Charlatan Charm

4: The Heat

A blindfold. Lucan had made a makeshift blindfold out of a handkerchief from his closet. Charm had no concerns nor fear—it was excitement that was buzzing through her, like a faint shock of electricity down her spine that had her rattling in anticipation. Euphoria was a few minutes away and the only way to get there was by waiting patiently. The only alarming thing that occurred to the girl was the possibility of her mascara getting smudged when Luke tightened the knot behind her head. Other than that, she was all right.

With her sense of sight gone, it was up to her tongue to bring her victory. The two made a little deal: guess four dishes out of six and Charm gets the whole triple chocolate cake for dessert. It wasn't a bargain too serious, but they weren't feeling serious—they were feeling fun; they were looking for fun.

The young woman felt the couch dip from her right, indicating that Lucan had sat down. Despite not being able to see, she could still feel. She felt herself be positioned on Lucan's lap sideways. If the girl was aroused just seconds ago, the same delight heightened from the friction of his denim pants against her bare legs. Her dress inched up, and to taunt the girl, Lucan pulled at the hem to cover her exposed skin that she liked having exposed.

Luke slithered one arm around the woman's waist as the hand of the other reached for a spoon. She squirmed involuntarily on top of Lucan, and the boy did not let it go unnoticed. He chuckled, low and tantalizing, "Calm down," he spoke softly.

That made it worse. Charm was dying from delirium. Lucan, having the upper hand, took a moment to examine the woman in his arms. There's just something so erotic about not being able to see what the other person is doing. There's also something so erotic about knowing that you have the power to do anything you want to a willing partner. He was never into those creative sexscapades he always heard from media and friends, but with Charm blindfolded on top of him, he was starting to reconsider a few things.

Luke felt his pants tighten when the woman licked her plump pink lips . He had to use all of his self-control not to kiss the girl and throw her dress to the floor there and then. Lucan scanned the food on the low table, deciding to go with the easiest-to-guess serving for the first item. He dipped the spoon into the sweet and sour chicken, sure that anyone would know what a sweet and sour dish tastes like.

The man and all his attention were on the spoon as its metal curve brushed against Charm's soft lips. The girl flinched at first before parting her mouth, Luke slipping a fraction of the utensil in. He pulled it away and watched the young woman lick her lips again, tongue flicking in her mouth to identify the taste. Then, she smiled, innocent and seductive at the same time, if such a thing were possible.

"Too easy," she laughed, "Sweet and sour."

Her laugh triggered his, "That was a bonus," he teased, one hand caressing her thighs. Charm's back arched at the contact. A warm solicited touch is always pleasurable, always appreciated—always s****l, it seems, as perceived by the woman.

Luke scanned the table again, this time going with something of intermediate difficulty. He dipped his spoon into a small serving of beef stew, one of his favorites that the restaurant cooks with a twist: it's made creamy.

"Next one," he muttered while drawing the spoon to Charm's mouth. Again, he watched her soft lips touch the utensil, a bit of the sauce trickling down one corner of her lips. Luke placed the spoon on the table and with one thumb, brushed the drip away and tasted the sauce himself. To identify the flavor, she sucked on her lower lip. Lucan can imagine her mouth elsewhere.

"How the hell am I supposed to guess that?" she wondered. Her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead and Luke found her frustration quite adorable.

To aid her a bit more, he grabbed the spoon, scooped a piece of meat, and put it into her mouth. She nodded slowly after swallowing, "Beef," Charm mumbled, "Some kinda beef stew, but it tastes different," shrugged, "Better, actually."

He couldn't help himself. Luke kissed the tip of her nose, "Two points," he announced. And as if he really could not help himself, he laid his lips on her neck, planting a few kisses before pulling away. Unlike she can help it either, Charm writhed and laid a hand on his knee to keep herself steady. That tiny touch—the subtle pressure on his leg—had Lucan's mind tripping one foot into the gutter.

He gulped, and before he can compromise the game completely, spoke, "Next one."

Luke opted for a difficult third item. The spoon scooped some pasta, "Open," he ordered.

Amused, the man watched the girl's face morph into a mask of confusion as she chewed more and more. After swallowing, she wondered, "What the f**k was that?" it was pasta, obviously, but what recipe? she thought, though appreciated that it was very delicious.

"You lose a point when I tell you."

