Painful Pleasures

A Tease

After three consecutive hours of lying in my bed fighting against my better judgment to text Nate and demanding that he meet me now rather than our agreed time, I decided I should distract myself by going out. I still had a bunch of errands to run and things to do now that I was officially settled into my new apartment. I needed to find a steady day job, at least something to bring in extra income apart from writing. My savings won’t last forever and with my unpredictable writer’s block, and the small salary Phantasm pays me, I can’t afford to depend on my writing alone. At least not yet. I also needed to go grocery shopping if I planned on saving some money. But I really hate grocery shopping. It’s so tedious and tiring. I always end up forgetting something or getting the wrong ingredients. Not to mention getting the groceries to my building and getting them to my door would be a hassle without the use of my parent’s car and Eli. Of course, I can just have them delivered, but service fees for big orders can be annoying. Maybe I should look into financing a car, but can I really afford that with everything else right now? Thinking about the monthly expenses that go into it gives me a headache. I’ll just have to shop lightly for a while, only buying what I can carry. Then it finally occurred to me that I could simply ask Jamila. I don’t want to start bugging her, but surely she’ll understand, considering I don’t have many people out here I can ask. Once I get the hang of this, I’ll find another way to handle business on my own. When I called, she didn’t pick up. It was a weekday, so maybe she’s at work. Just my luck. The first job interview was a bust. I walked out half way through because it seemed sketchy. The second was at an appealingly nice restaurant, but as I entered the back rooms and took notice of the employees and what they were doing, I decided against working there. There were so many ants and the place was filthy and disorganized. Not to mention, the entire staff was elderly. I don’t have a problem with older coworkers, but from my experience, working with almost an entire staff of older people can be frustrating and uncomfortable. A lot of them will look down on you since you’re young or try to walk over you since they worked there longer. Not to mention, it can be incredibly boring not being able to relate or talk to anyone. I mean, I’m not married with kids, nor am I preparing for retirement anytime soon, so there wouldn’t be much I can add to a conversation. The 3rd place I visited wasn’t too bad. The manager interviewing me was really nice and laid back. The other employees also seemed relaxed and well cared for. Makes me wonder why this place is hiring in the first place. The pay is nice and the environment is clean and lively. I’d be crazy to pass it up. She said she’d give me a call soon. It'd be a miracle if I could score a job within the first week. Having that worry off my shoulders would be a huge relief. I looked at the time as I was heading back home. I had just enough time to get ready for Nate.

When I said I had just enough time, I lied. I was extremely late trying to get to the address Nate had sent me. I had gotten transportation messed up and ended up taking the wrong bus. Nate had texted me several times to see where I was. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him for leaving. I would have if my date kept me waiting this long. I was out of breath when I finally arrived, though I willed my lungs to take slower inhales to stop myself from panting. I was surprised to see it was a bookstore. I double checked his messages to be sure I was at the right place. I went inside assuming it was one of those cafes with a bookstore. I’d dressed up expecting to go to a restaurant, so I was feeling a little out of place. It was a cute little store with bright colors and flowers everywhere. Turns out there was no cafe, but a delightful flower shop in the bookstore. The smell of soil and sweet petals complimented the smell of fresh ink and old pages. I spotted Nate in the nonfiction section of the store, flipping through a thick book. I made my way over, stopping when I read the cover. It was a true crime novel. Being in an unfamiliar place has left me on edge and I find myself seeking out the smallest signs of danger. Maybe I’d been wrong about him all this time and the universe was trying to send me a sign. I was about to turn around and leave until he looked up at me and smiled. I could still have left, but that smile of his was deadly. It held me frozen in place and a devious thought came to mind. He’d be a very handsome killer. Well, maybe not a killer. He doesn’t look like he has it in him. But then again, what did I know? Maybe a tormentor. Maybe he’d be the type to tie you to the ceiling and strip you naked. He’d use a knife to gently leave small cuts on your body. Then he’d treat them with alcohol so they wouldn’t get infected. He’d go nice and slow so you can really feel the burn. The thought of him running his cold hands over my sensitive skin as I hung there, helpless and vulnerable, gave me chills. I shook the thought away. I spent one night with this guy and I'd turned into a masochist. Maybe I’d been talking too much with Jamila. She had me looking into stuff like that and now I can’t get it out of my head. I shouldn’t be taking pleasure from this. It wouldn’t suit me.

