Page 2 of Life In General
Damn, my imagination is on a roll tonight.
It’s been almost two months since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, and it seems I’m ready to stretch my legs again.
“You come here often?” I ask as I lean forward, putting my body even with his, now leaning on the bar too.
His gaze raises from his half-empty beer as he shakes his head. “I would’ve come sooner if I knew you’d be here.” A sinister yet sexy half-smile, half-smirk accompanies his pick-up line, and I can’t help but shift on my stool as my thighs tighten like they can feel the true meaning of his words. My body is picking up vibes, and I want more . . . I need more.
Propping my chin in my right hand, I lean in as much as the bar will allow. “It’s my first time here, so I wasn’t sure how the night would go,” I start, “but I can’t say I’m disappointed so far.”
“So far?” My mystery man angles himself toward me a bit, the rest of the room disappearing around us. “What can I do to make sure your night ends well? I’d hate to see you disappointed.”
Before I can answer, the rest of the room comes zooming back into focus when the jukebox volume kicks up to a million and all I can hear is the drum and guitar beginning of “Black Betty” by Ram Jam echoing around us. While I normally would be jamming along to this classic rock song, right now is not when I want to have it blasting in my ears so loud, it’s burrowing into my eardrums, and it’ll be that song that I randomly start singing for weeks to come.
After yelling into each other’s ears a few times, trying to continue our flirty conversation, I get frustrated that I can’t hear his gravelly voice anymore. And I don’t even know his name yet! That’s just wrong.
Not wanting to just get up and walk out, assuming he’s going to want to leave with me, I grab a pen and order pad from over the edge of the bar to communicate with him the only way available at the moment.
What’s your name? I write on the top line.
GENERAL. His handwriting is blocky and sharp. Simple. I like it already. YOU?
Brittany.
GOOD TO KNOW.
I’m not really sure what that means, or what kind of name General is, but right now, I don’t care, so I move on to a more important topic—what to do about this noise.
Let’s get out of here. My place? I slide the pad over and watch his expression as he reads. That smirky smile is back.
He yanks the pen out of my hand and scribbles something so fast, I blink once and the pad is back in front of me. YOU LIVE ALONE?
Yes. Why?
I WOULDN’T WANT TO SCARE YOUR ROOMMATE WHEN I MAKE YOU SCREAM MY NAME ALL NIGHT LONG!
In a flash, we’re both off our stools. General throws down a small stack of cash on the bar as I start my trek to the door. It takes a few “excuse mes” and sideways shift walking to get through the crowd, but by the time I step out onto the sidewalk, he’s right behind me with his large hands gripping my hips. Pressing us forward, we begin our walk with his front molded to my back, and I can feel his excitement against my butt. And if my imagination is as good as I’m hoping, I’m in for one hell of a night.
Needing to think with the limited smart logic I still have left, I unwrap myself from General, then grab his hand to lead him across the still busy street. There isn’t much traffic, but people are out and about on foot, and I’d rather not crash into anyone in a sex haze.
We travel down a couple blocks to the street-level entry door of my second-floor apartment. The first floor is a hat store, then the second, third, and fourth floors are individual apartments. I access mine by a door to the left of the store, set back in a small alcove, but I’m currently fumbling with my keys because someone has warm wandering hands.
Sliding his hands under my t-shirt, sending my body flooding with goosebumps and shivers, General is doing a very good job of distracting me from my mission of getting us upstairs while still clothed. I can already feel the rough calluses covering his hand and fingers, and if we weren’t in sight of who knows how many people, I’d jump his bones right here.
The lock finally gives way and I push the door open. Reaching behind me, I pull him along with me to get away from anyone’s nosey eyes.
Our trek up the stairs sounds like a heard of elephants in a drum store, but once we crash into my apartment door, all I hear is panting—mine.
We hit the door with a thud, and General’s lips finally touch my skin for the first time, nibbling and licking my neck like I’m his favorite ice cream cone.
“Are you gonna invite me all the way in?” he grunts between kisses. “Or are we going to skip to the good part out here on the landing?”
“Inside,” I say as I somehow manage to get my front door unlocked and open with no fuss.
The door slams shut behind us and clothes start flying. Well, his do, at least. He’s down to only a pair of dark gray boxer briefs, while I’m still standing here in my shirt, jean shorts, and rust red Converse.
Naked chest. The nakedest chest of all naked chests. I’ve seen my fair share of partially and fully naked men in my couple years of being a home health aide but never one like this. There’s a small sprinkling of chest hair between his pecs, but it’s the six-pack abs that draw my attention.
“So, this is what they mean by washboard abs,” I mutter, my devil brain taking control of my words. “Think you can help me with my laundry once we’re done? I have some towels that need scrubbing.”