"Go ahead," said the woman. She shifted in her Lucan chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep herself steady. The neckline of her dress lowered, baring more of her chest to the man.

"Masala pasta," he told her, "Indian," he added and kissed her again, this time on the cheek.

She groaned in defeat before saying "Next one."

Luke chose the next dish, and instead of brushing the spoon against Charm's lips, he smothered the sauce on his own. Slowly, his face inched closer and closer to Charm's. Then ever so gently, as if meaning to tease the sanity out of the woman, his lips grazed hers.

Charm smiled when she felt his kiss. Before Lucan could pull away, her hands grasped his cheeks and brought his mouth in for more. She tasted the sauce on him, but the sauce had the least of her attention. Charm cannot remember the last time she had been this aroused. Maybe not ever. The whole game was an excuse for foreplay, she believes. It's her first time having her sense of seeing completely taken away for something s****l, and that somehow multiplied the arousal.

She could not see him, but she felt him. She felt his eager kiss. She felt his hand grab at one cheek of her behind. She felt him bite one strap of her dress and pull it down her shoulder. She heard him too. She heard him groan low when she sucked on his lip. She heard him curse when his fingers discovered her wetness. She heard him moan quietly when she squeezed the bulge in his pants.

Luke led the woman into a straddling position on his lap. He gazed at the beautiful mess that was Charm Harlow: her hair unkempt due to the handkerchief, her lips wet and puffy from their kiss, and her dress barely covering anything to her cluelessness.

Lucan gripped her hips and rocked her back and forth, grinding her covered entrance against the lump in his jeans. Then, wanting to see more of Charm, he pulled the top part of her dress down and bared her chest to his greedy eyes. The man cupped Charm's cheeks and guided her face to his for another kiss. The grinding went on and brought thick agony unto Lucan. He was so hard it was painful.

The kiss lasted long and only ended when Luke bunched her dress in his hands and pulled the article of clothing completely off over her head. He was mildly surprised that the blindfold was still on. As if reading his mind, Charm reached for the back of her head, intending to untie the knot only for her hands to be captured by Lucan's.

Against her ear, he spoke, breathless, "Keep it on, baby."

The wave of lust that washed over her was overwhelming. She kissed him hard, wanting—no, needing to show her hunger by the lips. While their tongues played between their mouths, Charm heard the zip of his fly slide down.

Even though he said 'Not impulsive f*****g', the man kept protection in his pocket. They both knew that what he said was bullshit. Lucan rolled the rubber down his shaft and moved the sheer fabric of Charm's undergarment to the side. Then, taking advantage of the woman's flustered and blind state, he teased by brushing the head against her wet entrance.

Anything Luke would do was unpredictable to Charm. She struggled to keep still in her position—arms around his neck, knees keeping her upright. The girl felt Lucan spread her own wetness using his tip. She anticipated his push, his thrust, his slow entrance into her. When it came, a whimper slipped out of her mouth.

Inch after inch was taken by the woman. By the time she reached his base, her walls were throbbing deliciously around his hardness. Unable to see, Charm only felt. Her hands found leverage on Lucan's chest—fingers gripping his button-up. Luke took control. Hands on her hips, he bounced her up and down.

There was heat everywhere for Charm. Her face burned from the knee-melting sensation of Luke sliding in and out. Her core grew hot from the friction where their bodies connected. Her chest felt like it was smoldering from within by the way her lungs drew in more air than she usually needs. Even her neck felt warm from Lucan's breath against her skin, mouth leaving open kisses, sucking, and licking right after.

"I thought you said no impulsive f*****g," Charm commented. It came as a breathless whisper in the air between them. Beneath her palms on his shirt, the woman felt his chest rumble when he chuckled shortly.

"Why?" he pecked her lips, "You want me to stop?"

She found the buttons of his shirt and undid one after the other. "I never said that," Charm told him before she picked up her pace. Once the middle had flown open, her fingertips explored the skin of Luke's chest and dragged them down the muscles that built his abdomen, feeling them flex slightly when he'd thrust up.

They went on like that, growing sweatier by the minute. When the woman reached her peak, it was Lucan's cue for his own release. Together, they relished the rain of pleasure that they achieved through mutual effort. They were gripping on each other for support, mouths releasing frustration through groans, moans, and kisses in between. The young woman fell on top of Lucan and it was only then he rid her of the blindfold.

