The Pianist
- 4 years ago
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ASMTD Ch. 03 free porn video
June 2
Leo: I had fun yesterday. 9:07AM
Leo: When am I going to see you again? 9:07AM
Rai: Me too 9:09AM
Rai: Idk we’re in Cork for five days 9:09AM
Leo: WHAT? 9:10AM
Rai: Lol yeah forgot to tell u about it. u distracted me 9:10AM
Leo: I could come see you. 9:11AM
Rai: No! That’s too weird. Would make me freak out 9:11AM
Leo: I was thinking so, too. 9:11AM
Leo: I just don’t know if I can wait 5 days. 9:12AM
Rai: Better men have waited longer 9:14AM
Leo: I’m obviously no good. 9:14AM
Rai: I thought you were very good yesterday 9:15AM
Leo: How good? 9:15AM
Rai: If I wasn’t on a bus surrounded by people right now, I’d be touching myself 9:16AM
Leo: Damn. Just let me get on a bus. Please! 9:17AM
Rai: 5 days. isn’t that why God made hands? 9:17AM
Leo: He also made calluses. 9:18AM
Rai: LOL 9:18AM
Leo: In five days I’m going to get you. 9:19AM
Rai: I believe it 9:19AM
June 7
The five days pass faster than I expect and I’m suddenly back in Dublin. I don’t tell him immediatley, worrying that he’ll show up at the bus terminal and carry me off caveman style, but after a shower and a clean pair of panties later. He freaks, but I call him and sooth his petal delicate feelings. He laughs and we decide on drinks in an hour. Plenty of time to start my laundry but not finish it, which leaves me with a very small wardrobe. Pink flowered yoga pants and a burgundy t-shirt I got at a school function is the least horrendous combination.
‘It that what you’re going to wear?’ Em asks from the bed, a charcoal face mask turning her pale white skin gray. It’s supposed to be girl’s night—even Zora has shut down her laptop and taken note of the humans present in the room. Kate and her are wearing the masks, hair pulled back in messy buns, bottles of Smirnoff Ice in their hands.
‘Yeah.’
‘Seriously?’
‘It’s clean.’
‘But it is a date, right?’ Zora chimes in, taking a swig of her drink.
‘I don’t know. We didn’t specify.’
‘Drinks equal dates in my book, just like sleeping in someone’s bed equals cheating,’ Kate tosses in from behind her phone as she searches for the next song to play. I Don’t Fuck With You pours from her tiny speakers and she stands up on her bed and starts to jump around. We join in and scream the lyrics because this is what Kate needs. Ivan is a total dick who ‘slept’ with some sleazy Irish girl when he was supposed to be sick. To say Kate’s pissed is an understatement.
‘Are you leaving or hanging out with us?’ Em pants as the song ends and we all catch our breath.
Zora laughs on her bed and flashes us her cellphone with the video she just took of us. ‘This is so a Snapchat Story.’
‘What do you think I should do?’ I ask, looking down at my outfit again. Since I decided to backpack through Europe after the study abroad trip, I have few outfits and even fewer ‘date night’ ones.
‘How the hell should I know? The only date I went on is with Kenny from the tenth grade. He had a caaaaar,’ she sings the last word.
‘Go!’ Zora shouts, waving her near empty drink at me. I like the girl when she drinks.
‘Men suck, but some have great dicks,’ Kate slurs, chugging her bottle and reaching for another.
‘Nick doesn’t suck and he has a great dick.’
‘I’ve never seen Nick’s dick. Ha! Nick’s dick,’ she stretches the words.
I sneak out as the conversation dissolves into dick sizes and how size does not change the asshole. Twenty minutes later I walk into The Night Witch pub and spot Leo. He’s in a corner booth talking to another redhead. I wonder if he has a fetish. The man spots me and waves me over, the redhead turning to look. In an instant her eyes scan and dismiss me. Little does she know Leo had his fingers in me a few nights ago, so I dismiss her dismissiveness.
Reaching the booth, I lean down and kiss the hell out of Leo before sitting across from him. His smile is patent. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey yourself.’
‘Hard finding the place?’
‘Not at all. But it’s a hole in the wall. How’d you know about it?’
Ms. Redhead gapes at me, finally understanding that Leo was never going home with her. I’d told him during one of our many texting sessions that I was a no go on three ways and anal. He said he’s work with me on anal, but agreed with me on the three way.
‘Hello there. My name’s Mira. Can I get you something to drink?’ The waitress’s words are polite, her expression is not.
