The Other C-Word (26 page)

My smile disappeared and I rushed out, closing his office door behind me. I sat at my desk, overwhelmed by all the emotions pouring into me. Did he have any idea what he’d just said to me? How it resonated so deeply? The whole reason I didn’t want to spend the night with him was because I never wanted him to see the crazy person I became when I dreamed. The person who was violent and lacked control.
 

I heard Rick’s footsteps as he approached me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, bending down so we were at eye level. “I’m sorry, Marley. It was just my lame attempt at humour. I don’t know what I said, but I have a feeling I scared you more than you scared me.”

I didn’t know how to respond so I yanked on his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. It wasn’t the smartest idea since we were at work, and he appeared to be struggling with his willpower too. He kissed me back, grasping my waist. The next thing I knew I was off the ground. I instinctively placed my arms around his shoulders and wrapped my legs over his waist while he carried me into his office. He locked the door behind us and shut the blinds.

“Can’t have any Peeping Toms,” he said jokingly.

This was dangerous territory, but the way his tongue was moving inside my mouth, I couldn’t remember why.

Rick scanned his office, searching for a place to take me. It was all very humorous, because his desk was scattered with copy material. Even in his spontaneity, Rick was too studious to be the kind of guy to swipe the papers off his desk. He looked down at the dark, brown carpeting and back up at me. I shook my head in response. I’m no germaphobe, but I had no idea when that carpet had last been cleaned, and the thought of lying on it was somewhat disgusting, especially because I knew the original colour was closer to beige than brown.

“Care to assist me with a problem I’m having, Miss Mason?”

“Of course, what can I do for you, Mr Richard Randy?”

“Well, I really want to fuck you right this second. The question is where?”

“Umm…well, anywhere but my arse, please,” I replied jokingly, feigning a British accent. It sounded more like Professor McGonagall than Bridget Jones.

Rick cocked his eyebrows. “You know that’s not what I meant, right?”

“Yes, but I see the way you look at my arse and feel you need to be reminded.”

“Well, Miss Mason, you do have a breathtaking backside, and I am but a mere man.”

“No worries, I myself am a lowly assistant, trying to turn you on with my sexy voice.” I batted my eyelashes ridiculously for effect.

“Is that supposed to be British or Irish? I can’t tell.”

I sighed. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

I didn’t even comprehend his movements because they were so swift. I found myself pinned against the wall. The same wall that we’d shared our first kiss, coincidentally. Rick pushed my skirt up, unzipped his pants and pulled my panties to the side. “This is your fault. You know what you do to me when you wear a garter belt.”

“Why do you think I wore one?” After that, I had trouble articulating clearly because he was thrusting into me. He nibbled at my neck and bit my earlobe. The steady thrusts gave way to a fierce pounding. I felt every motion as I clung to his neck and tightened my legs around him.

“I love being inside you. I crave it. I crave you all the time, Marley Mason,” he said in a coarse whisper against my neck.

I screamed out, causing him to cup his hand to my mouth.

“Shhh, baby, don’t forget where we are, okay?”

I did forget—he made me forget everything. I felt my climax as he continued to pulse into me. It was deeper this way, stronger because our fortitude and strength had diminished. We wanted each other too much for our own good. Rick made his final thrust and leaned his head against the wall. His breath heated my neck.
 

“You’re going to break me, baby.”

I would have thought it was a joke, but he’d said it seriously with a tinge of sadness. I kissed the top of his head, not sure how to reply. He removed himself and set me down gently.

“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Mason,” Rick said in his normal voice, kissing my hand. The moment was over, but he revealed something to me then. Something he wanted to keep to himself. This was going to be painful when it was over for both of us. I didn’t quite feel that pain yet, but it was buried deep inside me, readying to come out.

Chapter Thirteen

It was Friday, the best day of the week, but I had to admit I was a little dejected because I couldn’t spend the evening with Rick. The sadness turned into indignation when he called me into his office for ‘dictation’. I walked into his office, approaching his desk wearily. “Rick, seriously? We can’t let it happen again. We have to keep this professional.”