She blinked once, twice, a few times until her eyes have adjusted. Luke's face was the first that registered in her frame of view: his gorgeous features forming a mask of tiredness and satisfaction. Whiskey-brown eyes gazed down at the girl, wondering why she looked so shy—as if they have not done before whatever they just did. Her face fell to Luke's chest and they remained unmoving for a while, just two bodies with their arms tangled around each other. They had formed a bubble of silence, one that provided comfort from the outside world. That bubble, thin as it was, simple as it was, felt a bit like home.

Charm's words came as an inside joke to herself, "You're a liar," commented the young woman, pertaining to no impulsive f*****g once again.

"I promised nothing," said Luke, presenting a loophole.

Charm sat up and they stared at each other for a while again. She suddenly felt shy around Lucan, believing that it's the aftermath of getting f****d without having a clue of what the hell she looked like or what the hell she did involuntarily. That was only half a reason of why she was timid out of the blue. She racked her brain for the other half.

Lucan cut the silence with words, "You wanna stay over?"

She wanted to. Charm nodded, an adlib for Aunt Trish already formed in her sharp-witted head.

Her answer pleased the man. "Good," he said against her forehead.

Charm did not want to break their hug, but Luke had slipped away before she could protest. He walked to his closet and all the woman could do was mentally drool at the sight of Lucan—shirtless, jeans unzipped, back and chest decorated with scratches, a few light hickies, and some lipstick.

With a cliche in mind, he grabbed one of the shirts he wears at home only, walked back to his girl, and offered the piece. Charm appreciated the initiative. She wondered if Lucan Hendrix is perfect. Surely he has flaws, right? Maybe?

Once the shirt was on, the man sat down and she was on top again. The food had been forgotten.

"I'll just send a text to my aunt later," Charm told him.

"Sure," said Luke. His eyebrows pulled at the middle, "I keep forgetting that you have to ask people for permission."

"I hate it, trust me," Charm could not wait to really be in college, move out, and be free. The lies would minimize then, "They think I'm still a baby."

"Well, you're an only child," he shrugged, "I guess it's understandable. With siblings or not, everyone has their struggles."

Charm found a turn for the conversation and took it, not wanting to talk about her family much in worry of anything slipping, even if her lying abilities are top tier, "Oh? What's it like being the water boy?" she asked, using the comparison Lucan presented days before.

He smiled tenderly at the title. Charm's head fell to his chest and she felt it vibrate when he talked, "No one gave a s**t about me. When you have six children, some are bound to feel neglected. Sounds terrible, but it had its benefits."

"I can't relate, but I wanna hear it," she mumbled. Her lids fell close and a second later, felt Lucan's hand reach up to stroke her brown locks.

It was not the first time that Luke was asked to tell someone what it's like being in his family. Charm's peaceful state cued him to fall into his own. The man closed his eyes, relaxing, and spoke, "The bad things first?"

He continued when he felt her nod, "Well, there was the shitty hand-me-downs, the frequent accusations of who finished the ice cream in the fridge, the emergencies at school, and the everyday competitions. There was favoritism, of course, even when my parents said that they loved us equally; others felt it more than others."

Behind his eyes, Luke was recalling all the times he felt ignored. Feeling neglected was the least. Being insulted for his choice of career and way of living is the most. Even until now, reunions feel like court trials. Family dinners ruin the holidays for Lucan. He'd rather spend them alone than have six people around a table boast about their lavish lifestyles for him to feel low. The only person who could understand is now living in Asia, quite a flight away.

Charm was relaxed—more relaxed than she had ever been in months. The woman melted against Luke's warmth. She smelled him in every inhale and she loved it. Charm cleared her throat and spoke, "All my things are new. I have my own pints of ice cream."

Luke smiled at that, "Lucky you," and even with his eyes closed, he was able to locate her forehead to kiss.

"And the good things?" asked Charm.

"The freedom," a smirk was on as he said this, "What I do, my siblings have done before. Mom and dad allowed me whatever."

Charm groaned in envy, "Lucky you," she quoted him, "I had to lie all the time."

Luke opened his eyes and watched Charm's fingers mindlessly trace imaginary patterns on his arm, "As I said: everyone has their struggles," he told her.

