Chapter 5 – Kira
KIRA
I don’t know how long it takes for my heartrate to return to baseline, but it’s quite some time after West and I collapsed in a messy heap of sweat and white tulle. We lay together now on the questionable concrete floor, our limbs entwined and my mess of a dress wrapped around us.
The imaginary representation of my vagina is lounging back and smoking a cigarette while I lay here and wait for the inevitable feeling of guilt, or shame, or banger’s remorse to set in, but so far there’s no sign of it.
I don’t feel bad for what I just did. We were consensual and we were safe and holy hell did it feel good - in more ways than one - to do something I wanted. Okay, so I was kind of a pain in the ass rebel in my youth, but the last couple years, I’d really been stepping up.
I agreed to marry a handsome but lame motherfucker, for example. I dressed in uncomfortable, pricey clothes, took French, and sat with my damn legs crossed to show I was more than the black sheep.
Anywho, while no regretful feelings are setting in, the reality of how gross this floor is I’m laying on certainly is.
Figuring I should get up off it and get cleaned up at some point, I decide to break the silence.
“So, that was earth-shattering.” I compliment his mad railing skills and he raises his head from where it was resting on my chest.
“In a good way, I hope,” he smirks, resting his head on his hand.
“It was terrible, couldn’t you tell?”
This makes him laugh, and it’s a low, hearty rumble I kind of like, before he composes himself and looks me in the eye. “You blew my mind.”
“Stop.” I wave a hand with the sarcasm in my voice.
“No I’m serious,” he picks up a strand of my hair and gives it a tug. “Pretty sure that’s the best sex I’ve had in my life.”
I laugh and shake my head. “We could go on like this all day. I guess we’re both pretty skilled.”
He raises his hand, and I lift mine to slap it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
This is perfect. It’s light with no awkwardness. But there’s still reality to deal with…. “I’ve got to figure out what to do next, and I’m losing daylight.”
“I hear you,” he tells me, hefting himself up and tucking himself back in his pants before reaching down to give me a hand up.
Once I’m standing, he doesn’t step away, but actually keeps an arm tucked around me.
“I’m honestly not sure what you can do this late in the day.
With that one hotel booked up, there aren’t really any options so…
if you’re comfortable with it, my apartment’s upstairs. ”
“Your apartment?” I lift my eyebrows at him. I can’t believe he’d offer to let a stranger stay the night in his place.
“If you’re not comfortable with it, I understand, and you certainly don’t have to. We’ll figure something else out.”
We will?
“It will just be easier than searching hotels God knows how many towns away is all,” he lifts a shoulder. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and I have a bat you can keep by the bed.” He smirks, and it makes me chuckle .
“Okay,” I sigh with a grateful smile. It really would be nice to get out of this dress of doom and freshen up. And to let myself off the hook for the night as far as worrying about where to go. “But just for tonight,” I hold up a finger.
He nods, giving me that bad boy smirk that promises nothing but mischief. “I’ll walk you up.”
West’s apartment is studio style, and I’m surprised by how much I love it. From the little I know of him, it suits him to a tee.
I shake my head and toss the phone on the mattress. After a few annoying moments searching for the zipper, I’m about to rip off the dress when I notice a tall mirror on the back of the bathroom door. And it gives me an idea.
Grabbing up my phone again, I shuffle over to the door and take in my reflection. Black smudges adorn my dress - several of them distinct handprints. Various rips and tatters hang from the skirt and bodice, my hair is completely fucked, and I swear to God, I’m glowing.
Allowing myself a little smirk, I hold up my phone with one hand and the middle finger of my other, snap a photo of my immensely satisfied reflection, and type out a text.
Kira: You can keep your loose little side piece. Now that I know what it’s like to be thoroughly fucked by an actual man I won’t be needing your sorry limp dick or your daddy’s money. Toodle-oo motherfucker!
There.
Now that that’s done, time to freshen up and have the very helpful mechanic downstairs point me in the direction of the nearest bar.
#getmewastedNOW
After an extended shower, I rifle through my honeymoon suitcase only to find clothes fit for some rich asshole’s rich, snooty, European honeymoon.
In a humble, quaint town like this, I’m not up for sticking out like a sore thumb in Louis Vuitton.
This looks like more of a blue-jeans and t-shirt type town, which honestly, I wish I had.
But noooo… casual dressing in my house is an abomination.