‘Gin and tonic. Tanqueray if you have it. An orange slice instead of lime.’
Mira’s eyes widen minutely as she leaves to fill the order.
‘Serious gin drinker, are you?’
‘That and Finlandia.’
‘Woman after my own heart.’
For the first time, I meet his eyes. Leo’s different than I remember. A little older, lines around his eyes and mouth. Or maybe he’s always laughing, even now his lips tilt like he’s holding back a grin. ‘And you’re drinking?’
’10 year old Cognac. Want to try?’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Not a big fan.’
‘You’ve had it before?’
‘My mom and I go on tastings a lot. One of our last ones was Cognac. I can gag down the two year olds, but anything older is just awful to me.’
His tone is incredulous as he leans across the table, ‘You go on tastings with your mother?’
‘Yeah. We’re really close. We do pretty much everything together.’
‘Tell me about her.’
I watch him take a sip of his drink as I answer. That simple gesture is so sexy I nearly lose it, want to reach across the table and drag him to me. This moment is light, relaxing, devoid of the nervousness that comes with wondering if you’re going to sleep together at the end of the night. We will. He knows it and I know it.
Leo is the only man I’ve spoken to who hasn’t bored me to tears, or killed my sex drive with condescending words and a machismo attitude. He’s confident in the I earned this type of way, reassured in who he is. Not many people our age are. Still looking around the corner for themselves, searching in all the wrong places and only a few right. I found myself in an Arabian desert collecting shells with my father when I was 17, and I accepted who I was while building on who I wanted to be.
His actions, his language, tell me Leo has a similar origin story that I’m desperate to hear. There’s a lull in the conversation when I want to ask everything and anything about him, but my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Em. A picture of Kate bawling and Zora drunkenly consoling her. Another message pops up on the screen: Don’t you wish you were here?
‘Your friends worried about you?’
I look up to see Leo warming the cognac between his palms and looking curious. ‘Not in the least.’
When he raises his eyebrow, I hand over my phone. The look that moves across his face is priceless. He passes the phone back to me and asks, ‘Do you?’
‘Do I what?’
‘Wish you were there?’
‘God no!’ I shudder at the thought as I pocket my phone. ‘That’s a hair-holding-barf-night all the way. It’ll be bad enough when I get back and have to clean the bathroom.’
‘They’ll make you do that?’
‘No, but they can’t clean for shit.’
He smiles and pushes his drink away, folding his arms on the table. ‘I think you secretly like taking care of people.’
I mimic him. ‘I don’t think it’s a secret.’ Before he can ask another question, I ask one myself, ‘So why Ireland? Why not Paris or Rome?’
‘My father was Irish.’
‘Was?’
‘He died a few years ago.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
Leo waves his hand at the words, dismissing them. ‘Don’t be. He was a jackass. Left my mother and me when I was eight for Chinese twin acrobats.’
<
br> ‘I’m sorry. What?’
His eyes light up and he leans closer, telling me about how his father took him to the circus and met these acrobats and fell in lust. Leo laughs, recalling flirtatious words his father said and how embarrassed he felt about the situation as an eight year-old watching his father basically cheat on his mother. ‘But that’s the type of man my father was. Led by the collar on his penis and the woman who held the leash.’
I nearly choke on my drink when the waitress comes back to check on us and ask if we need anything. Leo orders two more fingers while I settle for water. ‘We call that WPS in the states. Wandering Penile Syndrom. My father suffered from a case of it himself.’
‘My ex-wife had the female version. What would it be? WVS?’
I freeze. What did he just say? Did he just say he had an ex-wife? No, no, I could not have heard that right, because in all the conversations we’ve had, an ex-wife had never come up. ‘Excuse me?’
Leo’s looking stunned himself: mouth agape, eyes wide. ‘I don’t—’
‘You were married? Dude, you don’t even look old enough to have a girlfriend.’ That’s a lie, but I don’t know what else to say. An awkward laugh creeps up my throat as the waitress returns with our drinks. ‘Was it the equivalent of a Vegas wedding in Finland?’
A pained look crosses Leo’s face, and I watch him fight with himself for a long minute. The water warms between my sweaty palms as he scratches his head and sinks back into the leather booth. ‘I shouldn’t have told you that,’ he says finally.
I wave him off like it’s no big deal, but I’m feeling the same. He’s supposed to be fun, abroad sex guy. Sexy Leo I met in a bar, who was interested in me, who I gave my virginity to, but whose last name I don’t know. ‘It’s fine.’