“Aida?” He called me. I stupidly answered ‘huh?’, unaware he had been speaking to me. A laugh escaped his lips as he repeated himself. “I asked if you were a fan of Andrew Cullen. He was a pretty popular journalist back in the 80s. He specialized in stories on the mentally insane and would spend months researching the residence of Conwell Asylum.” I cringed.

“Oh um, I don’t think I’ve heard of him. That type of stuff is a little too…gory for me. Is that what you’re into?” He shrugged.

“My mother likes his books. She had an entire collection of novels dedicated to true crime when I was younger. Creeped me out immensely since she would randomly tell me facts I didn’t want to hear. When I got into law school, I took some interest since I originally wanted to be a prosecutor.” He laughed. “I thought reading stuff like this would give me insight and motivation, but it only steered me away from that profession. Still, I watch documentaries with her from time to time. I asked, because you mentioned wanting to explore a different genre of writing a while ago.”

“And you think I should start interviewing serial killers?”

“Of course not. Actually, engaging with alleged criminals is far more unnerving than reading about them.” His expression hardened. “I wouldn’t recommend that for you.” He put the book back. “Though, if you want to go outside your comfort zone, people like thrillers.”

“Mmm, I prefer imaginary monsters. It’s much more likable and entertaining when you don’t have to worry about it happening in real life.” He nodded and walked over toward the fiction section. I watched as he read the labels, searching for something.

“Then what about, Enid Cooper?” He picked out a book with a black cover and beady red eyes. “She was my favorite author growing up as I adored slasher films. But she does really well creating more cryptic stories. You’re right about imaginary monsters being more entertaining.” He handed me the book and I turned it around to read the back. It was the first book of a series stationed around rewriting creepypasta stories in more detail. Nate had gone off to pick up more books that piqued his interest, so I did the same. I looked for some of my favorite authors as well as those I’ve been interested in checking out. I tried not to get too excited as I was not in the position to drop my entire savings on books. I’d decided on five books and went to the register to pay for them. Nate was waiting for me. He gave me another knee-weakening smile and I tripped on the carpet. My face grew hot and I wanted to run out of the store. Nate held out a hand to steady me, but I declined it, too embarrassed to face him.

“I’m so sorry, we’re in the process of getting new carpet. That little divot always gets people.” The store clerk said.

“You’ve been saying that for months now, just say you’re too cheap,” Nate said. The clerk glared at him.

“Why don’t you take care of it for us since you’re so well off? Call it charity.” She shot back and I handed her the books I selected.

“I could give you the money to completely remodel, yet that divot will remain.”

“We prioritize saving for a bigger store.” Nate rolled his eyes. I felt a little awkward standing there. It was obvious they were close. Was she an ex-fling, perhaps, an old friend?

“I’m sure you believe that.” He glanced at one of the books she was ringing up and interrupted. “Not that one.”

“But I wanted to start that series.” I protested. “Is it bad?”

“Not in my opinion. I actually think the author is brilliant, but it’s an acquired taste. Most people don’t like the approach of the first book in this series and tend to abandon it. I already own the series, so it'd be better if I lend it to you first before you decide on buying it.” He takes the book away and asks the clerk to ring the rest under his account, taking the price down by half. He held the bag and guided me out of the store.

“Friend of yours?” I asked, not really interested, but if she was going to be a problem, I’d like to know ahead of time.

“Wouldn’t say we’re friends. She’s my cousin, though we don’t get along much.”

“I can see that. You must come by a lot.”

“Not as much as you would think. I was born here, so this is where most of my friends and family reside. I mainly visit for business and holidays though.”

“Is there a reason you wanted to meet me at a bookstore instead of a restaurant? I don’t mind it, but I'm feeling a little overdressed.” He smiled and led me down the street.

“I thought it’d be a nice change of scenery. I wouldn’t want all of our dates to be stationed around dining and grinding. I thought we’d explore a bit before lunch, seeing as you had just moved to the area. I thought you’d like that.”

“I would, I do,” I confirmed. “I just wish I’d known, I’d have been more prepared.”

“Is it the shoes?” He looked down at my heels, worried.

