The Mass, page 13
“Ah, screw it. I’m having way more fun without one.” She grabs my shirt and pulls me in for a kiss.
A woman with three small children gasps and tells us to knock it off, but we tune her out. Nothing will spoil this day.
****
Around three o’clock, we’re so exhausted from The Forest, we return to the hotel to take a nap. It’s after six when we wake, both sober, hungry, and ready for more fun. We drink what’s left of the Jack, about two shots for Maya and one for me.
“Damn, we’re out,” Maya says, sulking at the bottle. “I’ll call DeVario to get us. There has to be a liquor store somewhere.”
“He’s okay with providing alcohol to us? Won’t he get in trouble with his company?”
“DeVario has me in the system under my fake license, so he thinks I’m twenty-two. And he knows I tip well, so he’s fast to respond.”
“Nice.”
“Do you want him to take us anywhere else?”
“I thought we were going back to the park?”
“I know. But we could go for a ride first. Just you and me.”
“How about we go out to dinner?”
“Ooh ... like a date?” She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“I mean like whatever. No labels.”
“In that case, let me put on my little black dress.”
She’s only hung up three things out of thirty, one of which is a slinky black dress. It falls past her knees, hiding her scar, but shows off her long white back. While I eat chips to manage my hunger, she twists her hair into a messy bun and shoves a bunch of pins in to keep it from falling loose. Then she puts on a gigantic ruby necklace.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Part of my inheritance. I haven’t worn it yet. What do you think?”
“It’s, uh, huge.”
She hits my shoulder playfully. “What are you wearing? Shorts and a tee again?”
“I didn’t bring much.”
“No, you didn’t. So we need to go shopping first.”
“But I’m starving.” I crumble the empty bag of chips.
“Then it looks like we’ll have to get you another bagel before we go.”
Maya
After a stop at the liquor store, DeVario takes us to the nearest strip mall. I Google the best place for men’s clothing which leads us to a store called Martin’s Way.
Daniel immediately backs away, convinced I’ll dress him in layers. “I don’t want to sweat.”
“You can still wear shorts.” I drag him into the store by the elbow. “You just need to wear something a little more…” I grab a pair of black textured shorts off the first rack I see. “These. And…” I grab a black and white striped dress shirt. “Put this on and roll up the sleeves.”
“I’m gonna sweat.”
“You’ll sweat regardless.”
“Why this?”
“So we look sexy together! You can take it off later.”
“All right.” With a reluctant grin, he takes the clothes into the dressing room. While he changes, I gather socks, a pair of solid black sneakers, and two pairs of sunglasses (one for me). As though overcome by sudden confidence, he walks out like he owns the place, puckering his lips and nodding his head at all the mannequins.
“Here,” I say, handing him the accessories. “Just add this and you’ll be complete.”
Daniel laughs. “New socks too?”
“Socks are important.”
“Like the one still stuck between the washer and dryer?”
I roll my eyes. “Yep, still stuck.”
He sits down to finish dressing. I notice a few girls checking us out from across the store. One has straight blonde hair, reminding me of Nicole. I’m tempted to talk to her, but when Daniel stands, and she immediately blushes and whispers something to her friend, I get that she’s only interested in Daniel. Not me.
For some reason, that doesn’t disappoint me as much as it makes me jealous. Is he better looking than me? Sexier? Through one of the mirrors, I notice the youth still in his face, the definition of his muscles, and his overall well-being. He’ll probably look good for the rest of his life, reaching the ultimate level of sexiness around thirty. I wonder what I’ll look like at that age. Will I even be alive?
While I usually laugh off such an idea, it radiates a strange sadness. Luckily, Daniel throws me a quick smile, and the negative thoughts depart.
After we pay and leave, I light up a cigarette, my first in two days.
Daniel immediately steps away. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he says, disgusted.
“Once in a while.”
“Why the sudden urge right now?”
“Just had a craving.” And I don’t want any more bad thoughts to creep in.
“Can I substitute that for something else?” Without waiting for me to answer, he takes the cigarette from my hands and presses his lips against mine.
My knees go weak, and the urge to be with him takes over. I wrap my arms around his waist and push our hips together. Screw this so-called date. I want him now.
But I’ll settle for the limo.
We sprint to the parking lot.
DeVario meets us out front, not questioning our short stay.
Once inside, Daniel turns the music up; I unzip his new shorts.
“Really? In here?” he asks with his hands in my hair, destroying the bun I made.
“Why not?”
“We’ll be back to the hotel in like fifteen minutes.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
He takes my hands and puts them around his neck. “Yes, you can. Let’s just take it nice and slow this time.”
Nice and slow is not my tempo. Nice and slow reminds me of Nicole. Even memories of Connor slip in. That boy loved to kiss my face and only my face.
“I promise you it’ll be worth it,” he says.
In that case, sure, why not?
So for the next fifteen freaking minutes, Daniel kisses me. He starts with my neck and face, then my shoulders, arms, and every finger. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone for so long without some article of clothing coming off.
