Private Affair (The Private Series) (11 page)

Sitting next to me on the bed, “Why didn’t you bring it up sooner with me?”

“We weren’t exactly on solid ground then.” I turn on my side and prop my head up on my hand. I look him in the eye and still see a glance of guilt. “Hey, I am okay. Was I then at the time? Probably not, but I have grown.”

Ben lays down next to me and caresses my cheek and lays a leg over mine, “I am still very sorry about all of it.”

I tip my head so I kiss the side of his hand. I smile and that makes him arch an eyebrow and I have to ask the one and only question left in my inebriated head. “How could you not remember having sex with Erin?”

He exhales quite dramatically, twists and drops dramatically to the bed next to me. Covers his head and groans, “I don’t know. I don’t remember a lot from that time. I was pretty fucked up.”

“I understand that. I do, but … and I am saying this as the best friend of the girl out there … But Erin? She’s pretty hot!”

Ben rolls his eyes and smacks my behind, “Enough! Besides I don’t want to think about anyone from the bad part of my past. I have you, the light of my future.”

“I just don’t understand how you could forget someone as fiery as Erin,” I smile at him, making him and I lighten up.

As many times as I have asked Charles to check the stock downstairs and all the times he said he would do it, then why am I down here taking the fucking stock? We went in on this deal as equal partners, so I expect him to step it up and cut back on flirting with the girls that come in here.

Not that I can blame him or anything for Christ’s sakes, the women that come in here … fuck the way they dress in those tight, mini dresses and they leave very little to the imagination.

I like to keep it on the down low that I own part of this place, crazy I know right? But I don’t want to flaunt that I have a bar. There’s nothing wrong with it, fuck it brings in some good cash. I just want to be known for a little more than that.

It’s slow right now, most people are still at work so I can come back upstairs and not be noticed. “Why wasn’t your ass down there doing inventory?” I ask Charles, who is cleaning the last of the glasses.

“I was busy.” He gives me a shit eatin’ grin.

“Yeah…” I look at my watch and see that happy hour will be starting soon. I head to the loo, take a leak and check myself out in the mirror. I look like I haven’t slept in days, which I suppose is suitable, considering I haven’t. I don’t know what my fucking problem is, shit I fuck enough women that walk through these doors … that alone should exhaust me. But no.

“You good here for the night?” I ask Charles. He assures me he will be fine. I trust my business partner, we met a few years back and talked about starting a place up for some time and when the old bar that was here failed we bought it out and changed it up. Before it was a typical dive bar, not a single classy bone in it body, just beer and slurred bloats using crap ass pick-up lines. So I had an idea, everyone feels more comfortable when they text someone, especially to hook up. So why not make that a mission statement? Come in, look good, log in and text away. I have seen a lot of one nighter’s walk out of this place and a few relationships get started here.

I was not one of those to come in looking for a relationship, no fucking way. Every night I am here I walk out with a girl or two and never call them again. Sure when they come back in, they try again, but I’m not into fucking someone twice, because too many frequent punches on the fuck card gets you in trouble … in the significant other box.

I go into the office for a bit to take care of some orders and pay some bills. I come out and Charles already has my drink started for me. I grab it and pull my mobile out of my back pocket and waltz into the lounge. I am pretty fucking proud of the place. I took it from dart boards and wood paneling to a plush sexy get away. Deep jewel tones and luscious fabrics. No, I’m not gay, I just know what a place should look like, especially one you want to be perceived as classy and sexy.

I take a seat in the darkened corner on a purple velvet arm chair and log in. It doesn’t take long before the women in the place start their attempts to gain my attention. One, two and before I know it I have eight private message requests and I reject each one.

A screen name called LuckyCharm pops up into the chat room and calls me out. She gives me a hint as to which one of the many fuckable women in the room she could be. She has long red hair and is in a black strapless mini dress and stripper heels. I reply to her that I will let her know when I am ready to leave. I have the control here and she better know that. No woman has ever challenged me before, they just did what they were told, especially if they wanted to be a notch in my headboard.

I pound back a few more glasses of whiskey and before I drink myself limp I tell her that I am ready and to meet me outside. She gets up first and she stumbles slightly and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long, now I am probably looking at a sloppy fuck. Whatever. I need to get it on so maybe I can sleep.

