Hooked (6 page)

I just blinked up at him, still hearing all of the
people around us. “What I would do to be her right now,” said a woman a few
rows back, eyeing Drew and I tightly. I smiled, leaning my head against Drew’s
shoulder. I daydreamed for the remainder of the game, watching as the ball flew
through the air—and feeling as high as that ball. I felt butterflies brimming
in my stomach; I felt the lurch of nerves every time Drew spoke to me, asking
me if I wanted another dog, another beer. Always I spoke to him in a low, husky
voice. There was an intimacy forming between us; I felt it so starkly, then.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After the game, we walked through the dense crowd
toward the street. All horns were honking; the people were swarming. The
Cubbies had won. I was caught up in the excitement; I felt like my heart was in
my throat. I clung to Drew’s hand as we skirted across the street, watching
people making out in the streets, watching a
drunk
person fall off a curb. I watched as people saluted each other. We were all on
the same team in that moment. We were all together.

A few blocks away from Wrigleyville, everything
started to calm down a little bit. I turned toward Drew, looking up at his
shadowed face—so high up there, six foot four. “That was incredible,” I
murmured to him. I rubbed my hand across his chest.

He nodded, then, turning toward me. He showed his
teeth, illuminating such light toward me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I loved
sharing it with you.”

I nodded, pulling my blonde hair around my ear. I
didn’t know what to say. I felt so unlike myself—so much like a rich
girlfriend, a successful person. I wondered if this
was
the sort of life I would have had if I would have been successful as a dancer.

“Hey. Do you want to walk around a bit more? I know
we’re close to your place, but.” Drew paused. He looked around at the streets,
the people. “God, I love this city. And I love walking around with you.” He
turned toward me, touching the spot directly behind my ear. “I want to talk a
little bit more, with the backdrop of the city behind us.”

I nodded, feeling his hand reach around my back.

“So.
What about your life,” Drew began, clearing his throat a little bit. “I mean.
Have you had very serious relationships in the past? Or you just sleep around?”
He grinned at me for a moment, flashing his teeth. “I don’t mean to be so
forward.”

My eyes were wide with surprise, but I decided to go
with it. What did I have to lose? I really liked this guy; he was the most
attractive man I’d seen in a long time. And his hand was around my back; his
kiss had been for me alone. “Okay. Okay. I’ll answer you,” I said coyly,
raising my eyebrow. “I have had only one serious boyfriend, actually.
In college.
Kevin.” I rolled my eyes at myself for a moment.
“He was a business major, until he dropped out. He wasn’t—hmm. He wasn’t driven
in the same way that I was.”

“And you were driven for PR, yeah?” Drew asked me. I
had forgotten already that I had lied to him about my career, about my life. I
went with it, though. I wasn’t ready. I nodded my head.
“So.
Just one serious boyfriend?”

“Yeah.
What about yourself? I mean. I hope I’m not being so forward. But fair’s fair.”
I winked at him.

He put up his hands in the air,
like
he was defending himself. But his eyes were full of humor.
“All
right, all right.”
We were walking down unfamiliar streets, jetting
further and further away from my apartment. Where were we going?
“So.
I travel nearly constantly. I grew up here, moved
there—and still never felt like I had a home anywhere, you know?”

I nodded, keeping eye contact with him. I had
slipped my hand into his.
“So.
I haven’t had any
really serious relationships. Not for a while, at least. Of course—
“ Here
, he paused, looking at me with a glimmer of sarcasm
in his eyes. “I do play the field.”

I punched him lightly on the side of his arm. “Oh,
whatever, Drew,” I said, my cheeks growing hot. Why did I feel like I already
knew him,
like
I had known him my whole life?

“Anyway.
It’s just been too hard to hold down a real relationship with someone.
To grow close to someone.”
Drew stopped, then, and pulled me
close to him. I felt my body grow hot as it leaned up to him, closer to him. I
could feel his penis, strong in his pants. I nearly shuddered as his eyes
looked deep into mine, his fingers laced around my left ear. “You are truly
beautiful. You know that?”