"But why do I feel like you still have it worse?" she opened her eyes and peered up, seeing a man who might possibly be the most gorgeous one she'll ever encounter.

"Because," he swallowed, giving himself a second to debate backing out from sharing information. Lucan did not mind her knowing, but he didn't want to pressure Charm by spilling anything heavy. He decided to put it vaguely, "My family's made up of lawyers and doctors. Here I am, an art teacher living in an apartment complex. Single. Almost thirty."

Charm stared at Luke. No flaws yet, but problems, yes, they're present. She leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose just like he did with her minutes ago. She spoke again, "I see nothing wrong with that. Especially the single part. I believe that's easy to fix."

I'm choosy, actually, Luke wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut. Charm would not understand since she's exactly his type of woman anyway. The pressure it would put is unnecessary.

"And you're not just an art teacher," Charm added, "You're an artist. A great one." Lucan already knew that, but it hit differently coming from Charm Harlow. They had two things similar, it occurred to him: they both love art and they both believe in Luke.

The mindless smile that appeared on the man's face had Charm feeling prideful. Regardless if they last or not, the woman promised herself to support his passion. Not as someone she's associated with, but as a fellow lover in the same blessed field.

Her head c****d to the left as she stared at Lucan. She could go on for hours, and those hours, uneventful as they are, would not feel wasted to the girl. However, she cut the stare-off short, "Do I get the cake?"

Lucan chuckled and there it was again: pride in her chest. "Yes," he grabbed her hand and kissed her finger tips, "All the chocolate cake you want."

The cake was waiting for them in the fridge. Charm took all the chocolate dessert she wanted, as Lucan insisted, sparing a decent fraction for the man. They ate in bed, talked in bed, and did other things in bed. Aunt Trish was considerate, partly because she's not as strict of a guardian anyway and partly because she did not feel like holding the young woman back. Charm deserves some summer fun, the aunt thought when the girl asked for permission, saying that she'd like to spend the night with a few girl friends. Lucan is far from a teen girl bestie.

They opted for a movie. It was typical and fitting. Thirty minutes in, as the two laid on Lucan's bed—arms around one another, chocolate cakes in their stomachs, the film had been neglected. It started when the man's hand found her thigh and started stroking. It was followed by Charm innocently kissing the man's neck and shoulders. Thirty more minutes later, they found themselves butt-naked with the woman on all fours and Luke on his knees behind her.

It was Wednesday in a few hours. Although neither of them wanted to, Charm had to go home in the morning to pick up her art materials, to shower, and to change her clothes. When the young woman woke up, the change in surroundings was the first thing she realized. Next was the warm body behind her, muscular back to her own. Charm found a flaw then: Lucan Hendrix moves too much when he's asleep.

She traced his back. Her fingertips hovered over the few scratches still visible. The whole bed smelled like Lucan—Lucan and s*x, to be precise, and she indulged in it. Gently, her face neared the man's skin. The light marks were nursed with pleasant kisses. That woke him up. The delight that Luke found when he turned and found a messily beautiful Charm Harlow in his bed was a feeling he had not felt in a while. It was a warning for him.

They ate leftovers for breakfast. There were no dull nor awkward moments the whole morning that led up to Charm being driven back to the corner of her street. She enjoyed every minute more or as much as he did.

"See you in..." she glanced at the built-in clock on his vehicle, "Two hours."

His response came with a s**t-eating grin on his alluring face, "See you," and a kiss came after.

As Charm walked to Trish's home, she was in a state of mixed feelings. A part of her was numb. The morning—the whole night, even, was one of those wonderful things that need to be processed after it happened. She was also happy, and that was the most emphasized feeling she was able to identify. If she were to be completely honest, which she rarely is, Charm was also anxious. To change one's age to have a shot at someone is as bad as it sounds, especially if that someone is strict with the age range of the women he dates.

This bugged Charm as she entered the house and greeted France with a simple nod. Aunt Trish had already left for work. Even as she stood under the shower, showering for the second time within the day, the fear of getting a negative reaction from Luke bothered her. As she packed her essentials for the class, it was still a concern weighing like a rock in her head.

"You lied, didn't you?"

France's words prompted a break from her reverie. She looked around and saw that they had arrived at Coral Grove Institute. The place looks the same as last week. It felt like a month had passed.

