6. Isla
isla
. . .
“You left?” Jodi shrieks, then lowers her voice, “Why did you leave?”
“I had work!” I whisper-shout. “It’s not like I could call in sick to fuck some kind of sex god.”
“Shhh,” one of the crotchety patrons hushes us.
“I left my number,” I whisper. “But it isn’t like he’s going to call.”
“People don’t call, Nana, they text. Check your phone.”
I pull it from my back pocket. When I’m at work, I always keep it on silent, but I’m surprised to find a fuckton of emails and a few spam texts… and one unknown from who I can only assume is Sam.
Unknown
Dinner. 10:30pm.
I type out a reply.
I’m not sure if this is who I think it is, but if you are, what happens in the limousine?
You told me no spoilers, but I know you read it. So…
He enjoys Becca’s cunt as much as I’ve been dying to taste yours since you left this morning.
Jodi snatches my phone from me. “Stop! I was reading that!”
“Oh, shit, you weren’t kidding,” she laughs, scrolling my texts with Sam. “Even Travis isn’t this smooth. It’s fine, I’ll help you.” She types out a response as I swipe for the phone. “There. You’re welcome.”
I check the messages, and I’m mortified.
Find me among the stacks if you want another taste.
“Jodi!” I shriek. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I said, ‘you’re welcome!’”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I ignore the incoming text, stuffing my phone in my pocket.
The last few hours have been uneventful, though I’ve been on edge, worried Sam might show up at the library. There are two unread texts from him, and I refuse to check them until later. I’m still undecided whether or not I should go to dinner with Sam, or if I should just keep last night as a perfect memory. What if we have nothing in common? What if he likes black licorice? What if he doesn’t like dogs? What if he lied and enjoys nonfiction more than his fantasy books?
There are too many variables.
With Jodi’s bachelorette party continuing tonight, we both requested the rest of the day off work to ensure we had time to primp before the show tonight. Jodi and the bridesmaids have big plans for the evening, but the moment the show is over, I’m pretending I have a headache and bailing—even if I don’t go to dinner with Sam. I love Jodi, but I have no desire to bar-hop or ogle half-naked men after some circus performance she’s forcing me to watch.
We head to the show, and once I’m seated in the auditorium, the lights dim and the performers begin. After a few minutes, I’m surprised that, in fact, I’m a woman who enjoys watching half-naked perform on a trapeze and various silk drapes. The man on the trapeze swings to his partner, their arms and hands locking, while the other performers tangle themselves in panels of fabric like some sort of elaborate pilates. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be wrapped in the rope and tapestries hanging from the ceiling. Something about being bound in the silk seems… freeing.
The trapeze artist lets go of his partner and somersaults through the air, gripping the trapeze bar on the other side. His back muscles flex, and I do a double-take, squinting to get a better look.
I know that back…
He pulls his legs onto the bar and hangs upside down.
I know that chest…
My heart stops as I watch the man who made me come five times last night catch the other man flying in the air toward him.
I close my gaping mouth, but Jodi absolutely caught me. “He’s hot, right?”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Hot.”
Both of the men flip and land in the netting; the crowd applauding them. I don’t take my eyes off Sam as they make their way to four loops of fabric. He says something to the other man, then walks toward the edge of the stage. The rest of the performers are climbing tall poles or twisting and turning around the fabric panels as Sam walks down the steps into the audience. We’re in the fourth row, and there are no less than twenty bachelorette parties here. I’m sure he’ll pull a bride-to-be on stage for the performance, if that’s part of the show.
The other man leaves the stage down the steps on the other side. He zeros in on Jodi, offering his hand to invite her to join them. Sam is about to do the same for another future bride when he glances over at his partner to see who he chose but spots me.
Time stops and we both pause, a sweet smile painting his face. He crosses the auditorium and curls his finger at me. I sink into my seat, hoping it’s just my imagination and he’s asking someone else. When I don’t move, he continues toward my aisle, and once he’s towering above me, he offers his hand like the other man did to Jodi. The ladies around me are swooning, but the moment I place my hand in his, goosebumps erupt on my arms, and my breath catches. How he’s even more attractive than last night is beyond me.
I stand, earning applause from the audience, and he leads me to the stage. Once out of earshot of the crowd, he whispers, “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” I glance around to make sure no one can hear me. “You’re a circus performer?”
“I prefer trapezist, but yes,” he laughs.
I can’t fucking believe this. How did it not come up last night? I think back to the bar; there was flirting, but no typical get-to-know-you conversation. At his place, we read… and fucked. Though, I’m not sure I’d call it fucking.
