“Dum dum dum dum,” I hum slightly out of tune under my breath as I fumble with my key card. “Ooopsidaisy,” I giggle when I drop it, and stare at it on the floor, trying to figure out how to get it back in my hands.
“Geez, here!” Jez comes up, picking it off the ground and sticking it in the slot. “Get in there,” he says, pushing me through the door and sitting me down on the bed. “You okay? You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
“Ugh, didn’t I already say goodnight to you?” I say, trying to kick my shoes off.
“Yeah, that was before you couldn’t figure out how knees work.”
“Well, thank you for my biology lesson, you can go now. Anca go night-night.”
“No, Anca go tell Jez what happened tonight-night.”
“You talk funny.”
“Anca.”
“Ugh, what?”
“What happened on stage? Did you have another… um, thing.”
“Thing?”
“I don’t know what to call it. You know, panic thing. Because of the…”
I hold my hand up against his face. Don’t say, it Jez. Don’t say his name. Not today, don’t ruin my mood. “I’m fine. Just a little hiccup.” And right on cue, I hiccup.
“Why didn’t you take a sedative, I thought those were working for you?”
“I did and they are or were. I dunno, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s a bigger crowd than I’ve ever been used to. Anyway, Marius is going to help me.”
“Help you with what?”
“My stage fright, he helped me tonight on stage. And he said he’s going to help me get over it. He said he used to have it.”
“Yeah, he did. Oh god, the vomit.”
“Ew, vomit.”
“Yeah, big ew. Did you… does he know everything?”
“There’s nothing to know, Jezzy. Remember? It’s all over.” I feel myself tip over, and I cuddle up with a pillow. In the fuzzy background, I hear Jez sigh and feel him gently pull my shoes off.
“I don’t know if this was a good idea, Anca.”
“It was. Thank you. I had a wonderful night. My big brother.” I sigh and a blanket is pulled over me.
“Okay, then. Good night, baby girl. You did good tonight.” He whispers and kisses me gently on the forehead.
“Marius is nice, isn’t he?” I say, slowly feeling my body grow heavy and light at once as I fight sleep.
“What?” Jez asks.
“I mean, Marius is nice, for offering to help. With my problem”
“Um, yeah. Yes, he is. Don’t forget to thank him.”
“I won’t. Night, Jezzy.”
“Night, Anca.”
I think I’m asleep even before he leaves the room.
Marius
She’s trying to kill me.
Like kill me dead.
With a heart attack.
Like in a film noir, with me clutching my chest and lying prone on the grass in a Parisian garden while a camera zooms out and up, filming me from above while it spins. And she’s standing to the side, silently cackling, her mission accomplished.
I’m telling you, she looked up “the perfect murder” on the internet, on how to kill me without leaving a trace of her guilt, and now’s she implementing her plan, perfectly, step by torturous step.
How?
By wearing skin-tight, baby pink yoga pants, a G-string and bending over to reach her toes. Stretching. Right in fucking front of me, with that ass, that cock-instantly-hardening-like-a-baseball-bat fucking ass, barely three feet from my face.
Of course, now I can’t stand up and stretch because of the tent pole in my pants, after I agreed that I’d go through the yoga routine with her. A trade off, her yoga routine for my meditation session to help with her stage fright. Except the only thing that might frighten her now is my passing out from blood deprivation to the upper part of my body.
Fuck.
Please stop.
God, no. This isn’t happening.
Now she’s lunging. Lunging in those flimsy excuses for yoga pants should be considered illegal. I’m bloody sure there are parts of the world where it is.
Seriously? This is NOT funny, love-god, or sex-god, or love/sex-devil. This is hell.
Hell not to touch, that is. But fucking heaven to look at.
When I knocked on her door this morning and told her to get dressed, I should’ve been more specific.
A garbage bag, should’ve been one of the suggestions. Granny jeans pulled up to your neck and socks with sandals, would’ve been another helpful outfit idea.
Though, with her body, I’d probably still want to fuck her anyway, garbage bag, granny shorts combo and all.
Fuck.
“Marius.”
“Huh, what?” I look up, half shielding my eyes in case she’s decided to do the splits, in which case, the murder mission would be complete.
“I’m done stretching,” she says. She’s done. Thank the bloody heavens. “Are you just going to sit there like a lump? You’re going to get stiff.”
“Er, yeah. I stretched this morning. In my room.” I stutter, wishing I was in my room right now. Alone. Taking care of my stiffness problem.
Jabba the hut wearing nipple tassels, Jabba the hut wearing nipple tassels, I repeat to myself, my go-to hard-on killer.
It’s working at least.
I get up, pulling my t-shirt down to hide the remnants of my erection and wave her over to a cool spot under a tree.
I tell her to sit on the ground, and she does, even though she looks a little wary.
“Have you ever meditated before?”
She tells me no and crosses her arms. It’s more for protection from failure than just pure defensiveness, I think. I can’t really see her expression behind the sunglasses, so I take mine off, and tell her to do the same. She hesitates so I reach over and gently take them off. She doesn’t protest but doesn’t look happy about it.
I ignore her and hold out my hands. “Anca, put your hands in mine.”
“What? Why?” She looks down and frowns at my hands outstretched towards her.
I smile gently and say softly, “Just do it.”
She sighs and then unfolds her arms and rests the tips of her fingers against mine. I don’t push for more, it was mostly to get her to unfold her arms without just telling her outright to do it, that would’ve only made her more uncomfortable than she is.
“Close your eyes,” I say, and wait for her comply. I know it’s hard for her to let me take control; she’s still fighting every request, but I know by the time we’re done today, she’ll feel better and by tonight’s performance, her outlook may change completely.
“Now, I’ve been where you are, and I’m going to help you. Do you trust me?”
She doesn’t say anything, and it’s almost like she’s holding her breath.
“Anca? Do you trust me? There’s no point doing this if you don’t.”
She lets out her breath, slow and long before she responds. “I trust you.”
“Okay, let’s do this.”