“I’ll make it easy then, okay?” he asks, and I nod. “I want to get to know you, but I also want to fuck you. So here is my offer… you hang out and wait for the storm to pass and your clothes to dry. We watch TV and you give me control,”
“Give you control?” I ask.
“Mhmm. Basically, you have a safe word, and you use it, if you want me to stop,” he says. “You have to be able to trust that I won’t hurt you.”
“I’ve seen you four times a week for a year. I feel like if you were going to hurt me you probably would’ve already done it,” I say.
“So?” he asks.
“So… I trust you, so I agree. “Safe word can be the red-light system.”
“Okay,” he smiles.
“Is that why you keep requesting me?” I ask.
“Partly,” he says. “I am fascinated by you. I have not met anyone who was not afraid of me. Although, I am sensing that you have no idea who I am even though you live your entire life working.”
“I am not scared of you, and I guess I don’t know who you are because I don’t even know what you do to afford living in this house,” I say. “But I’m sensing the pizza place is not the only place that you own.”
“It’s not. I own a handful of things,” he says, resting his hand on my lower back.
“Have you heard of the Roaring Angels Coalition?” he asks.
“In passing, yeah. It’s a biker gang or something. Why?” I ask.
“I’m the president of that motorcycle club,” he says carefully.
“So, is this like a drug money mansion?” I ask and he laughs.
“No,” he says. “I won’t say we don’t distribute things we shouldn’t, but drugs are not one of them.”
“I smoke,” I say.
“Cigarettes or drugs?” he asks.
“Cigarettes. Sorry,” I laugh.
“Well, you’re in luck, because I do too,” he says. “Is that your way of saying you need nicotine?”
“I think so,” I laugh. “They’re in the car though and it’s still pouring.
“I can share,” he says as he stands, he holds his hand out for me to take. When I do, he pulls me up and lifts me off of the couch to set me on the floor.
“You don’t sell people, do you?” I ask.
“No,” he chuckles and leads me into the kitchen. He opens the sliding glass door that leads to the patio and grabs a pack of cigarettes off the table. It’s covered where we are so we can see how hard it’s raining without getting wet.
He offers me a cigarette before lighting it for me then does the same for himself. I take a long drag and sigh as the nicotine soothes my nerves. “Better?” he laughs.
“Yeah,” I smile. “Thank you.”
“Tell me about yourself, Riley,” he says as he picks me up and sits me on the table.
“Sounds like you’ve already looked me up,” I say.
“I know what’s on paper, but that’s it,” he says.
“Well… I’m an only child and my parents died of an overdose when I was ten. I went to twenty-five different foster homes in ten years, but I’m guessing already you knew that,” I say, and he nods. “I work damn near one hundred hours a week just to get by. I have no friends because of this because all I know is the people I work with. The last relationship I was in, I got slapped down a flight of stairs… twice, actually. I guess I didn’t hit my head hard enough the first time. I also have a very dark sense of humor so, be prepared for my morbid thoughts. They leak out sometimes.”