Текст книги "Wet"

Автор книги: Ruth Clampett

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Lourdes and my second date is just as surreal because we go to see a movie and after several failed attempts where she pulls away from me, she finally lets me hold her hand. I feel like I’m back in junior high.

When she calls me a couple of days later to invite me to dinner at her place I’m surprised. I’m not exactly excited about seeing her but decide there’s no harm in one more attempt to see if there’s anything between us. Dating is such a novel concept in my life. It’s sure a lot of work but it seems to pay off for plenty of people. I figure I shouldn’t give up so easy.

Saturday I take a shower and shave before changing into clean clothes, then stop at the florist and buy a bouquet of flowers.

Lourdes answers the door wearing a black dress that has lace running up her neck and down her arms. Through the lace covering her wrist I spot not just the cross tattoo peeking out, but an identical one on her other wrist. She looks particularly pale tonight, with porcelain skin and soft red lips. Her hair is pulled up and I realize that everything’s just more ramped up than our last dates. After taking the flowers with a smile, she pulls me inside.

I squint as I enter her living room. The walls are dark red and there are candles lit everywhere. There’s even some heavy-duty classical music playing. It certainly isn’t what I would have expected from Lourdes. I have a fleeting thought that maybe she’s a witch and she’s going to cast a spell on me. I half expect bats to start flying out of the fireplace.

She goes to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase and I realize that the brightly colored bouquet I got couldn’t have been more wrong. A bunch of dead red roses would have fit in this room better. Am I in a Tim Burton movie?

I step farther inside to study the paintings all hung in fancy gilded frames.

Every single one is with a crucifix painting or Madonna and child.

What the hell? I lean into the doorway to the kitchen and wonder if I can make a break for it but she sees me.

She returns to my side with two tiny looking wine glasses.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Absinthe.”

I sniff it. “Is this some weird booze or wine?”

“Sort of.” She gives me a demure look and takes a tiny sip.

I take a larger sip and almost spit it out. Damn! My throat is on fire.

“Too strong?” she asks.

I nod my head while I try to stop coughing. Meanwhile she keeps taking small sips and the fumes don’t seem to bother her at all. For a tiny thing she’s pretty tough.

The weirdness continues through dinner where she serves up some strange soup she probably cooked in a cauldron with thick bread that has a tough crust. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to stop for a burger on the way home.

I find myself absentmindedly taking sips of the absinthe. Maybe subconsciously I’m hoping to numb my mind and after a while it’s working. We move to the living room for dessert. I’m halfway done with my dark chocolate mousse when I get the guts to confront her.

I sweep my arm across the interior view. “So what’s this all about? Are you a goth or something?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

She licks the chocolate off her spoon and sets it down.

“Really? What were you expecting?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. White wicker furniture and pale yellow walls. English landscape paintings. Like you see on TV shows.”

She laughs softly. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I don’t know if I’d say disappointed, just surprised.” I take a sip of the weird wine and realize I’ve almost finished my second glass.

She refills it.

“Are you really into Phantom of the Opera or something?”

Her eyes grow wide. “No. Actually my home is a reflection of my spirituality. It’s my refuge here, akin to a place of worship. I hope you know how rare it is for me to invite a man here, but I feel a really strong connection to you, Paul.”

“You do?” I can’t help but be surprised. She may have been attentive during our dinner date, but that little peck on the cheek when we parted didn’t say strong connection to me.

“Definitely, I had to pray on it before I understood His will where you’re concerned.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

She slides off the couch and down to the floor. I’m wondering if she dropped something, but suddenly she pops up, kneeling right in front of me. Just the sight of her kneeling is making my palms sweat. There’s no way I’m letting her give me a blowjob. It’s not just that I don’t want dark red lipstick all over my cock, but this is all wrong and not just because I’m abstaining until I meet the right girl. As much as I love a good blowie, even I have my limits and she’s freaking me out.

I grasp her shoulders. “Please, Lourdes, get up.”

She gazes up at me, as she rests her hands on my knees. “Paul, I want to offer myself to you.”

Suddenly a quick blowie sounds preferable to getting naked between the sheets with goth girl. I will my cock to behave despite the sex offerings, and clear my head as best I can in order to reply coherently.

“Offer yourself? But we haven’t even gotten to second base yet. Hell, we haven’t even kissed!”

“Yes, although I knew you were the one when I met you, I was waiting for a sign.”

“A sign? What sign was that?” ’Cause right now all I’m seeing is a big fat stop sign . . . the same dark red as her walls.