“Um…I should be fine. They aren’t too high. Plus, I tend to wear heels pretty often, so I’m used to it.” He didn’t look very convinced. I didn’t want to ruin his plans by making him take me home to change.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. Hell yeah! Is what I wanted to say. I hadn’t eaten all morning and my anxiety seemed to be making me hungrier. But I didn’t really want to eat yet. I feared eating would leave me wanting wine again and that would just make me horny and the date would be cut short.

“I can wait.” He glanced at me and I put on a reassuring smile. He led me to his car. As he drove, I caught myself stealing glances at him. This was a different type of sluttiness from him. I don’t know why, but watching a man work any type of machinery tends to send chills through me. He’s so in control, so relaxed, so focused. Plus, his car was basking in his cologne. I didn’t know whether he did it on purpose or we were just too close. It made me want to reach over and- I pushed it away. Those are the types of intrusive thoughts I’m trying to avoid. When he shifted in his seat, my eyes landed on his lap and I started to fantasize about straddling him. Would the roof of the car be high enough? How far back could his seat go? Would it startle him if I reached over and touched him? That’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Would I ruin the date if I insisted on having lunch at my place instead of going out? I’m annoying myself. I want to yell at my brain to be quiet. If I keep thinking like this, I’ll lose it. He’ll start to think I’m just a warm body. Just as I was finally silencing my thoughts, I felt his hand caress my knee. I jumped and cursed myself. I wasn’t afraid, but his touch had sent a jolt through me I hadn’t expected. I saw him hesitate and retreat. I bit my lip as punishment. Would being a warm body be the worst thing in the world?

“You look stunning, by the way. I love your color coordination. It suits you.”

“Thank you, you look dashing yourself. You're teasing me with those slutty forearms of yours and those caked-up khakis. You surely don’t skip out on leg day. Nate laughs, his teeth sparkling. My heart leaps. Is he blushing? I smile to myself and his hand returns, though now it’s squeezing my thigh. I fight back the shivers I can feel rising as a wave of heat moves down my body. I wanted him to touch me so badly, my body was begging. He must have known since his hand was moving up my thigh. I found myself holding my breath as it ran to the hem of my skirt. He squeezed again, gently grazing his fingertips against my inner thigh. I shifted, wanting to force his hand where I wanted it, but he moved down every time. He did this several times andI was starting to think it was on purpose. I couldn’t stop myself from squirming in my seat. I thought I was being rather subtle until I glanced over at him to see him watching me. He was grinning knowingly. What a tease. I shifted so that my skirt rose up my thighs for him to see. I wanted him to want me just as bad if not more than I wanted him. His eyes trailed over my legs. I slowly crossed them, pausing just long enough for him to catch a peek of my panties. He smiled and bit his lip, looking back at the road as the light changed. I didn’t want to be ignored. I was about to suggest we go somewhere quiet until he reached and pulled my skirt back down. I tried to cross my legs again, but he held my leg still, squeezed once more before returning it to the wheel. Was he rejecting me? I waited, but the tension that seemed to flood the car had vanished, at least from him. I crossed my arms and pouted, giving him the cold shoulder. A sharp breath escaped him and I looked back to see him holding back a smile. Moreover, it looked as though he were laughing. He didn’t touch me for the remainder of the ride.

Nate walked me into an expensive shoe store. I hesitated at the door, not sure if it would be appropriate of me to go along with him.

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked.

“Why are we here? I said I’d be fine in my heels.”

“And risk those pretty feet of yours getting blisters?” He held out his hand, reassuring me that it was okay.

“Still, you can get flats from a much cheaper store.”

“And ruin the quality of your outfit?” He ran his thumb over my knuckles, the shivers came again. “Does this make you uncomfortable? I won’t insist if it bothers you.”

“No, I just don’t want you to regret this later.”

“Why would I?” When I didn’t answer, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I don’t mind. I’d be sad if I learned you were in pain all day. It’s my fault for not letting you know ahead of time. Allow me to fix it.” He squeezed my hand and I nodded. I started to browse, but he insisted I sit and wait while he picked out something for me. I immediately debunked anything I would never buy with my own money. He then came to me with a cute pair of flats that went well with my outfit. He seemed really proud of his selection. They were still a bit pricey, but he insisted we get them. As the clerk was ringing them up, my anxiety got the best of me. If I accept this from him, I’d owe him a debt and that left a foul taste in my mouth. I like Nate and I wouldn’t mind performing favors for him, but not if it feels like an obligation. He kneeled in front of me and started to put the shoes on me. They had a gorgeous lace that wrapped around my leg.

