With every step Leon took to get to the top of his basement staircase, he had to talk himself out of running back down them and finishing what he started with Viola. Finally at the top, he stood in the kitchen. Without thinking, he paced to the sink and turned the faucet on cold, placed his hands underneath the cascading water and threw some in his face. With a sharp breath in, he proceeded to do this again and again.
The freezing droplets fell from his chin and into the double sink beneath him. The water did nothing to remove Viola's consuming scent from him. With each inhalation, he was reminded of her wanton licks and moans against his neck. Every movement of her tongue against his skin sent electrifying currents through his body, increasing his heartbeat and rushing blood through every vein. The only thing that seemed to quicken more than his heart was his pulsating shaft, that was still continuing to strain and ache for release.
God, how he wanted to rip the rest of her clothing off and take her down there. He'd been teetering on the edge of losing complete control from the moment he ran his hands against the smooth stockings on her thighs and ass, the stockings he then proceed to rend from her body. Shutting his eyes and taking in a deep breath he thought to himself,
don't think about that right now. Regain composure.
He did not want their first intimate encounter to end with him mindlessly screwing her like some depraved animal. Deep down he feared he would not enjoy it as much if his mind was not focused and all senses sharp.
Calm at last, he turned the water off and lifted his head to stare outside the window in front of him. From this view he could see the walkway on the side of his house leading to the backyard, decorated with mounds of half melted snow. The thicket of trees and bushes that ran parallel with the walkway had no leaves and no sign that any were going to grow soon. This picture was illuminated by soft pinks and oranges coming from the setting sun.
Leon looked over his shoulder to clock on the microwave, it read 6:32 p.m.
She wasted over twelve hours of the day blacked out...
Leon was able to bring her to his home at about 4:00 a.m. this morning after watching her get intoxicated downtown. It was not the first night he had seen her get out of control or speak to her...
Despite her fleeting memory...
But it was the first and only time he ever stepped in and did something.
After working late, Leon headed over to the bar across the street from his office. It was the only bar he frequented downtown and for whatever reason it was one of Viola's night haunts as well. She sauntered in around 10:00 p.m., already a little tipsy, and threw back drinks until closing time.
During the evening, Leon observed her from the other side of the bar. For four hours he nursed and sipped a total of two drinks, but ended up losing count of how many shots and cocktails she had. When the bartender yelled "Last call," Viola immediately got up and clumsily ran for the bar, knocking chairs over in the process. The bartender finally gained some good sense and cut her off.
Took him long enough.
The next events were embarrassing for Leon to watch (and to rethink). Viola began to throw a fit for being denied another drink and even knocked glasses off of the bar counter. The bartender was getting ready to throw her out on her ass when Leon stepped in. He grabbed her arm and said that he'd take care of her. At first she threw out obscenities to both of the men, but then, as if she was a child who found a long lost friend, she smiled at Leon and said "Oh hey! It's you!"
Her recollection of him, and greeting him in a bright manner, helped dull the shame he felt for claiming a belligerent drunk. He loved it when she smiled at him. Leon felt himself softening at the thought of her full pouty lips curling at both ends, lifting the muscles in her face to show off her impressive high cheekbones and dark sloe eyes. She was without a doubt stunning, but sadly all her beauty was beginning to be watered down with her heavy drinking.
He began cursing Viola for her excessive alcoholism.
Why does she have to be so irresponsible? So unrefined? So...
Irresistible to him? Everything about her enthralled his senses from the moment he first saw her almost a year ago. Back when she'd only show up to the bar at best once a week and behaved more genteel.
Back when she had a job...
Thinking about that made him sympathize for her. If what she had told him about her situation was true (she was drunk of course when they spoke of it), then he could see why she was running for the bottle.
But no more of that and no more of her impetuous behavior. She was his now, and Leon was going to take care of her.
And in return she'll take care of me.
He desired her fiercely and desperately wanted to enact all of the sexual fantasies he had once shared with her. It had been a couple of weeks ago since he accidently revealed some of his deep, dark erotic wishes to her during a whispered conversation at the bar. Leon had no intention of doing so, but in a rare instance he had consumed too much alcohol, developed impaired judgment, and completely lost the filter between his thoughts and vocals.
After the words left his mouth, he expected her to recoil from him. He was sure she was drinking too, so he expected her to slur the words "pervert" and "freak" at him as well. Leon expected her to react the same way every other girl or ex-girlfriend did when he shared this, but no. To his surprise and delight Viola's response was a cute smile and "Sounds fun. Wish a guy would do that stuff with me."
He put his fist to his forehead.
Why hadn't I tried to sleep with her that night?
Because he was completely taken aback by her response and didn't know how to proceed.
Why can't she remember that conversation now?
Because he underestimated how much she had drank that night.
Why did I even bother bringing her to my home?
Because he'd surely go mad from desire if he had to go to bed one more night fantasizing about her and fucking his fist until release.
You're too far gone now, no turning back. Might as well enjoy her.