“I was waiting for a spiritual sign. I want to be frank and speak from the heart. I want to offer you my virginity, and I hope you understand how sacred that is.”

I don’t know if it’s the heat from the fireplace, or this screwy wine but for a few seconds the room goes black. When my vision clears she’s patiently waiting for my response. Damn this isn’t just one of those freaky dreams you have when you mix too many different kinds of booze.

“You’re a virgin?” I whisper.

“Spiritually I am.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“When the Lord gives me the sign that I’m supposed to give myself to a man, I say a prayer to resurrect my spiritual virginity.”

Oh, that’s rich. And I thought Elle was way out there. “I didn’t know there were virginity do-overs,” I mumble.

She nods, lifts herself off the floor and reaches for my hand.

I wipe the sweat off my brow and close my eyes to keep the red room from spinning. “I’m dizzy,” I moan.

She places her hands on my shoulders and I immediately sense the teacher of small children in her as she speaks to me in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. It must be the absinthe. Here, lean forward and drop your head between your knees. Stay like that. I’m going to get you a glass of water and a cool cloth.”

I nod as I drop down and face the fabric of the couch. “Yeah, water please,” I mumble.

I hear her walk away and my mind races, trying to figure out what to do. I don’t want to hurt this girl’s feelings but she’s a whack-job. I’m half waiting for someone to pop out and say I’ve been pranked. My mother would lose her shit if she knew how much she missed the mark on this girl.

When she returns I slowly ease up and take sips of water while she studies me. I shake my head. “You know I really didn’t see any of this coming from our previous two dates.”

She nods with a solemn expression. “I know. I keep this side of myself very private. It’s precious and should only be shared with someone who appreciates it.”

“And that would be me?” I ask with my eyebrows scrunched together. I’ve never felt so freaked out by a woman.

“Yes, I’m certain it’s you.”

She leaves the room again and returns with a small fancy bottle filled with a clear liquid. Before I can ask about it she lowers herself to her knees again and offers me the bottle.

“This is holy water from Lourdes in France. Will you sprinkle it on me?”

I take the bottle and hold it up. It looks like tap water to me. “Are you sure this is holy water?” I wonder how many guys have sprinkled this stuff on her and then taken her virtual virginity or whatever the hell she called it.

“Yes.” She tips her head back like wants me to pour this over her head or something.

“Umm, Lourdes?”

She lowers her chin and looks at me. Her expression is so peaceful it’s creepy.

“I’m not sprinkling anything on you. I mean that’s really cool of you to resurrect your virginity and all that for me, but I think I have to pass.”

“What?” She frowns and looks so crestfallen that I have to imagine not a lot of dudes have turned her down. “I was so sure,” she whispers.

“But I’m not so sure.”

“Maybe we should just try.”

I hand her the bottle of water and stand up, scanning the room for where I left my jacket.

I’m almost to the front door when I turn back. “Actually, I’m super-duper sure, like one hundred percent sure, and I just remembered that I have a really early meeting tomorrow.”

“On Saturday?” she asks with a pout as she slowly stands up.

I nod. “Yeah, but thanks a lot for dinner.”

Her eyes narrow but I shoot out the door before she can do her voodoo stuff on me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as relieved as when I hear that click as I pull the door firmly shut behind me.

Chapter Seven

GET A LEG UP

In the gothic aftermath I try not to call Elle to vent. God knows I try, but the compulsion is stronger than my will. I need to hear her voice. I know it will ground me.

“Hey, Paul Junior. What’s shakin’?”

I let out a big sigh of relief remembering that not all women are scary.

“I’ve been dating.”

“Dating? You mean like with a girl?”

“Not a girl, a woman,” I huff.

“Oh yeah, sure . . . sorry. You know what I meant. I was just stunned. What compelled you to go on a date?”

“Maybe you’ve inspired me the way you just put yourself out there.”

There’s a long silence.

“What?” I ask.

“Well if I inspired you, why didn’t you ever take me on a date? Am I merely a conduit or something? I know, me and my filthy mouth represent everything you don’t want to have in a woman. Right?”

The fact that she’d be pissed off at my omission didn’t occur to me. As I try to figure out a pithy answer she jumps in.

She sighs. “So how was the date sex? Was it hot?”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m serious.”

“Then what did you do? And don’t tell me you talked.”

I lean back in my chair and stretch out my legs. “Well we did. And we ate food. And we saw a movie.”

She chuckles. “Sounds freaking awesome. What did you see?”

My mind races but comes up empty. “I didn’t pay much attention. Some historical chick flick.”