The garage.
I fucking forgot about the garage. He told me he was a performer.
Fuck, I’m an idiot. I should stay far away from him… and his perfect fucking cock.
This is a nightmare. He’s amazing in bed, but I can’t date a Vegas performer!
We approach two loops of silk hanging from the ceiling, and he positions me between them. “Spread your legs for me, angel.” I do as he asks, widening my stance, and he wraps my arms in each of the loops. My wrists are bound and pulled away from my body, he falls to his knees in front of me with a safety harness. “Missed you this morning.” I step into two holes of the leather straps and he tugs them up. Once he straps me in, he discreetly slides the back of his hand up the inside of my thigh, then in a swift movement, pulls both of my legs onto his shoulders. “Shame you’re wearing trousers.”
Sam stands and spreads my legs and hooks them into the loops. The crowd applauds my flexibility, not noticing that Sam is sliding his hands down the inside of my legs. Suspended by my arms and legs, I’m fucking grateful I’m wearing pants right now or my pussy would be on full display. My wet pussy. I’m aching to have him touch me again.
Fuck, how does he have this effect on me after one night? So much for staying away from him…
He unties my hands and pulls my legs together. “Stand up, use your hands to climb. Perfect, just like that.”
Once I’m standing, I look down at him. “Is this safe?”
“I’ll catch you.” He winks and looks over at Jodi and the other performer. She’s in the same position I am, laughing at whatever he’s telling her. “Hold on tight.”
I’m about to ask why when the loops lift a few feet off the ground. He grips my ankles and spreads my legs again, my pussy right back in his face.
“After dinner, I want you naked, just like this.” Sam pulls my legs back onto his shoulders, the sheets hiding us. “You don’t have any idea how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” I don’t reply, still stunned at all of this. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commands and I hesitate. “It’s part of the show. Lock your ankles.” I look over at Jodi who is basically straddling the man’s face. “Lance is gay, he doesn’t care.”
I’m so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I was starting to have feelings for this man. “You have women’s pussies in your face most nights?”
“I saw you earlier, love. This isn’t part of the show. Your cunt in my face was a special request.”
In an instant, his hands wrap around the fabric and he pulls his legs up into the silk. “Do you think I can make you come thirty feet from the ground? Or should I take you up the rafters so I can properly taste you?”
We begin twirling, making me dizzy, but then we stop, the audience out of view. Jodi and I lock eyes, and she’s having the time of her life. I don’t want to ruin this experience for her. I take a deep breath and watch as she drops down the silk in a graceful movement.
“Hold on to both sides,” Sam commands. He adjusts the harness so it’s right down the slit of my pussy.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
I shouldn’t, but this high up, I’m left with no choice. I slide down the sheets until my feet hit the floor, Sam joining me moments later. I shouldn’t have trusted him; the harness rubbed against me and I now need his hands… or mouth… or cock. I need him.
Sam helps me out of the fabric, and pulls me to him with his hand splayed on my lower back until our bodies are flush. The world around me disappears. “Ten thirty. The Nook.”
He kisses my forehead, paints on a fake smile that’s wider than I’ve seen on him, and turns me to face the audience. He takes a bow as they cheer for Jodi and me, though I’m not sure either of us deserve it—I sat in fabric while a man I slept with last night turned me on, without touching me.
Jodi and I return to our seats, and she whispers, “So much for the guy last night, huh? Goodbye, Sam; hello, hot trapeze guy!”
“Sam is the hot trapeze guy. The hot trapeze guy is Sam,” I hiss.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Her eyes wide, she looks back at the stage, finding him swinging from a trapeze. “Shit, you’re right!”
“Yeah.” I wince. “It’s not like I can date him. It would never work.”
“Then don’t date him. Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun.” Jodi shrugs and whispers, “You deserve to have fun, Isla.”
“He’s all wrong for me.” So, why does it feel so… right?
“Why is he wrong for you? Because he’s not a college professor or a doctor? I have to admit, you have some fucked-up standards, babe. You said he reads a ton, has a dreamy apartment, and made you come harder than Jeff ever could’ve. Sounds like he’s perfect for you. Go to dinner with plant daddy, and see where the night takes you.”
She sits back in her seat, and when I return my attention to the show, Sam’s eyes are back on me, a boyish grin appearing every time he looks over at me.
Jodi’s right—I do have fucked-up standards. There’s a beautiful man who for some reason wants to have dinner with me. I’d be a fucking idiot to say no.