“You’re killing me, Daniel,” I say. The anticipation is murderous.
The limo finally stops, so I know we’re back at the hotel. I adjust my dress. Daniel grabs the two bags of liquor, and we leave as casually as possible. As soon as we’re back in the lobby, I pick up the pace, determined to get upstairs, while Daniel takes his good, sweet time, holding my hand and kissing my shoulders.
“You better be enjoying this,” I say.
“Oh, I am.”
Three other people enter the elevator with us, so forget anything naughty. But Daniel surprises me. He sneaks his hand down the back of my dress and beneath my underwear. I nearly collapse from the pressure. I’m shocked by his bold move but worried I might not be able to keep my mouth shut for much longer. Thankfully, the elevator dings, and the people in front of us get out.
I release a much-needed gasp. Then his lips come down on mine, and we don’t separate until we reach our room.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I say, kicking off my shoes.
He shuts the door behind us and drops our bags on the table. “I told you it would be worth it.”
I run my teeth across my bottom lip, nervous about what might come next.
Daniel wastes no time now that we’re alone. He takes off my dress and slides my underwear down to my ankles. Then his face disappears.
I’m shivering.
But I’m in heaven.
I close my eyes and run my hands through his hair. He’s not only talented with his fingers but his mouth as well. So much I might not be able to hold out for much longer, and I actually want this to last. I don’t want it to be quick. I want build-up. I want everything and more.
But then his lips go somewhere forbidden.
I jerk away from him.
“What is it?” he asks.
Both hands cover my scar, the only place on my body that makes me feel weak and exposed. “Don’t kiss me there. You can go anywhere else, just not there.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No. I just don’t want you to kiss me there.”
“Okay,” he says, coming toward me again. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”
“No, don’t stop. Keep going.”
I let it slide because, God damn, he knows how to go down on a girl better than a girl does. His tempo choice and his way of leading might be superior to mine. All because of the anticipation. The not-knowing part. Since Connor, I’ve always been in charge of sex. I’m the dominating one. The one who decides the tempo and the direction. Probably because I’ve never been able to trust someone to do it better.
Or maybe because I don’t trust people in general.
And that’s when I let go. I give up control and allow myself to come. So hard I nearly fall into the coffee table.
Daniel cushions my landing with his hands and guides me to the couch instead. My lips find his almost instantly. And the song plays on.
Seconds later, we’re in the bedroom, both naked. Daniel has a condom on, but this time he’s on top. And while typically I would fight like hell to reverse positions, I don’t care anymore. When we connect, my head arches back, and I gasp at the ceiling. Daniel has me pinned, and I savor the suffocation. The consumption. But the thoughts in my head spiral out of control as the pleasure below reaches a new high. I beg for the strange flashbacks of my mother’s dead body to go away and for Connor’s scream to vanquish. I want to push out all the darkness and return to the light. Let the past be buried, and let my present be everything.
It gives me immense satisfaction when Daniel collapses next to me, panting and shaking, all of him soaked in sweat. We lay like that for several minutes. Once I regain my strength, I roll on top of him and kiss him.
“Are you alive?” I ask.
“Very.”
“Good.”
“Was it good?” he asks.
“Very.”
He stretches his arms over his head and then wraps them around my shoulders. “I didn’t think that was possible,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never ... done it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Just so ... aggressively.”
“For real? If what we did is considered aggressive to you, then you have a lot to learn about sex.”
“I’m sure I do. I just get afraid sometimes. Of hurting people. Of hurting you.”
I roll my eyes, not liking how his confidence has shifted. “Oh, Daniel.” I run my hands through his sweaty black hair, pinching the ends until drips of water wring out. “Don’t get all emotional on me.”
“I’m not emotional,” he says, squeezing my lower back. “I just want you.”
“You have me.”
“I want all of you.”
I scoot away from him. I can sense it coming. He’s getting like Nicole. Too touchy-feely. Too attached. Too emotional. And this is only our second time hooking up. What will he be like the third time? In tears?
“Where are you going?” he asks, sitting up.
“I have to pee.”
A girl should always pee after sex, but I also need a few minutes alone. I need to remember why I’m here and what I want. I didn’t expect Daniel to take so much control so quickly. Maybe he was a little aggressive, leading as he did. That’s never happened before. If things continue as is, will I eventually submit to him emotionally? Can I keep this strictly physical?
I value pleasure more than anything. I have to focus on that, which means more sex and less talk. More fun, less downtime. More alcohol and drugs. I’m pretty sure I was almost sober having sex this last time. And while it felt incredible, is it worth it to be fully coherent or a little buzzed? With alcohol, my brain shuts off—no worries of strange thoughts coming to the table.
The only drug I have to wipe my brain completely is also the most dangerous. But I’m tempted. I open my tampon box and stare at the tiny bottle. Only four pills left. No refills. I probably couldn’t get more even if I tried. For now, I have to be content with what I have.