He smiled cynically. “Where’s your notepad?”

“What do you mean?”

“How can you take dictation without a notepad? Oh, were you thinking something else, you naughty girl?”

I stood over to his desk, hands on my hips. “Very funny. I think I need to throw something at you.”

He took my arm and pulled me down into his lap. “Sorry, baby, I honestly do have a few memos for you to type up.”

“If that’s the case, then why am I in your lap?” I asked, not stopping him when he kissed me.

“I couldn’t help myself. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re pretending to be angry.”

“I wasn’t pretending, mister! Seriously, people are starting to talk about us,” I stammered, between his kisses.

“Who’s talking, Marley? Give me their names and I’ll fire them.” Rick laughed, with that wicked, boyish smile. I shook my head and tried to get up, but his grip was too tight. He kissed my neck and it melted any willpower I might have had. “Did you get my present?”

“Yes, I received your presents, plural. I’m wearing one of them. Thank you very much, but did you buy out the whole Victoria’s Secret catalogue?”

He laughed. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I got some of everything. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I reminded you repeatedly that I owed you some panties. Since you kept procrastinating about picking them out, I had to take it upon myself. I didn’t know what you’d want, I just picked everything that I liked. Who knew there was such variety?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to explain to your mom why you’re receiving a truckload of lingerie.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t think about that one. I was too busy thinking about how I was going to rip it all off you.”

I pulled away from him, trying to keep my composure. “What’s wrong?” he asked me.

“I forgot to tell you, I have plans tonight.”

“I know, so do I. Why do you think I was trying to cop a feel?”

I gave him a confused look. “What plans do you have?”

“I can’t have plans? Are you jealous?” he asked, moving in for another kiss. I put my arm against his chest to stop him.

“I guess it would depend on who you have plans with and what you plan to do.”

“Baby, I’m doing the same thing you are. I know you have your sister’s bachelorette party tonight, and I’m going to Adam’s bachelor party.”

In a way, I was surprised. I knew Rick and Adam had become friends, but I didn’t realise they were on that level.

“Does that make you feel better?”

“Not especially. Are you going to a strip club?” I had no idea what Adam was doing, but I didn’t like the idea of Rick ogling other woman.

Rick laughed right in the face of my insecurity. “I think so, but don’t worry, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“Eww, don’t think of me when you’re watching some girl disrobe and gyrate in fake tassels…that disgusts me.”

“Do you want me to think of her?”

“Point taken…think of me.”

“It will be easy to think about you because I think about you all the time.” He pulled me in for a longer kiss, expertly sneaking his tongue into my mouth. When we separated, I was a little breathless. His kisses still did that to me. The man was a great kisser.

“Are you going to a strip club?” Rick asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No, Stevie wasn’t interested in that. We’re going to a dance club and getting our groove on.”

Rick sighed, pressing his lips into my neck. “I wish you were going to a strip club instead.”

I pushed away from him, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “Why?”

“Strip clubs have rules about touching.”

“You think I’m going to touch somebody, Rick?”

“No, that’s not my concern. I don’t want anyone touching you. It’s a big problem, because you’re so damn adorable and places like that are creep magnets.”

I giggled. “You’re kind of a possessive caveman type, aren’t you?”

“Hmm…that’s a good C-word to describe me, at least when it comes to you. Promise me you won’t dance with another guy, okay?”

My eyes widened. “Why?”

His voice was low and spoken at a slower pace as if he wanted to make sure his meaning was clear. “I wouldn’t like it. Dancing in one of those places is very sexual. I don’t like the idea of anyone else’s hands on you. You are mine, and that means no one else gets to grind against you, grab your ass or anything else. Do you promise, Marley?”

This type of speech would have caused me to go on red alert in the past. It would have caused my stalker senses to go off and have me running for the hills, but with Rick, I didn’t feel that. I didn’t feel it because I would have uttered the same words to him.

“I won’t dance with any boys except Dillon, if you promise not to stuff dollar bills into anyone’s G-string.”