“Did she at least give you a hand-job in the theater?”

“No. See . . . there goes that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What’s wrong with her? Has she even touched the anaconda?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’ve got to say Paul . . . your street cred is going down the toilet.”

“Well, this girl’s . . . different. It’s kind of hard to explain. Hey, what are you doing?”

“Watching the game.”

“What game?”

“What else? My kick-ass Trojans and those wimpy UCLA Bruins. Some serious booty is getting kicked tonight!”

Oh, for God’s sake. This woman likes football? It’s almost more than I can take.

“Can I come over and watch with you? Is the Viking there?”

“The Viking?”

“Balding, beady-eyed Stephan.”

“Stop it with that! No, he’s not here. He’s on a business trip. Besides he’s only for sex. He probably doesn’t even watch football. He’s probably reading the Atlantic in his hotel and wondering about the future of urban planning in undeveloped countries.”

“And smoking a pipe,” I add.

“What? Mr. Clean would never smoke a pipe! That’s a dirty business.”

“Of course. I should have thought of that,” I agree. “So I can come over?”

“Sure. I’m wearing grubby sweats, but we’re just buds, so that’s cool. Right?”

“Yeah, very cool.”

I show up at her front door with a six-pack and I blink when she opens the door. Her hair is in a messy bun, she’s holding a bowl of popcorn, and her tight sweatpants have a hole in the knee, yet she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hey, you,” she says, nodding her head to the right. “Come on in. It’s second quarter and my boys are up by ten.”

“You need to know that I’m UCLA all the way, baby.”

She almost drops the bowl of popcorn. “What the hell? You better be joking!”

“I’m not.” I pull open my jacket to reveal my UCLA T-shirt.

Huffing, she turns toward the den. She doesn’t even look back to see if I’m following her. Finally, she turns and makes a face at me. “Hey traitor, you coming or what?”

I grin and follow her down the hall. Once we settle in, she pretty much ignores me for the second quarter. She also yells at the TV a lot. This side of her is a revelation. I wish Dad were here, he’d be in heaven. None of our women-folk can stand football—even my butch sister, the firefighter.

To consume the beer I brought, I have to go to the kitchen and find a bottle opener all on my own but she seems to start to warm up when I open a bottle for her too.

At halftime she gets chatty. “So tell me about the girl.”

I take a long slow swig. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m of the female species, Paulie. I want to know everything. How’d you meet her?”

“Ma knows her from church. She teaches Sunday school.”

Elle practically spits up her beer. “You’re dating a Sunday school teacher? Does she know your background?”

I give her a stern look. “That’s irrelevant.”

She rolls her eyes. “She may not agree with you on that point, bucko. You were a total man-whore.”

“You know, you’re a little hard to figure out.”

She takes a sip of beer. “How so?”

“Well here you are this badass tomboy, Elle. And last week’s Tinder Elle was all sexy and provocative. And then I’ve also met apple pie, Elle . . . sweet as sugar.”

“Hmmm,” she says.

“So which one is the real Elle?”

The corners of her mouth slowly turn up. “All are! There are lots of sides of me and I like it that way.”

“Indeed.”

“Is that a problem for you? Which Elle do you like best?”

I immediately know I can’t be honest with her and tell her that I really like them all, so I cop out. “I’ll never tell,” I reply with a forced grin.

Her eyes narrow with a suspicious look and she turns back to the TV.

“So what’s the Sunday school teacher’s name?”

“Lourdes.”

“Hmm, interesting name.”

I nod. “Hey Elle, seriously I need to talk about this girl. Can you be straight with me?”

Her expression turns more somber and she nods. “Okay, sure. What?”

“So Ma thought she was perfect for me, and I take her out. And it’s okay, nothing great, but she’s nice enough.”

“So you weren’t attracted to her?” Elle asks with an arched brow.

“No,” I admit. “Not really.”

She nods, looking a little smug. “Go on.”

“I mean we don’t even kiss after two dates, and I’m not even sure I care and then . . .”

She waves her hand at me to continue.

“She asks me to come for dinner at her place.”

“Ooo, so what was that like?”

I realize that I’m relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this, so I lean back into the couch, and tell Elle everything. The creepy crucifix paintings, the absinthe that made me not-right in the head, and I conclude with the presentation of the holy water for virtual virgins.

Elle holds her hand up in front of her like she’s stopping a speeding train. “Wait a minute. Wait! What the hell is a virtual virgin?”

I shrug. “I was actually hoping you could tell me. She had this holy water she wanted me to sprinkle on her—”

“Of course she had holy water. Did she have one of those BDSM crosses in her bedroom to hang from?”