‘No, it’s not.’ He growls something in Finnish before sitting up straight, leaning forward and looking me dead in the eyes. ‘I’ve been debating whether to tell you this all night.’
‘Well if it’s not important to this moment, I don’t need to know.’
It’s obvious I’m giving him an out, letting him decide how much or how little to tell me. We still don’t know too much about each other, there are no feelings involved, no labels to assign. I try to remind myself that I’m 22, that all the decisions in the world do not have to be made now or with him. Leo is the man that I’ll fuck, not the one I’ll marry or have kids with.
But even as I tell myself that, the image of him and me and our three kids pops into my head, and I can see perfectly the life I want to live—working for the State Department, traveling to exotic countries, and allowing my children to be polyglots—right in front of my eyes.
And then he opens his mouth. ‘I’m not in my twenties, Rai.’ Sighing, Leo runs a hand through his long, straight hair. He does it a few times before pulling it back and popping it into a bun at his nape. ‘I’m 30. With an ex-wife and a daughter.’
Holy fucking shit! runs around my head as I bump my knee against the table and send the drinks jumping. My perfect little family vision washes away like a sand castle on a beach taken away by crashing waves. 30. The man is thirty. With a kid. I can’t even imagine that, let alone wrap my head around it. I’m 22—have been very upfront about my age and in college-ness. Not only do I not understand why Leo’s talking to me, I can’t even fathom why I didn’t see it. That he’s a father, that he’s older. But there were signs. The water. The wrinkles. The meeting for drinks instead of very classic ‘DTF?’ or ‘Netflix n chill?’ His use of full sentences in text, correct punctuation. Who does that?
A 30 year-old, single parent that’s who.
‘A daughter?’
‘Yes. Helmi. She’s 14.’
I come to another realization. I am exactly 8 years older than his daughter and 8 years younger than him. When I was born, he was in 3rd grade. When I was in 3rd grade, he was finding out he was a father. When I was 16, trying to graduate from high school early, he was 22 with a kid and most likely starting his company or something.
If there’s a state beyond blown, I’m there.
‘Can you say something?’ he asks, reaching forward to touch my arms.
I draw back instinctively, feeling like Leo is a stranger. Because he is. And I’m an idiot. ‘Where’s your daughter?’ The words come out of my mouth before I can think better. It’s not what I want to say. Not even close.
‘With my ex-wife. They’re visiting family in Barcelona.’
‘Oh.’ I try to think of something else to say, but I draw a blank. This is so not how I expected the night to go.
‘Me either.’
I bite my lip, trying to corral my wayward mouth. Nothing in my body is in sync because despite knowing he’s a divorced parent, I want him. So fucking bad, all I can think about is dragging him across the table and acting out every filthy thing I’ve ever read in an erotica novel.
God, there’s something wrong with me.
‘Why did you tell me?’ I ask once the silence becomes unbearable. ‘We were fine the way we were. I didn’t need to know.’
Leo scratches his head, takes down his bun, and finger combs his hair. ‘I didn’t want to—didn’t have plans to. But it’s been a while since I dated anyone and Helmi is such a big part of my life that not mentioning her felt like I was taking several logs out of a bridge, making it impossible for us to cross and get closer.’
‘We’re not dating,’ I say flatly, even though it feels like it. Dating means talking, drinking, saying good morning and goodnight to each other. Means talk of family and future, and the stupidest shit. One night stands are drunk, your-number-is-smeared-on-my-arm-so-I’ll-never-call-you flings.
But it is a date, right? Zora’s words come back to me louder, with a bite.
‘I wouldn’t continue to talk to a woman I met over a week ago if we weren’t dating. And if this was just a fling, I would have fucked you in that bathroom and never called.’
There’s an intensity about Leo. A take no shit, give no shit attitude that I think comes from being a single parent young. He doesn’t have the luxury to putter around and make mistakes and be misunderstood. Bossy isn’t the right word. Direct. The man is blunt, to the point, and that’s what I like about him. Still, he doesn’t have to be. Not now, not with me. He takes what we’re doing seriously, and I have no clue why. He doesn’t need to. He’s in Ireland, traveling alone, and can get all the no-strings-attached ass he wants. I’m sure the man has never and will never want for sex. But I have a feeling that’s not why he talked to me or kept talking to me.
There are tons of women who are easier lays.