Opting for a pair of black yoga pants, I find myself still in need of top. All I’ve packed are bikinis and silk blouses.
I’m just unfolding a silver Chanel number when my eyes fall on a laundry basket sitting atop a dresser by the wall.
The clothes inside are folded, which I take to mean they’re clean, just not put away.
On the top sits a grey t-shirt that I dare to reach for and hold it up in front of me, letting it drop open.
Against the grey backdrop is a black logo of a car with its hood popped open, the words Shane Automotive floating above it in a bold font. Neon green accents give both the text and image some character, and the material feels heavenly soft. I wonder if he would mind…
Slipping the shirt over my head, the cotton feels like a soothing caress as it falls down my body.
Shit. I might have to give him money for this because there’s no way I’m giving it back.
Grabbing the collar, I bring it to my nose for a sniff.
It smells like fresh laundry detergent but with notes of rugged, manly mechanic swirled in.
And just like that, my vagina wakes up and starts pulsing in my panties, raring to go.
Cool it, bitch. We’re going to get drunk.
Gathering the excess material, I knot it at the side so I don’t look like a total slob - old habits die hard, I guess - twist my hair up in a knot, and trudge down the stairs.
West
While taking a shower would’ve been just as good an idea for me as Kira - and joining her feels like an even better one - I thought I’d give her a little space after our spontaneous, filthy act of lust performed on the hood of a car in her wedding dress while she’s in a vulnerable state.
At least that’s what I tell myself. I don’t acknowledge the extra bonus of smelling her all over myself.
I refuse to consider the fact I’m basking in her perfume and sex-fueled pheromones as I type up a profile on her Rolls in our data system.
“West?” I hear her call echoing through the garage, and I stand from my chair.
“Yeah, back here,” I call back and make my way around the desk and out the door, only to be met with the most lethal form of aphrodisiac that I didn’t know existed.
Kira’s face is free of makeup, her hair is pulled back to reveal her slender neck and smooth jawline, and most of all - she’s wearing my shirt!
“Hey,” she says on a sigh, a sheepish look falling over her face. “Is it okay if I borrow this? I didn’t have anything in my suitcase but rich asshole clothes.”
I only think I know what she means by that, but that doesn’ t matter.
“Oh…yeah,” I tell her, resting my hands on my back. “Yeah it’s cool.”
“Are you sure?” She raises a cautious eyebrow. “I don’t want to look like a clinger. I mean, I don’t want you to think I expect anything beyond… you know,” she nervously gestures back to the garage bay.
Well that’s just fucking sweet of her.
“Oh nah,” I dismiss the notion, running a hand through my hair and bringing it down to scratch at the back of my neck.
“ We’re good,” I add, nervously clearing my throat.
I don’t know what it is about her that has me watching how I’m coming off.
I don’t think I’ve acted like this since seventh grade.
And her in my fucking shirt just very well may have snuffed out my ballgown fetish - again, don’t you dare fucking ask.
I take note of her very expensive handbag slung over her shoulder. “You headed somewhere?”
“Well, since I’m staying in town for the night, and given my current situation, I thought maybe I’d go somewhere and get completely loaded,” she says frankly, joining her hands together in front of her like a proper little debutante.
She’s a walking contradiction, and for some reason, my dick is here for it.
“Any recommendations?” She tacks onto the end there.
I chuckle. “Actually, if there’s one thing this town isn’t short on, it’s bars.”
“All walking distance, I assume?” She raises her eyebrows, looking hopeful.
“Yeah,” I nod. “But I’m thinking the best and closest one would be The Crafty Coyote, and it’s on the main drag.”
“Perfect,” she lights up and a warm sensation buzzes in my chest. “Which way do I take?” She asks, tilting herself up onto her toes as she tries to look out at the street through the windows.
For some reason, the idea of her walking to the bar by herself is unsettling.
And while she seems perfectly at ease with sitting at a bar and knocking a few back on her own, I like that idea even less.
Don’t get me wrong, the people in this town are decent and trustworthy, but that doesn’t mean I want to give any of them the chance to prove me wrong.
“Tell you what,” I tell her, reaching for my jacket off the back of the chair. “I’m done for the day, and I was going to go have a couple beers myself. I’ll join you, if that’s cool?”
“Sure,” she tilts her head, and I think I see a hint of relief on her face.