“This is serious, Elle.”

She bites the tip of her tongue. I sense she’s trying to hold back a laugh or loud guffaw.

“So she wanted you sprinkle holy water on her, get her all wet and then deflower her . . . take her virtual virginity?”

“She did.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“I already told you, I didn’t touch her.”

“Not even a kiss with tongue?”

I shake my head. “Nope. No tongue. No kiss.”

“Geez, I don’t feel so bad now. You turned down another chance for easy sex. Should I worry about you?”

“No, don’t worry about me.”

“But what if after all this you go gay? Don’t get me wrong, I love my gay boys. But you and all your hotness, and the anaconda need to stay on our side of the fence.”

“I keep telling you, you don’t need to worry about me and other men.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been told that before.”

“So what about Stephan?”

“He’s not gay. Don’t let the meticulous side of him fool you. The way he fucks, he’s straight-up man.”

My fingers tighten around my beer bottle. “So where are things going with you two?”

“He asked me to go to Maui with him. He has a condo there.”

I feel a little sick. “Are you going?”

“Hell yes. Why wouldn’t I? I’ve always wanted to do it on the beach.”

“So is this getting serious? You know . . . between you two.”

“I’m serious about the sex. Is that what you mean?” “That good?” I can barely hide the jealousy in my tone.

“Multiple orgasms. We were up all night the last time he stayed over.”

“Awesome.”

“Don’t be that way, Paul.

“What do you mean?”

“You sound forlorn. It could have been you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“But you like those Sunday school teachers. Well at least the idea of them, even if that one didn’t work out. And you know what . . . now that we’re buds, I’m with your mom. I want a nice girl for you who deserves a guy like you.”

“What kind of guy is that?”

“A good man. One who loves his parents, is handy and can fix your sprinklers and stuff. And of course, one who will watch football with you.”

As I drive home that night I have to wonder why hearing from Elle that I’m a good man just makes me want to be bad again.

My elbow is firmly planted on my drafting table as I stare out the window. I’ve been inspired with this new landscape design for a library garden in Orange County, but this stuff with Elle is distracting me. I really need to get my shit together and focus.

My head jerks back to my desk when my phone vibrates. Talk about timing . . . it’s a text from Elle. My good intentions of focusing just flew out the window.

Aloha handsome!

I sit up tall as I gaze at the screen. I’m jazzed to hear from her even though I hate knowing that she’s with the Viking.

What? You’re already in Maui?

Yes I am. I don’t mess around. I’m a woman of action.

I feel the jealously scorch my insides as I imagine her in his arms. I’m surprised how much it burns.

Good for you. Is it everything you hoped?

It’s paradise. What’s not to like?

Have you had sex on the beach yet?

No. Apparently Mr. Clean has an issue with sand. He doesn’t like it against his skin.

HE DOESN’T LIKE SAND? You’re in Maui for God’s sake.

Sigh. I know.

Does he leave the hotel room?

For meals and when we take strolls on the beach he wears those goofy water shoes.

HE WEARS WATER SHOES FOR WALKS ON THE BEACH?

Would you stop with the shouty caps?

Water shoes aren’t manly, Elle.

I know, but he doesn’t wear them in bed.

Hey, what’s he doing now?

He’s on a business call. I think I’ll go prance in front of him in my bikini. Last time I did that he got off the phone right away and we never made it downstairs. ;-)

There’s that burn again. I don’t want to let her go. I don’t want to think about him fucking her in paradise.

Do you miss me? I’m about to delete that mushy crap but my traitor finger hits send.

Yes . . . lots! Bikini worked! Gotta go xo

Thursday’s family dinner is tense. Ma has never looked so fed up with me. She purses her lips as she gives me the once over. Even the bun in her hair seems wound extra tight.

“What do you mean Lourdes is not your type? She’s pretty and she’s a girl. That’s your type.”

Trisha snorts.

Ma’s face grows more flushed. “Maybe she’s too good for you.”

I push my dinner plate away. Thanks to her hounding me, I’ve lost my appetite. “If that’s what you want to think, be my guest.”

“Was she not attentive enough? I know how you like women to dote over you. She seemed very eager when you two met.”

I look up with as stoic face as I can muster. “Oh she was attentive all right. But there’s good attentive, and not so good attentive. She was more the latter.”

Ma pokes her finger out at me. “Must you speak in riddles, boy? Explain what that means!”

Trisha smirks. “Ha! I bet she didn’t fawn all over him, like most girls do. It was a big blow to his massive ego.”

