What A Girl Needs

“I’m being selfish,” he says, reaching behind him and pulling open the fridge, “Didn’t even offer you a welcome drink.”

He pulls out a beer and cracks it open easily and holds it out to me. I shouldn’t take it, shouldn’t have that impairment to my judgment. But frankly it’s been a hell of a day and right now a nice cold one sounds like exactly what I might need to get my head right.

I reach out, barely even thinking, and it’s only in the moment before my fingers brush against his that I remember the connection and the dreams that I’d had three times before. And once more it’s incense and it’s memories of a time that hasn’t happened yet and a life I haven’t lived and it swirls up around me in a blink of an eye before I fall into my future.

As I step through the door of the house that I live in with him I know in an instant that he has something planned. And so a smile lights across my face and I close the door a little extra hard to let him know that I’m home, calling out to him.

“Are you home?”

He doesn’t reply, but I hear his movement from deeper in the house and I step in with that smile I’m wearing only growing. I pass the hallway where the pictures have shifted over the years, just as many of me as there are of him and mostly it’s the two of us on vacation in far off places together. I’m smiling in every one of them and I love it, I love all of it so much.

I don’t stay on the ground floor. I make my way up the stairs and take a hard right. The first month I was here I never walked down this hallway because I never had any need to. He was just my older landlord, after all, what purpose did I have in his bedroom?

Not until that one night. That one night when everything changed for us and everything moved so fast and I found myself falling and I stepped through the doorway of his bedroom and stepped out the next morning changed forever.

I step through the door now and I wait for him to step up behind me.

His presence, I sense that first. His height looming above me and his strength hovering on the edge of my vision and then he’s forward and he wraps me up in his arms and his kisses are so tender and so sweet and I melt into him, twisting as we stumble backwards and I am pulling him to the bed as he laughs.

“Oh dear,” he says, “You’ve got ideas today. Don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I pout quick and fun and light, “It is my birthday, after all.”

Lucas manages to wrest himself out of my grasp with a grin and he holds me at arm's length, his clothing only mostly disheveled but still intact. He keeps me there and I play fight with him, but we both know he’s got full command over me.

“Your birthday?” he asks, “Don’t you want your present then?”

His hand flicks out and an envelope is held in it. I cock my head to one side and I grin, giving up the fight and deepening my pout.

“Gimme,” I say in a mockery of my age. I’m in my mid-thirties but Lucas somehow always manages to make me feel like such a little girl.

“Say please,” he says with a grin, but there is an authoritative edge to his voice that makes me melt.

“Please, Sir,” I bite my bottom lip, “Can I have my present?”

Deciding that I’m not going to push his buttons Lucas steps back and pretends to contemplate my request, “I don’t know. Have you been a good girl?”

“So good,” I coo, sashaying my hips as I step up to him, “I’ve been so good and you know it. I’ve been good right up until you ask for me to be bad. But that’s the real question, isn’t it? Which do you want me to be? The good girl, all sweetness and innocent light, or the bad girl?”

Lucas looks like he could practically pick his jaw up the floor and I know the choice he’s going to make.

For teasing him. For tempting him. For giving him what he really wants?

For that, he’s going to make me earn my present tonight.

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