‘Do I remind you of your daughter?’ The thought nearly makes me gag, but I swallow it. Why did he talk to me and continue talking to me? I need to know the reason.
‘No! Not in the least.’
‘So then why do this?’ My hands slam down on the wood table, surprising both of us. My glass spills, water rushing over the side of the table. The waitress comes over and I try to help her clean up the mess I’ve made, but she glares at me.
When she leaves with dripping rags and the promise to bring me another glass, Leo’s voice washes over me, sending my body out of sync again, ‘At first it was because you said you’d fuck me. But now that I know you, Rai, it’s because I want to be the one doing the fucking.’
***
I end up at Leo’s hotel with no clue what I’m doing. My phone rings for what seems like the hundredth time and I finally answer it. ‘Hello?’
The door closes, flooding the room in darkness. I feel Leo move past me and a second later the desk light flickers to life, illuminating a beautifully made queen sized bed.
‘Rai!’ Em yells over the phone, making me wince and pull back the receiver.
‘What?’
‘What do you mean ‘what?’ Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been calling for over an hour.’
‘I
‘m fine.’ I swallow as I watch Leo sit on the bed and balance his elbows on his knees. ‘I’m not coming back tonight, but I’ll see you at breakfast.’
‘Rai, where are—’ I click off the phone and put it on Do Not Disturb mode before I sit next to Leo. This is it. The moment I’ve waited 22 years and nine months for.
‘You should tell your friends where you are in case something happens.’
‘You told me you only kill Coco Puffs.’
He doesn’t laugh. ‘Rai, I know I’m not the person—’
‘Did I tell you I write erotica?’ I interrupt, leaning closer. ‘It’s a freelance job, but I’ve written over a hundred sex scenes. And some were very, very hard to write.’ I move closer, placing my hands on his thigh. ‘Sometimes I’d need to stop and get my vibrator. I was so wet, I couldn’t—’
My back meets the mattress a second before his tongue spears my mouth. I can feel it, the tight leash Leo’s kept on himself all night, yet another thing that comes with time. Most days I let my inhibitions run wild, get drunk, sleep in, live for my twenties because I have no responsibilities. But that’s all Leo has. He can’t make a wrong choice or move like me because he knows the repercussions.
His hand moves down my side, fingers finding the belt loop of my jeans and tugging me toward him. I’ve seen dicks, read about them, written about them, but it’s my first time feeling one. Leo feels about as thick as a cucumber and as hard as a carrot.
‘Rai,’ Leo pulls back, looking down at me with a cracked smile-slash-grimace. ‘Your stomach just growled.’
It takes me a second to understand what he just said. My cheeks heat as my stomach announces itself again. ‘I forgot to eat lunch.’
Leo groans and rolls off me. He pushes onto his feet and moves toward the desk. ‘Here.’ A leather bound book comes flying at me and I catch it, opening to the food section.
‘Are you hungry too?’ I ask, perusing the menu.
‘Not for food.’
Our eyes meet and I know that Leo’s leash is barely back on. One word, one look, and I’ll be right back where we started. ‘Um, I don’t have to eat.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘No really. The kitchen doesn’t close until eleven and it’s only just ten. I can get something later.’
He leverages himself away from the desk and very slowly, deliberately, walks toward me. Arms stretch to cage me in, hands flat on the comforter as he speaks, ‘You think I’ll be done in an hour?’ His laugh is more growl than anything. ‘Kultaseni, that’s barely enough time for foreplay. Now order your food before I change my mind.’
***
My chicken fingers and fries arrive a half hour later. Leo watches me the whole time I eat—has been watching me, waiting. I get why romance novels always talk about the girls feeling like lambs and their lovers being wolves. The analogy is perfect.
I polish off my plate and move to set it outside of the room. My teeth are coated with a fine layer of sugar and fat, so I head to the bathroom. Surprisingly, there’s an extra toothbrush amid the unopened hotel toiletries. ‘Mind if I use the toothbrush in here?’
‘Go ahead.’ There’s a pause. ‘And while you’re at it, take off your clothes, I don’t want to rip anything.’
‘Alrighty,’ I mutter under my breath as I shut the door, brush my teeth, strip, pee, and wash my armpits and crotch. When I’m satisfied I don’t look a total train wreck, I leave the safety of the bathroom. No towel, bare as the day I was born, I allow Leo to see every scarred, stretch-marked, fat inch of me. I will never be a model, never be a size two, but as long as I can fit in my fat jeans on my period and take an okay selfie every once in awhile I’m fine with my body.
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