“Dollar bills? You think I’m that cheap? Baby, someone’s got to help these poor girls go to college.”

I grabbed a handful of his Polo shirt and pulled him towards me. “Write a check to a local college fund for poor wayward strippers then. If you stuff, I’ll dance.”

“Okay, I promise no stuffing, no gawking and no imagining. I’ll only be thinking about you. The next time I’m inside you. The next time I get to rip off your panties. The next time we take a shower together. The next time I hold you against a wall.” He made each statement with slow, whispered precision.

“Stop it! I’m going to need to change my panties if you keep going.”

He laughed as I stood. “Why do you think I bought you so many?”

Chapter Fourteen

I gaped in awe at the sparkly, pink top Stevie expected me to wear. Damn if she hadn’t bought one in a different colour for all of us.

“Are you crazy? You’ve assigned us clothes to wear?”

She nodded. “This is a huge club, and it will be easier to find each other if we separate. Besides, I picked out a top that will look good on everyone. It’s my gift to all my girls.” I didn’t want to, but I had to admit, Stevie had good taste. Each top was slightly different. Mine was form fitting and one shouldered. Billie’s was a silver, V-neck and looser. My mom’s was a blue tank top style, but a more conservative in cut. They were however, all made from the same glittery material. Regardless of how great they looked, I knew we would resemble a gay pride float when we walked into the dance club together.

“Do you think we’re the fucking Partridge family or something?”

Stevie laughed. “My party, my rules. This is the one day where I get to tell everyone what to do and I love telling people how to dress, especially you.”

I groaned. “Isn’t your wedding day, next week, supposed to be that day?”

“Yeah, but I kind of have to share that with Adam.”

“Get off it, he’s totally whipped. You know you rule all the decisions on that day too.”

 
Stevie giggled. “Yeah, well he’s a smart guy. I told him if he’d let me pick out all the details for our wedding day, he could pick out all the positions for our honeymoon.”

Stevie never failed to gross me out. “Thank you for making me throw up before I drink.”

The Cassbar was a converted warehouse turned dance club. It boasted several levels, strobe lights, numerous bars and even cages where go-go dancers were on display. It looked like a relic of the seventies, which was probably why my mother had agreed to come. I sat with Stevie at one of the bars. Stevie looked so happy. I loved that she was taking this huge step in her life. I loved Adam too, but I’d been telling him for years that I’d cut off his balls if he ever hurt her. I’d threatened him with more than a butter knife too.

My mom, Billie and all of Stevie’s girlfriends were on the far side of the club, but I wanted a private moment with her. “I want your top,” I said, eyeing her white sparkly strapless top.

“Only the bride gets to wear white, Marley,” she retorted, sipping her Long Island Iced tea and adjusting the tiara that spelled out ‘BRIDE’ in fake diamonds.

Just then, Dillon approached us. It was funny because Dillon was invited to both Adam’s and Stevie’s parties, but his decision on which invitation to accept had been simple. He wanted nothing to do with what those boys were up to tonight. “Hello, dolls,” he said, spinning around for us. He was wearing a hot pink button-down shirt with silver threading and skinny black jeans.

“Dillon, Stevie didn’t get you a top?”

He laughed, pulling up his shirt, revealing a sparkly orange belt underneath it. “No, she got me something to hold up my bottoms instead.”

“I think you clash, Dills,” I yelled into his ear so he could hear me over the music.

He stepped back, faking an offended look. “Kid, orange and pink are the new black and white. Get with the times.” He took a sip of my drink and bowed to us before saying, “Later, bitches.” Okay, I knew Dillon was drunk already because he never referred to us as bitches unless he’d had a few cocktails.

I turned back to Stevie, shaking my head. “He’s crazy, but you have to love him.”

“Yep, he’s your bestie, but he belongs to all of us now.” It was true. Dillon was family.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” I exclaimed, clasping her hand.

“I can’t believe you’re in a relationship. Maybe you’ll wear white sooner than you think?”

