14. 8 Weeks Earlier – Halloween
14
8 WEEKS EARLIER – HALLOWEEN
SCOTT
F ucking fuck fuck .
I almost broke the arm off the furniture, Angel made me come so hard.
She sits back on her heels, wipes the edge of her lips with her finger, and then sucks it into her mouth as if she didn’t want to miss a drop. Is she an actual angel?
She gives me a small smile, shy almost. Not sure why after what she just did.
Her eyes drift from me, back to the artwork on the walls, then tracking to where her costume is pooled on the floor. I notice her shift slightly towards it.
The last thing I want is for her to be covering up, but she’s totally naked and I’m not, and I sense she’s feeling self-conscious now. Not wanting her to be uncomfortable, I stand quickly and retrieve it for her.
‘You want to come and explore the rest of the party with me?’ I hold out her dress.
She pulls it to her chest. Definitely self-conscious suddenly.
‘I should …’ She dips her head to the door.
Shit, she wants to go.
Despite all the things I’d love to do with her if she stayed, I’m not going to stop her. ‘Wait, let me get your shoes.’
I haul my trousers back up, zipping everything in as I dart from the room, sprinting through the house, down the stairs, to the study. The door is open and it’s deserted. I scoop up her ridiculous heels.
Turning, I sprint back, but skid to a halt in the entrance way as she’s gliding down the stairs. Her tiny dress now back on, and a greeny-grey smudge on her thighs poking out from under the hem. Her thong is still in my pocket.
‘Thank you,’ she says as she gets to the bottom and reaches for her shoes.
Not like this.
‘Let me.’ I drop to my knees.
Taking a foot in my hand, I slide one of her shoes on. As she transfers her weight across, I lift the other foot, steadying her as she wobbles and I slip on the other shoe.
Maybe it’s me who has the fairy tale Cinderella fetish.
This woman, this angel … fuck , this version of me would do anything for her.
Still down on the floor, I hold her hips, wrapping my fingers around her because I don’t want her to go, not yet. As if I have some claim over her. Dickhead.
‘Can I see you again? Get your number?’
She dips her head to the side, that look of insecurity in the gallery totally erased. Maybe because she can see I’m a total freaking simp for her. Maybe I’ve been too much?
‘All this.’ She circles her hand in the air. ‘Tonight. Isn’t it supposed to be anonymous?’ She shrugs. ‘I thought it was all a secret?’
She steps away from me and starts to move towards the kitchen, probably to get her bag. Still on my knees, I watch her go.
She spins back, holding up the polaroid image, the sexiest fucking smile on her face. ‘Thanks for the memento. Tonight has been … inspiring.’
Then she turns out of sight and she’s gone.