"What?" she asked, slinging her bag strap over one shoulder.

France licked his lips while his slim fingers drummed against the wheel, "You weren't with friends last night," he stated. Then, scared that Charm might get the wrong message, he laughed dryly and added "It's fine, I understand, but if you want this to work, you're gonna have to be honest to me, at least. Mom was worried sick before you called and I didn't know what to tell her."

An apology was mandatory, "I'm sorry," she said, "And you're right. I was with Luke. I-I'll tell you next time," she found it difficult to say the last line. She lies so much that she felt like lying to France too even though it's not needed. Charm made a mental note to be honest to her cousin. That note was pinned on the front of her head.

"Just..." he sighed, thin shoulders dropping, "Be careful, okay?"

"I will," for reassurance, she smiled.

They exited the car and five minutes later, Charm found herself with the knob to her classroom in her hand. She twisted it and entered, pleased to find Lucan on a stool, pencil in hand and a sheet on the easel in front of him.

"Good afternoon, sir," the girl greeted.

Like strings were attached to the corners of their lips, grins stretched across their faces. Whoever pulling the ends had great grip. Charm walked to the man, blocked his work, and wrapped arms around his waist.

"You saw me this morning," Lucan chuckled against her hair. He felt that she missed her even though they woke up next to each other literally hours ago. Dangerous, he thought, very dangerous.

"That's not a reason not to hug you," she murmured.

Their alone time was limited. People would be arriving any minute. Lucan melted in the girl's embrace, though he kept drawing behind her. The lead drew an outline from Lucan's imagination. It was a rough sketch, mostly just shapes and some indicators of where to shade. It was a scene from the movie they watched last night. Tried to watch, he corrected.

Their peace was rattled when the doorknob sounded. After hearing the first attempt to twist the internally rusty thing, Charm detached herself from Luke. The door opened when she took a step away from Lucan. The stranger that appeared was not a stranger to Luke. Charm swore that she had seen the man before, in hallways from another day, most likely. The lace and ID around his neck confirmed it—he's another coordinator.

"Tucker," Lucan greeted, "Anything I can help you with?"

Tucker did not look special. He's the typical aging man. Probably in his early fifties or late forties, Charm thought. She noted his salt and pepper hair, more salty than peppery. His beard was of the same color. To make him more stereotypical, he was wearing a cotton shirt and dark blue jeans under a checkered flannel. A cap and a ring of keys were hooked to his belt loops.

The Tucker man observed the other two people in the room. His old eyes flickered between the facilitator and one of his students. Tucker cleared his throat, "I was just checking the rooms before the halls get filled," he explained.

Charm felt the angst. Just by the way Lucan and Tucker stared at each other, she could tell that there was something, and it was far from pleasant. Each man disliked the other, if not hated.

"We're good, thank you," said Lucan. It translated to 'f**k off.'

The old man smiled, "I see," and nodded politely at the other two. Without another word, he left. Charm didn't like him either. A second after Tucker had left, something clicked in her head: Tucker's voice was also familiar. She remembered it from her first day—when she eavesdropped in front of the classroom. Lucan was arguing with Tucker.

"Who was that?" she wondered as she watched Luke sigh and proceed with his sketch.

"Crusty old man Tucker," he muttered, "Hates my guts. He was the art director before I came along. Man thinks I stole his job."

Charm's brows bounced, "Art director? You failed to mention that."

Lucan smirked and it was boyish on his manly features, "Not that big of a deal. Someone had to be it."

Charm Harlow made her way back to Lucan and laid her elbows on his lap. She held her face up by her palms to her cheeks, "Did you see the way he looked at us?"

Lucan pouted and it was adorable as it was sexy, "It's not like what we're doing is bad. You're grown, you can make your own decisions."

I'm grown, but not as grown as you think, she thought.

"Well, you are older than me by a handful of years I guess?" peering up at Lucan, the anxiety from earlier came creeping in again.

Luke's face softened. His index finger settled under Charm's chin and he tilted her face up, "I see others with twenty years. Eight isn't a big deal, baby."

Usually she has her reactions under control. This time, Charm gulped before she was able to stop it, "Yeah... eight. Only eight."

He kissed her cheek, "At least you're not eighteen or below," said Lucan, "That would stir things."

Charm laughed and hoped that she did not sound as nervous as she was, "Yeah."