I wanted to shake my head, to run away. I felt like
a deer, nearly hunted. He kissed me, then, in the center of the street. And I
knew; in that moment. I knew I was his. That he could do whatever he wanted to
do to me.
That this was my destiny.
At
least for the day.
At least for the night.

He pulled away, suddenly, and brought his arm out to
gesture to the building directly next to him. I looked up at it, noting that it
was a Four Seasons hotel.
A fine one.
A luxurious door
opened before us, bringing a concierge toward us
.
 
“Sir Thompson,” the man said. “You
haven’t any bags today, do you?”

“No, no, John,” Drew said, nodding at him. “Thank
you.”

The concierge bowed his head and backed away, giving
him his space. I looked up at Drew, amazed. He was rich, I knew. But this was
ridiculous. “Do you live here?” I asked him.

He nodded slightly, bobbing his head back and forth.
“Just for now, you know. Until I find something better, something bigger. A
place to—perhaps—settle down.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to go
up?”

I looked up at the windows, all of them glowing in
the soft sunlight of the coming evening. I felt my body quivering, quaking. I
looked at him with large, orb-like eyes, and I nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Follow me,” he ordered, taking my hand once more.
We wound through the doorway, through the illustrious foyer. I had never seen
such a fanciful hotel. Concierges, dressed in their red outfits, scurried
everywhere, bringing drinks or carrying suitcases. The general grandeur of each
of the many guests was so apparent in my eyes. My heart was beating so fast. I
wanted to note everything so I could tell Mel about it the next day. I could
hear my own voice in my head saying, “Imagine, Mel. Me. Who can hardly pay for
anything.
In the Four Seasons.”

We walked into the elevator with such purpose. We
turned, and I eyed some of the women in the lobby who looked at me with such
jealous zeal. I was with the most handsome, most money-laden man in the room. I
held my hands together, self-conscious, as Drew turned to me and positioned his
hands on my ass. “You really are so beautiful,” he said before he
dove
his head into my neck, kissing me with his large,
romantic lips. I leaned my head back, allowing him to dip down to my collar, my
breasts. A large sigh came from my lips.

Finally, we reached the tenth floor. I followed him
down the wide hallway, wondering about all the people in each of the rooms;
each with such money, each probably fucking their wives, their mistresses. Drew
opened the last door on the right—room 371—and allowed me to enter first,
streamlining his arm forward to usher me
in
.

My breath was caught in my throat as I entered. I
looked back at him only for a moment before stepping forward, finding myself
with the greatest view of the city I had ever seen. I walked to the window,
watching as the sun petered out over the clouds, leaving the city lights to
shine. Behind me, I felt a warm shadow. Drew had come up behind me, wrapping
his arms around my thin waist. “Look at it, baby,” he said. “Look at it.”

And I did. I placed my hands on the floor to ceiling
window, watching as the city came to life. I sighed into it, feeling so utterly
complete. My breasts bobbed into the window. I felt so full, so cherished.

Behind me, Drew had pulled away. I heard him on the
telephone, ordering champagne. Was this what rich people did? I couldn’t be
sure. I walked toward the bed. It was a fine king-sized bed with crisp white
sheets and a white comforter. I imagined us fucking on it, and my eyes began to
roam over his tight body, his thick, muscled arms. I licked my lips. He hung up
the phone, turning back toward me and clapping his hands.

“You ordered champagne?” I asked him, bringing
myself back into the moment.

He nodded, walking toward the bed. He wrapped his
arms around me again.

I spoke in a husky, sexy voice. “What are we
celebrating?” I asked him. I swallowed firmly, feeling the rush, the sexuality
forming in me. My pussy was wet; it seemed to beat beneath me. My nipples were
hard in my bra.

He spoke back. His penis was hard against my leg.
Suddenly, I placed my hand over it, kneading it. I sighed as he spoke. “I
bought a building today.
In Wicker Park.
I’ll be
having my bookstore there,” he said, leaning in and beginning to kiss my neck,
my cheek. “I’ll destroy the whole goddamned building. You can watch me knock it
down.”