“Do you realize that you sound like an irritating twelve year old, Trisha?”

She ignores me which serves to confirm my observation.

“So, Ma, it looks like your two-for-two is zero-for-zero in the matchmaking department,” Trisha says.

Dad throws a concerned glance Patrick’s way and I notice Patrick’s expression fall. Just seconds later he excuses himself from the table mumbling something about needing to get back to work.

When he’s left the room Ma hisses at Trisha. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth, Trisha?”

“What? You raised us to always tell the truth.”

“Yes, but there are times it’s better to keep your mouth shut. If you haven’t learned this by now I wonder if you ever will. You hurt the poor boy’s feelings.”

Trisha shrugs and continues eating.

I push my chair back. “I’m going to go check on Paddy.”

Dad nods.

When I get to his room his door is closed. I can’t believe that my older brother still lives at home. No wonder it’s hard for him to date. What kind of woman can be okay with that? I knock.

“It’s open.”

I step inside, and glance around. The Star Wars and anti-motivational posters of his younger years are gone, now replaced by world maps and posters from different countries. It takes some re-adjustment on my part even though the rest of the room looks pretty much the same. He turns and notices what I’m looking at.

I point to the pictures. “These are interesting. I don’t remember seeing them in here before.”

“No I put them up this year.”

“What’s with the maps and pictures from exotic places?”

“I really want to travel. I’ve got a plan to go somewhere different every year.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask surprised. Patrick never seemed the traveling type. “So where will you go first?”

“I just booked a trip in the fall to Morocco.”

This is a revelation. I never thought my brother had an adventurous spirit. “Wow. That’s so cool. Who are you going with?”

His gaze drops down to his computer screen and he skims his fingers back and forth over the keyboard. “No one. I’m going by myself.”

My stomach sinks. Why did I have to ask him that? “Well you know, what’s great about that is then no one can tell you what to do.”

He smiles, seeming to appreciate the encouragement. “Yeah, that’s what I told Ma and Dad.”

“Some people are a pain in the ass to travel with. I went with that girl Bethany to Vegas about five years ago, and when we got there all she wanted to do was shop. We had a big fight right in the middle of the Caesar’s Forum mall.”

His eyes grow wide. “Oh, that must have been awkward.”

“I’ll say. She stormed off, then locked me out of our hotel room, and I headed home early.”

“Oh man! Yeah, so if when I’m in Morocco, if I want to spend all day at Ben Youseef Madrasa no one can harp on me about it and then lock me out of the room.”

“Uh huh,” I agree, not asking for an explanation of this place he’s mentioned. Evidently he’s done a lot of research. I sit down on the edge of his bed. “Hey, Patrick? Can I ask you what happened with Elle?”

There’s a long pause while he stares into space. I’m almost ready to change the subject when he replies.

“I thought she was enjoying our date. She seemed to like the exhibit, but at the end of the afternoon, when I asked her out again, she said no.”

I can see the disappointment in his eyes and it makes me feel bad for him. “I’m sorry, dude. Did she say why?”

“She said I was a great guy but her heart already belonged to someone else. She was hoping we could be friends.”

My stomach sinks. Is it more serious than she’s been saying with the Viking? I thought he was only for sex. Maybe she hasn’t been straight with me.

Patrick looks oddly relieved by my reaction. “So you’re surprised?”

“Yeah, I am. She’s been seeing this guy, an architect for a few weeks, but I didn’t think she was that into him. I guess I was wrong.”

“So you talk to her a lot?”

“Well, we’re pretty good friends. Why?”

“Just wondering. She seems great. Why haven’t you asked her out?”

“When we first met I thought she was everything I needed to avoid.”

“She is really different than the girls you used to hang out with. What do you think about her now?”

“I think that we make great friends. And that’s probably a good thing since apparently the kind of guy she goes for isn’t anything like me.”

Patrick doesn’t respond but he looks deep in thought.

“Hey, Ma has the pound cake you like for dessert. Let’s go have some, okay?”

He nods and gets up. I pat him on the back, and ruffle his hair, all brotherly-like, before we walk down the hall.

His sandy brown hair is thick and the mess I’ve made of it gives him an edge. “You should always wear it that way,” I say. “Chicks like it like that . . . mark my word.”

“Okay,” Patrick says with a shy smile. He stops me right before we enter the dining room. “Hey, I’m sorry that Lourdes didn’t work out either.”

I nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Was she really that weird?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You have no idea. Tell you what? Let’s go out for a drink next week and I’ll share the story.”

“I’d like that.”