My smiled disappeared. “Stevie, I told you Rick’s leaving.”

“Hmm…and I recall telling you that things like video chat, email, snail mail, phones, text, busses, planes and trains actually exist. You don’t have to end it just because he leaves. If you think the long-distance thing will be too hard than you should have that conversation with him. I can tell he’s really into you, Mar.”

“You know I can’t do that. Our relationship would never be normal. There’re so many logistics and complications.”

“That’s only because you make it complicated.” Stevie punctuated her words with her famous eye roll. I swear she was going to go blind from that one day.

I downed my
Long Island
. “Stop. We deal with my crazy all the time. Tonight is your night. Let’s just celebrate you and dance like we did when we were little.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the dance floor. We made our way in the direction of our group, which was on the far side of the club, when a certain song came on that stopped both of us in our tracks.

It wasn’t an inspiring song and maybe wasn’t even appropriate, but I thought it was one of the most danceable, especially for a girl. Stevie loved it too. I had no idea how My Darkest Days made
Porn Star Dancing
sound incredibly awesome, but it totally brought out the hidden porn star in all us girls. Stevie and I stared at each other, knowing what we had to do. Yep, we performed our best—somewhat slutty—dance moves. Sometimes a girl just has to be naughty.

The club was crowded and we only had a small patch of space to ourselves, which was why it shocked me when a huge guy managed to wedge himself between us. He had to be at least seven foot, and he was as large as he was tall. He was bald and covered with tattoos and piercings. I imagined if Mr Clean had a crazy nephew, this dude would be it.

He grabbed Stevie’s hips and grinded into her pelvis.
What the hell!
That man was being inappropriate with my sister, and she was betrothed to one of my best friends. I had no idea why the word betrothed came to mind, but that was my first thought. My second thought was to save her by jumping on his back. I chalked up this bit of wisdom to my friend, Mr Long Island. In actuality, this was an extremely stupid idea because me jumping on this giant’s back was the equivalent of Van Morrison jumping on my back minus the claws. He managed to shake me off easily, and I fell on my ass. I had no idea how the people got out of my way so fast, but I lay on the ground, flat on my butt staring up at the bald tattooed Goliath in front of me. He smiled, or rather sneered, at me, and held out his hand. He was bent over and at first, I thought he was trying to help me up. In my defence, I’d just fallen, it was loud, it was crowded, and Mr Long Island had hijacked my brain. It was in this mentally challenged state that I accepted his hand. Instead of helping me up though, he touched my boob and squeezed it…hard.

That was it, my alter ego, ‘Tuff Gong’—one of Bob Marley’s nicknames too—emerged and took charge. The douchebag was standing over me, slightly bent at the knees. His ankles were next to my splayed legs. I used the best weapon in my arsenal that would yield the most pain at this angle, the six-inch, sharp, stilettos on my feet. I drove a heel into each of his ankles, propelling them deeper by bucking my hips. In retrospect, another very stupid idea because when a huge guy was peering over you, and you basically knocked his legs out from underneath him, there was only one place for him to go—he fell right on top of me. Luckily, he held his arms out, which prevented him from totally crushing me. I had to look like a sparkly flaying fish, flopping underneath his weight. I tried to breathe, but he was heavy, and the smell of his sweat intermingled with twenty kinds of alcohol he must have consumed did not help.

I heard Stevie scream like she was the one in pain. I felt dizzy and tired, but then I was suddenly able to take a deep breath when he was miraculously lifted off me. I stood immediately, to avoid being further trampled. I was completely disoriented and confused, but I saw Adam holding one of Mr Clean’s nephew’s arms and Rick holding the other. I didn’t question what they were doing here or if this was even real. In that moment, I thought they were holding him back for me, as two dear friends would, so I could get my revenge. I did the only thing a girl like me could do. I punched Mr Clean’s nephew square in the nose. My fist hurt, my head hurt, but I smiled when I saw the small trickle of blood flow down his nose.