“Nate, I’ll only wear these for the day. You should return them after.”

“What for? They look lovely on you. Why not keep them?”

“Because I can’t afford to pay you back right now.” He laughed.

“It’s a gift. You don’t have to pay me back.” He could see I was full of doubt. I didn’t believe him entirely. A lot of people say things they don’t mean, but he’ll be offended if I insist he’s lying. He frowned anyway and kissed my leg. Another shiver ran through me. “If you truly don’t feel comfortable accepting them, I’ll take them, but I’d really like it if you kept them. I have no ulterior motives, but it’s up to you to believe me.” I blushed. The way he was looking up at me and rubbing my leg was making me nervous.

“I’ll keep them, but just this once. No more expensive gifts from now on. Not until I can gift you the same way.”

“Shoes?” He asked, his brows furrowed. “That’s really not necessary.”

“No, not shoes. I mean…expensive gifts.” My face is growing hotter. This conversation is embarrassing me because now I feel broke.

“I don’t need expensive gifts. I care more about what a gift means than how much it costs. It’s not a competition, so don’t worry about trying to match the costs. As long as it’s meaningful, I’ll accept whatever you give me.”

I looked away, shameful, but also doubtful. In my family, if someone gives you something of a certain value, you return it in equal or higher value. It’s only fair. Otherwise, you risk appearing careless or cheap. Everyone I’d encountered often had the same morals. Sure, people say not to worry about it, but deep down, they expect you to go all out for them. To avoid this, most people set strict boundaries when it comes to gift giving. If you can’t do the same for them, you shouldn’t accept it. I’ll find some way to repay Nate, but for now I just smiled and thanked him. We didn’t go back to the car, instead we took a stroll. He led me around the busy area, pointing out stores he liked. He told me where to go for good deals on business casual clothing. We’d stopped and he showed me a small little cafe he liked. Apparently, they were famous for their fluffy donuts. He purchased 2 and I ordered iced black tea. The donuts were bigger than I expected, fluffy with filling in the middle. The toppings were decorative and pretty. It was one of the best pastries I’d ever had. It was warm and lightly crispy as though it was fresh out the fryer. The filling reminded me of apple pie and the icing and chocolates on top melted in my mouth. If I’d known they’d be this good, I’d have told him to get more. He pointed out famous tourist attractions, noting the places and activities that were overrated. I was glad he insisted on having me change my shoes because we were walking for quite a while and my feet were starting to get tired. We cut through a national park and took a break on the bench. A cold breeze swept through the trees. Summer was ending and fall was creeping in. In the distance, I could hear kids playing. I could hear the rippling sound of water from the nearby pond. For such a large city, I was surprised it could feel so calm, that it could be so quiet.

“Do you miss home yet?” Nate asked.

“Ha! If you’re referring to my parent’s home, then no. Do I miss Chicago? I don’t know yet. I miss the familiarity, not feeling lost whenever I step outside my door. But I’ll be fine. Do you?”

“Sometimes…Manhattan is a lovely city, but sometimes it can feel so…claustrophobic. I’m always surrounded by strangers and endless tall buildings. But I mainly miss having more time with my family. We’re all so busy nowadays. My parents are always traveling, so I don’t see them as much as I used to.”

He looked sad. I wanted to console him. I wanted to hold his hand. Are we close enough for me to hug him so casually? Would it be awkward while we’re in public? I inched my hand toward him, but chickened out. He leaned down to my ear.

“Do I make you nervous?” he whispered. I jumped and turned away.

“Why would you think that?”

“Why didn’t you hold my hand? You clearly wanted to.”

“I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Are you sure it's not you who’d be uncomfortable?” He kissed my shoulder and placed his hand into mine. I bit my lip to keep from smiling. His lips didn’t leave my skin, they trailed up toward my neck. I glanced around, worried someone was watching. He turned my head toward his and kissed me. I realized then how long I'd been waiting for him. “Do you feel uncomfortable?” I shook my head, pulling him back in. Shivers were running through me and my heart was racing. When we finally pulled away, our breaths were heavy. “Are you hungry now?”

“Starving.”