Viola was here and at this point he could not let her go without repercussions. He should not feel shame about this. After all, if he had not stepped in last night she would have been thrown out into the cold, completely incoherent. He doubted she would have made it to her home safely. No, surely someone would have found her passed out in the gutter somewhere and would be doing much worse to her at this very moment.
Wish some guy would do that stuff with me.
She was practically inviting him. Leon was calm again and resolved with his next course of action. He looked down at the water residue left in the sink bowl and onto his soaked shirt. He smirked at his new, fun idea.
* * *
Just as the pain began to diminish, the doorknob turned. Viola's body shot through with anxiety, making her rise from the bed and stand wobbly on both feet before it. When the man... Leon, walked through the door, she noticed that he had changed clothes into a simple white t-shirt and navy jeans. His hair was no longer neatly combed back, the silky straight chocolate brown locks stood up disorderly around his head, some even falling upon his forehead. Looking closer, it seemed his hair was a little damp.
What? Did he take a cold shower or something?
She wanted to laugh at that, but then began to remember how not so long ago her own pussy was growing wetter with every lick against his neck. She turned her head to hide her blushing.
I could use one now too.
Leon closed the door and leaned up against it. Large, well-muscled arms folded over his broad chest, his ankles crossed in unison. She managed to look up at his face and found it to be phlegmatic. Viola remained silent, expecting him to say something first. Seconds past, but it felt like minutes quickly turning into hours. She did not like his aloof attitude. It felt all-consuming and claustrophobic in this tiny room, making it difficult to breathe.
They continued to stand in silence. She now fixed her gaze and began to analyze what she could about the man in front of her. Arms crossed: he's either feeling defensive or he's relaxed. His identically crossed ankles and leaned body suggest that he's comfortable, but his clenched jaw and piercing stare says he is pissed.
Growing up, Viola seemed to have a gift for scanning people's emotions and reading body language. At age nineteen, she and a friend bumped into a street psychic and on a whim decided to have palm readings. During Viola's turn, the old gypsy-like woman called her an empath and began going on a tirade about her being able to feel auras and energies and blah, blah, blah. Back then at nineteen (and currently at twenty-four) Viola did not believe in all that psychic shit. She did however like the term "empath." For whatever reason it did not seem as self-righteous as declaring "I'm a good judge of character" or as ignorant as saying "I'm street smart."
Taking in a breath, she decided to break this perpetual silence. "Okay Leon, we need to..."
"What did I say about calling me by my name?" His body did not move, but she noticed a muscle in his jaw twitch right before he cut her off.
Okay, so he's more pissed than relaxed.
She rolled her eyes and replied, "Why tell me your name if you don't want me to call you it?"
This only intensified his glare at her. "You can call me by my first name when I feel like you earned it, which will be when you calm your virago behavior."
"Ver-ti-go? What the hell does that have to...?"
He was losing patience, "Vir-a-go, or as you would crudely put it: bitch."
"Bitch?" The word spat out of her mouth. "Who the fuck do you think you are calling me a 'bitch?'"
She was not really mad at being called a "bitch" by him: ever since puberty she had a crass and smart-ass mouth on her, so she was used to it. Some would even say she wore it as a badge of honor. Her car in high school even had a bumper sticker on it that read "You Say I'm a Bitch Like It's a Bad Thing." No, what she was more enraged about was him correcting her and having to explain a word to her. She hated feeling like a moron.
I don't have a degree and fifty-thousand dollars worth of student loans for nothing, God damn it!
An exasperated sigh left his lips. "And you only continue to prove my point."
Viola decided to give up the fight and sat down on the bed. When her bottom made contact with the mattress, a sharp pain shot up through every nerve on her ass. At the initial sting, she let out a small yelp and jumped up slightly. A snicker came from Leon, still positioned against the door. It seemed to soften his face slightly and relaxed her enough to sit back down, slowly this time. "What's your deal anyway?"
Any hint of a smile vanished from his face, leaving an angry and slightly bemused look. "Excuse me?"
"Why am I here? Why are you doing this?" The more time she spent around him the more confident she was that he was not going to kill her, but she also grew more positive that he was not going to let her go anytime soon. So she at least wanted to know why. "You said we met before, right? Was it last night?"
"No it was a couple of weeks ago." He managed to break his gaze from her and turned his head to the side.
He seemed embarrassed at admitting this.
But why?
"Can you help me remember that night? I really can't right now."
Leon's eyes returned to her. "If you can't remember that night, than that's your problem. Maybe if you weren't such a lush, you wouldn't have so many blacked out memories." She opened her mouth to answer back, but he was not having it. "Anyway, as I said before: I am trying to help you. Do not make me repeat myself again."
Viola attempted to push all her vexation down. "I am getting so tired of you not answering my questions and talking down to me like you're a teacher and I'm a student in school or something."
His cocky smiled returned, "A fitting analogy. I guess you are grasping things better than you're letting on."
The only response she could think of was an open mouth.