I make my way outside and I see her leaning against the warm brick wall of the building. It’s a pretty humid night for an August evening here. I reach down the front of myself, getting a head start so we can get this done quick. She asks if I want to go to her place and I tell her no. Just a flat no, I don’t need to explain myself. She understands the arrangement and I lead her to the ally between the bar and the business next door, which closed hours ago. She follows me until we are nearly at the back of Chatz and she starts to lift her dress, a little eager.

“Let’s see if you live up to that screen name of yours,” She sings.

Like I haven’t heard that countless times with countless women. I just give her my signature smirk and I can practically see her get wet. “Turn around.”

She starts to reach for my fly first but I grab her wrist. I am not in the mood for this shit, so I just spin her around and she giggles, figures she likes it rough. Don’t the Americans here say that red heads are crazy? I think they are onto something.

I undo the button on my pants and drop them just to my knees. I pull myself out and give it a little hand attention, considering I have had quite a bit to drink, but not drunk enough to forget a condom, so I slip one on. When I hear her start to moan from the anticipation I yank her dress up the rest of the way and slam into her and she screams out and I tell her to be quiet. I am in and out only a few thrusts and she is clawing at the brick in her own climax and I let go just after. I pull out right away and tuck everything away. I look to her and she is pulling her dress back down and she has a smile on her face, but it looks nearly forced. I could usually care less, but most women are all too eager to tell me how good it was, but she is quiet.

“Can you get home okay?” I ask. What the hell dude? You don’t ever ask something like that, it will only make her think that you genuinely care.

She tucks her long hair behind her ear, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Then she walks out of the ally. I watch her stumble a few small steps on the rough pavement. She looks back at me and smiles, I think it’s to assure me. But why?

No names. I know she knows mine, what woman doesn’t? But hers? No clue and I don’t care to know. Too personal.

After that night with her she became a regular, but she didn’t push to sleep with me again, she would leave with other guys, but never me. I wasn’t jealous. Right?

It’s the first week of February and my birthday is coming up. After Ben not telling me about his birthday, he had used his body against me to force me to reveal mine.

Growing up, I never had a big party like most of my friends were having. I was more than okay with that. My mom would always make it special and I would usually have one or two girlfriends over for a sleep over. My mom would bake an amazing cake and take us to the video store to pick out all the movies we wanted. Most consisted of hot celebrities that we had crushes on at the time. We would set out our sleeping bags in the living room, veg out and talk none stop. I remember always playing the silly game M.A.S.H which would reveal what kind of house we would live in, who we would marry, how many kids we would have and all the fun things we could think of.

I started celebrating my birthdays alone after I turned sixteen. That’s when I started to go downhill. Friends turned their backs on me, my Dad sucked and my art teachers were putting me down, because I wouldn’t let them do my work for me. Do you know how much it hurts seeing your best friend who lived next door to you, invite your other friends over and not you? One even told me that she wished I would die, because I dated a guy for a month, which apparently she had a crush on. He broke up with me on the phone and it was because I wouldn’t have sex with him and kicked me out of his car.

So you can get the idea that I wasn’t one to really enjoy my birthdays as of late.

I am woken up with the smell of fresh coffee on my bedside table, I open my eyes to see it still steaming. Ben must have just brought it in for me. I sit up and as I reach for the delicious scent that is beckoning me, my mouth waters. I see a little pink bow on the mugs handle. I pick it up and see that it’s a new mug, I turn to see what it reads in his handwriting

Your mug is pink. My coffee is black.

And like the silver spoon, I’d like to swirl your body.

Your lush creamy skin, like your vanilla latte.

Set your mug down and let me take you on the counter.

You have sweetened my life, much like how…

Sugar is white and I’ll be the luckiest man…

When you say you’ll be my wife.

I feel my cheeks start to heat and pinken. Then the butterflies take full flight. I bring the warm mug to my lips and take the first sip, which is nothing but pure joy and heaven. Liquid love. Without setting the mug down I pull the blankets off myself in one swift motion and I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Eager to find my husband to be. I am in my favorite black tee, the one that Ben saw me in when he came over one night at the beginning of our … seeing one another. It’s hard to imagine that we have only been together for less than a year and look how far we have come, what we have overcome and how much I have matured. I honestly think Ben has matured slightly as well.