6. Rory
Rory
Well, that could have gone a little better. I stared up at Maeve’s pub. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I knew this moment was coming, but I still wished it never had to happen.
I wanted to race back inside, plead forgiveness.
I wanted to feel her hot breath on me, like it had less than two hours ago.
I wanted to feel her little body curl around me.
Beg for me as I worshipped her. I didn’t move because I knew if I did that then any possibility of repairing this damage would be destroyed, so I remained frozen in indecision, and I would have stayed that way for the rest of the day —the rest of my life— but a teenage boy broke this trance.
He was a skinny thing, only a blur of limbs and ragged clothes barreling toward me. Before I could react, he collided with me, the sharp jab of his bony shoulder throwing me off balance. I felt a tug at my pocket. Then, he was gone, laughing as he darted away.
The entire exchange was so swift and chaotic that it left me stunned. I stared dumbly for a beat, watching his wiry frame shrink into the distance. Then it clicked: my wallet was gone. Adrenaline surged through me, and I bolted after him, my sneakers slapping against the cobblestones.
He had a head start, but I had something he hadn’t counted on— endurance. I’d run track back in high school, my legs conditioned to sprint and my lungs trained to take the burn. Though I was older now, running was still my solace and a way to escape the grind of daily life.
I followed the kid through streets narrow and uneven, and out into a farmer’s market.
The kid zigzagged, darting around carts laden with fruits and wares.
I stayed on his tail, weaving through a growing throng of afternoon shoppers at the farmer’s market.
Vendors called out greetings and arranged piles of colorful produce or freshly baked bread.
“Stop that kid!” I shouted, but the crowd barely parted for me, too preoccupied with their weekend routines. Some glanced up, but no one moved to intervene.
The boy turned his head briefly to glance back, then his movements grew more erratic, his legs pumping frantically as he tried to lose me.
But fatigue was setting in. His clumsy zigzags turned to staggered, desperate attempts to evade.
I, on the other hand, found a second wind, my stride lengthening as I surged forward.
The chase ended abruptly at the edge of a dock.
The boy skidded to a halt, his heels teetering dangerously close to the edge.
The sea stretched out behind him, a vast expanse of choppy, gray water dotted with anchored boats.
His chest heaved as he looked from me to the water, then to the small crowd that had gathered behind me.
I slowed my sprint to a stride. “I believe you have something of mine,” I said.
My hand shot out to grab the wallet, but the wood beneath my feet was slick from sea spray. My sneakers lost their grip, and I felt myself pitching forward, but it wasn’t until cries from the crowd shot through me that I realized it was already too late.
I tumbled over the edge of the dock.
The water hit me like a slap. Cold, unforgiving, and all-consuming.
My body seized as I plunged beneath the surface, the icy shock knocking the breath from my lungs.
For a moment, I was suspended in a world of muted sounds and shifting currents, the water closing around me like a vice.
My limbs flailed instinctively, desperate to break free from the frigid grip.
The salt stung my eyes and filled my nose as I kicked upward, breaking the surface with a gasping breath.
The world above was chaos. Shouts and gasps rippled through the crowd as people rushed to the edge of the dock.
Strong hands reached down, grasping at my arms as I struggled to find purchase.
With a collective heave, they hauled me onto the wooden planks, where I collapsed in a shivering heap.
The wind bit at my soaked clothes, and I could feel the chill sinking into my bones.
“The kid!” someone shouted.
I lifted my head just in time to see the boy darting away, his small figure disappearing into the labyrinth of streets.
A woman draped a blanket over my shoulders, but I threw it off, darting into the alley the boy had gone into.
I rounded the corner. The kid stood at the back of a house, surrounded by three other hulky men.
They turned to me, fists bawled as they moved toward me.
I held up my hands. “Hey, guys, I just want my wallet. Just let me have it back, and we’ll forget any of this happened.”
One of the bigger men with a bright red goatee stepped forward.
He folded his arms in front of his chest and stared down at me.