He stared at me, blinking rapidly, trying to comprehend what had happened. Then he managed to glare at me, and when he spoke, his voice boomed over the loud music and frenzied dancing, “You fucking cunt!”

Uh oh, he said the other C-word! The naughty one you never call a lady
. I didn’t know if it was the energy, the special tea from Long Island or the intensity in the club, but it seemed like things started happening in slow motion. I didn’t see Rick or Adam. I just saw their fists as they crashed into the guy’s checks, one on each side. I’d never seen a guy punched in the jaw simultaneously from both sides of his face. They both had to do uppercuts, because the dude was crazy tall. His whole face reverberated from the impact, as if he was in a zero gravity zone. The trickle of blood I’d caused became a gush and flowed down rapidly, covering his mouth and lip ring. It looked like lava, flowing over the black rose tattoo on his neck—making it a bloody rose—and down his white shirt. The image would remain etched into my mind forever, regardless of my foggy state.

We were the good guys, teaching this very bad guy a valuable lesson. You can’t grind against girls at a dance club, you can’t cop a feel with a random stranger and you certainly can’t call a lady the C-word and hope to get away with it. I know it’s not a typical girly thought, but I believe something bonds you when you beat up a bully as a group. In that moment, something bonded Rick, Adam and I. Even Stevie was part of it with her frantic screaming and cursing. I’m sure the opposite is true and if we were bad guys we’d bond too, much like the mafia or street gangs are bound together, but in this instance, even though it was an unfair fight, we were the good guys.

Twenty minutes later, the good guys were walking towards the parking lot, a little less triumphant. I was happy to be outside and my head felt better. Rick’s strong arms around me helped. Adam and Stevie walked in front of us.

“I can’t believe they kicked us out,” Stevie complained. The rest of our party was inside, most likely oblivious to the fact that we were not. The higher the cover charge, the more bouncers there were, and Club Cassbar had the highest cover charge in
Chicago
. They escorted us out very quickly and efficiently, without causing a scene.

“I don’t even understand why you guys are here,” Stevie said, glaring at Adam. I knew she wasn’t really mad, she was just freaked out, and that was how Stevie acted when she was upset. She manifested all her fears into pissed off, venom, bitch mode.

“Babe, we weren’t having any fun at the strip club. We wanted to come and hang out with you girls. I talked all my boys into coming here. I mean, those girls didn’t hold a candle to you.”

Stevie instantly smiled. Wow, Adam definitely knew the right stuff to say. We approached the limos. Adam’s Hummer limo was right next to our more classic limo. I didn’t know why boys always had to go bigger. From Stevie’s descriptions, Adam didn’t need to compensate for anything. A fact I wish I didn’t know.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night, baby,” Adam said, kissing my sister so tenderly it made my heart swoon.

“You didn’t ruin it, I did. I punched the guy first,” I said, absorbing some of Stevie’s frustration.

“You didn’t ruin it, Marley, that asshole did. Nice right-hook, by the way,” Rick said, taking my hand and kissing each of my knuckles.

“Yeah, Rick’s right. He totally did. Are you okay, Marley?” Stevie asked me.

“Hell yeah, Mr Clean’s nephew isn’t going to get one over on me,” I replied. They all stared at me in complete confusion. “Oh, that’s what I nicknamed him.”

They all gaped at each other until the visual dawned on them, and they started nodding in agreement. “I can totally see it,” Adam concurred. “What did he do anyway?”

“What do you mean? You didn’t see?” Stevie asked, inspecting Adam’s hand.

“All we saw was him falling on Marley. We thought he was just drunk and fell, but after Marley punched him, I figured there might be more to the story.”

Stevie cleared her throat and I wanted to scream at her not to tell them because this would only end badly, but Stevie didn’t hear my silent plea. When we were little girls, we’d spent a whole afternoon, intensely staring at each other, trying to form telepathic messages. It was a complete waste of a Saturday afternoon because she’d been oblivious to every mental command I had ever given her. “He grinded against me and Marley was trying to protect me. I think he squeezed Marley’s boob too. Did he, Marley?”