Daniel seems to have read my mind because when I come out of the bathroom, he’s pouring us each a shot of Jack.
We drink and watch TV. Order room service. Shower and sleep. I’m glad the day is ending non-dramatically. Let’s see how long we can keep this up.
Is forever an option?
Daniel
I’m in paradise.
In just a week, I’ve had more sex with Maya than I ever had during my near two-year relationship with Anna. More alcohol than at high school parties. More laughs. More thrills. More of everything. The rapture rises every day.
From start to finish, our days are packed with pleasure. If we’re not in our room having sex, we’re at the park, forest, or lagoon. By now, we’ve been on every ride, seen almost every show, and taken pictures with over a hundred elves. Things that bothered me before don’t matter, especially the heat. I sweat until my clothes are drenched, and I eat and drink to my heart’s content. I feel healthier and active, and I am constantly having fun.
Amidst all the entertainment, I’ve convinced Maya not to smoke cigarettes this week and to include more than chips and alcohol into her daily intake of calories. She’s opened up to sandwiches and French fries.
Maya has persuaded me to do some pretty extreme things as well. Saturday, I agree to go shirtless and drench myself in “fairy dust” for the ultimate nightclub experience. She does the same but covers her nipples with starfish pads. Dancing straight in the center of the club, the lights fall on us, and the fairies hanging from above try to pull us off the ground. Then a fight breaks out between two elf lords, and the whole club is cleared out, except for Maya and I, lounging in the trees with the fairy world. One of them offers me a strange pill with a smile on it. Maya whacks the fairy’s hand away. “No one cranks my man except for me.” We leave right away, Maya somewhat livid. The pill was Ecstasy.
As I hold her hand in the elevator, I have the biggest smile.
“What are you so happy for?” she asks.
“I had a good time tonight,” I say. “You’d never see me shirtless and covered in fairy goo back in Morville.”
“I think you sweat most of it off,” she says, wiping a finger across my glistening chest.
Little does she know, I’m smiling because she called me her man.
Behind those brown eyes, there’s a part of her that cares. Or wants to care. Maybe in time, she’ll let go.
****
One afternoon, while taking a break from everything, Maya takes a phone call out on the balcony. Her phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last couple of days, so whoever’s calling now must be important.
While Maya has her conversation, I check through my phone, noting all the missed calls and texts from Gracie.
Gracie: Hope you’re having success on your journey. How’s it going? Have you found God?
Before I left, I made it clear that I wouldn’t answer any calls or texts, nor be on social media anytime soon. My dad hasn’t even tried to reach out, but he respects my wishes. He’ll only contact me if there’s an emergency.
For a few seconds, I think about the Morville Massacre and how everyone is doing back home. But then the balcony door opens, startling me, and Maya comes in, her cheeks somewhat flushed and not from the sun.
“What is it?” I ask. “Is everything okay?”
“Nothing. Just the realtor.”
“Realtor?”
“My parents’ house is finally getting sold.”
“Oh.”
“It could’ve been sold before I turned eighteen, but my grandmother didn’t want to deal with all the paperwork. She’s not too keen I sell it now. But it’s more money in the bank for me.”
“It doesn’t have any sentimental value to you?”
“No.” She huffs and tosses her phone on top of the bed. “Why would it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know much about your parents.”
“It’s best you don’t know anything.” She peels off her tank top. In one week, she’s gotten maybe a shade tanner with patches of sunburn around her shoulders. “What?” she asks when she notices me staring.
“Nothing. You’re just beautiful.”
“Aw.” She pecks my lips and then slips into the bathroom for a shower. I follow her, removing my clothes. “What are you doing?” she asks suspiciously.
“Showering with you.”
“I prefer to shower alone.”
“I’ll make it worth it.”
“Fine.” She seems annoyed but allows me in. She turns the water on and immediately starts washing her upper body while I take care of her legs. I don’t realize where I’m touching when she practically knees me.
“Stop!” she yells, backing into the corner of the stall.
“I’m sorry. I forgot. I won’t wash you there.”
“Just get out. Please.”
I can’t tell if she’s going to cry, if she’s even capable of crying, or if she’s on the verge of screaming at me. But she needs her space, so I get out, grab a towel, and retreat to the bedroom. Now I can’t put the past out of my head. I need to know what happened to Maya. Why won’t she talk about her parents? Anthony and Marilyn Floros. They died trying to protect her. Why does she seem to hate them so much?
Through Google, I discover that Anthony was the CEO of a pharmaceutical company, and Marilyn was the principal of an elite private school. Both were highly well-educated, career-driven people. And their daughter, Maya, was a gold medalist gymnast, ranking first in West Virginia and 14th overall in the country. That means she could have tried out for the Olympian team. I find tons of pictures of Maya competing and also of her on the podiums. Maya is stunning in every photo. She’s happy and healthy. But there is not a single picture of Maya with her parents at any of the events. That must explain some of the resentment. My dad always kept his work schedule open for Friday night football. Only emergencies kept him from attending.