I’d known men like him, big tough guys who would cow down to a higher authority figure.
I’d had my fair share of run-ins with guys like that, and usually confidence won out.
I puffed up my chest and drew forward. In the most commanding voice I could muster, I said, “Give me my wallet.”
It was a great performance— one that made the skinny thief cowering in the back widen his eyes, but the redhead in front of me didn’t flinch.
In fact, he smiled and grabbed my shirt with both his hands, lifting me up a few inches from the ground, enough that I felt the stretch of my clothes against my skin.
“You starting trouble, are you?” said the man, he pulled my face close to his, enough to smell the man’s alcohol-laced breath.
“I just want my wallet. He stole it!”
The man shook his head. “I think you’ve got it wrong. Think you’re mistaking our guy for someone else.”
“No,” I went on, and part of me wished I could have stopped myself. Allowed these men to keep what was rightfully mine, but I couldn’t. “Let me down or I’m calling the cops!”
The redhead glanced back at his friends, then to me, who was squirming in his grasp, like a fish coming up from water. Then he hit me, and everything went black.
Maeve stood at her front door; her silhouette framed by the soft glow of an overhead light.
She wore a red silk gown that clung to her figure, shimmering like liquid fire as it moved.
Her hair was swept up, with a few dark tendrils curling against her neck.
Her makeup was smoky, her eyes like embers glowing in the night.
She looked as though she were prepared for a gala, a night of indulgence and decadence.
Yet, she stood there, unmoving, her gaze fixed on me.
If my soul could speak, it would have begged for her forgiveness. I would have traded everything for a chance to feel her touch again, to bask in the radiance of her presence.
She stepped back into the shadows of her hallway and gestured for me to follow.
My legs carried me forward as if her invitation were a command written in the stars.
I would’ve followed her anywhere. Into the depths of the ocean.
To the moon and back. Or even up the winding staircase I now climbed. But this time felt different.
She led me into her living room and gestured toward the couch.
I sat, my body taut, as she stood before me.
Slowly, achingly slowly, she reached for the zipper at her back.
The gown slipped from her shoulders, cascading to the floor in a silken whisper.
She stepped out of it, now dressed in delicate red and white lace, the lingerie hugging her curves like a lover’s embrace.
Her matching red heels clicked softly against the floor as she took a step closer, her eyes locking with mine.
They smoldered with a fire that made my chest tighten.
She straddled me, the heat of her thighs pressing against mine as she pulled my shirt over my head.
The lace of her bra grazed my skin, and I traced the fabric with my fingertips, sliding my hands down her soft sides and over the curve of her hips.
She was a vision, the epitome of desire— everything a man could want, and everything I had ever longed for that I didn’t know I needed.
I kissed her slowly at first, savoring the softness of her lips, imagining them as a ballroom where our tongues danced in perfect harmony.
But the pace quickened, the rhythm of our movements becoming frantic, desperate.
It was a melody only we could hear, one that pulsed with the shared beat of our hearts.
In one practiced motion, I unhooked her bra, and her warm breasts fell against me.
My lips found her nipples, circling them, sucking gently at first, then harder.
She moaned, a low, sultry sound that resonated deep within me, a vibration of pleasure that echoed in her grip on my hair as she gasped.
Her hands trembled, clutching at me like a lifeline, as if letting go might cause the world to collapse.
Her face flushed, her breath coming in soft, ragged gasps as I laid her down on the couch.
I kissed my way down her body, trailing over her chest and stomach until I reached the lace barrier hiding her most intimate secrets.
My tongue teased along the fabric, eliciting a shiver from her.
Her hands gripped the couch armrest above her head.
When I freed her from the confines of the lace, she was a vision, breathtaking in her raw beauty, her body glistening with a sheen that promised ecstasy.
Her skin was soft, warm, and flushed with anticipation, the subtle curve of her hips drawing me closer.
I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers, savoring the taste of her.
A mingling of sweetness and desire that left me hungry for more.