I grabbed his chest, needing him, pulling him
closer.
“Yeah?
You’ll destroy it?”

“Just like I’m going to destroy you,” he said. He
teased me, licking lightly at the tip of my nose. I laughed, loving the
playfulness of it.

“You’ll destroy it and build a new building?” I
asked him, kissing him again, barely able to concentrate on the details.

He nodded, beginning to unbutton my dress, pulling
off my jacket. Suddenly, one of my buttons popped and flung itself across the
room. He knelt at my breasts and began rubbing them, kissing them. He grabbed
my nipples and began playing with them, forcing my head back. I started
breathing hot, wanting him to touch me. I thought about it; how he would work
in Wicker Park, so close to me. How I could rush to his bookstore and fuck him,
there in the midst of the books, whenever I wanted. I pictured it in my mind in
a flurry of nervous, sexual energy. I let out a loud moan.

“Yeah, baby.
Yeah.”
This
was Drew, below me, unbuttoning still more of my dress, revealing more of my
abdomen. My breasts bounced in his face, and his tongue met them easily.

At the door, there was a knock. So swept up in
Drew’s touch, I leaned back against the bed when he let me go, touching myself,
feeling myself. My eyes were hardly open. Drew opened the door, revealing the
concierge from below, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
I flung my arm across my exposed
breasts.
The concierge looked back at me, seeing my breasts
bouncing and spilling out of my shirt, my hand on my pussy. He nodded at Drew,
his face nearly stricken. “Here you are, Mr. Thompson.”

Drew stuck a $100 bill in the concierge’s pocket and
closed the door. He turned back toward me, his left eyebrow raised. “You better
behave yourself. I can’t afford to just give $100 tips to every concierge every
time they see your boobs.”

I bounced up on my knees, allowing my body to become
supple, tender. “
Well,
I covered myself up.”

“Maybe
he realized we were about to fuck.” I laughed nervously.
Drew
raised his left eyebrow at me, preparing to pop the top from the champagne.
“Cover your ears,” he warned me in a hushed, husky voice. And then; POP. The
top
came
flying off the rim of the champagne bottle,
colliding directly with the lamp on the other side of the bed. The lamp fell
from the bed, erupting into three pieces on the floor. Foam came spewing from
the champagne, falling to the ground. In a rush, I sprung from the comforter
and grabbed the champagne glasses, catching bits of the foam and liquid as it
spewed. Drew placed his mouth over it, laughing as it ran wild. I was so giddy,
so vibrant. I watched as finally he poured the liquid into the champagne glass,
the bubbles wafting toward the top. He poured his own as I stood, expectant, my
breasts nearly out of my dress. I touched my blonde hair, gazing behind him at
the illustrious city below.

“Let me make a toast,” Drew said, directing his gaze
toward me. He cleared his throat. “Okay.
First of all, to
finding my true home, here in Chicago.”

“Here, here,” I called out.

“And to the Cubs’ amazing win
earlier today.”
He kissed his thumb, holding his hand
in a fist.
“Amazing.
To further purchasing my own lot
in Wicker Park, where I’ll be able to finally, finally build a Femme Fatale
bookstore in my favorite city.
And finally—finally.
To you.”
He pushed his glass out and
clinked
it with mine. The sound was so beautiful, sending shivers down my back.

I shivered, taking a sip. The bubbles coursed
through my mouth, putting an immediate smile on my face. I looked up at him,
noting the way his eyes had grown dark, the way he
clinked
his glass down. He began to unbutton his shirt, removing it quickly. His face
was hot, ready. I
clinked
my glass to the side of his,
on the table. I hadn’t had sex in years. So many years of wasted youth, I
thought. I held up my hands, helping him to remove his shirt quickly, to remove
his pants. He stood, finally, in his boxer shorts. His body heaved with uneven
breathing. He grabbed my dress, then, and pulled it straight up over my head,
ripping it a bit in the armpi
t
and
at the breast. I called out, feeling so utterly exposed, so naked in front of
him.