and trying not to ruin the moment with rushed reactions, she's only got the tip of her tongue in. Finally I can't take anymore and I flex my hips toward he face. Somehow that sets her off because as soon as I make the movement she pushes her face into my overheating pussy. Her tongue slides all the way through and her upper lip grazes the soft flesh just beneath my clit. I stiffle another moan and settle for clenching my muscles and yanking on the bed sheets. She flexes her tongue inside of me, swelling it then moving in circles. Her lips suck on my slit as she bobs her head. My hands release the sheets to grasp at her long curls instead.