Page 11 of Eye Candy

“I’m guessing not,” she answered her own question. “You strike me as the shy type. That’s OK, shy guys can still get pussy.”

“Don’t say that.”

The imposter leaned low over the board. I looked away, but not before seeing the dark pink semicircle peeking out over the top of one bra cup. I moved my knight and took another of her pieces, trying not to look, think, or breathe.

“Does the wordpussymake you uncomfortable, Chase?” she asked. “You don’t need to be frightened of pussy. Au contraire, to satisfy one, it’s important you don’t show fear. My high school boyfriend was nervous the first time he ate pussy, but I made him practice. I put it in his calendar every Wednesday before rug—uh, football practice. It took time, but he got me there in the end.”

Heat raced up the back of my neck and over my ears. Still, I clung to my wits. I had to.

“No,” I said carefully, still not looking at her. “I meant don’t saypussylike it’s endgame. It’s dehumanizing. And presumptive.”

She stared at me, lost for words. That was good, that was the effect I usually had on people. The tzatziki-licking and the shirt-removing were the outliers. Besides, I didn’t want her to flirt with me. Nor did I want to be imagining tucking my fingers under that roll of fuzzy fabric and?—

This woman was lying about her identity to harass my brother. People of upstanding moral character didn’t do that.

“Do you like pussy, Chase?”

Ears feeling hot, I still answered her question. “I’m heterosexual, if that’s what you want to know.”

She nodded. “You scream cishet, but I try not to assume.”’

This woman was giving me whiplash. One moment she was crass and presumptive, the next, thoughtful and passionate.

Breaking the eye contact between us, she looked back at the chessboard and moved her queen out, a reckless and ill-fated maneuver. But I was the more reckless of the two of us, because I couldn’t accept her thinking I was some kind of sexually inept misogynist.

So I met her eyes over the board and said, “I don’t need a woman to schedule oral sex, if that’s what you’re getting at. No one needs a reminder to enjoy their favorite meal.” I pointed to my bishop and added, “Check, by the way.”

My opponent’s mouth fell open and her eyes shot to her king. “Wait. What?”

She moved her King evasively, but it was too late.

“Checkmate,” I repeated, pinning her in.

“I want a rematch!”

The sensible thing to do would have been to take the proof my win afforded and get the hell out of her apartment. Instead, I started resetting the pieces.

“Make no mistake, Sanford.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. I almost laughed. It was like being scolded by Tinkerbell. Gone was the brash heiress, gone was the seductress. She was just a beautiful woman, annoyed she hadn’t been able to flirt her way into winning a game. I shouldn’t have been charmed by her bratty behavior, but I was.

“I won’t be intimidated by you,” she continued. “You came here to bully me with your sternness, your connections, and your perfect facial symmetry. Well, it won’t work. I never give up. It’s not in my DNA.”

“Apparently, neither is chess,” I teased.

She glared. “What the Hedy Lamarr are you playing at?”

“Sorry?” I asked, then winced. I tried not to say that word by itself like that—I sounded extremely Canadian when I did, and people at school used to mimic it, calling attention to me. But thewoman across the table from me didn’t seem to notice. She was busy staring at me with a mix of shock and disgust.

“Don’t you know who that is? HedyLamarr. Austrian American scientist and golden age film star. She basically invented Wi-Fi. How can you not know who she is?”

“Did she steal shoes inTheWizard of Oz?”

“That was Judy Garland. Although! There is a connection. Hedy worked with Judy inZiegfeld Girlin 1941. Lana Turner was in that too. I love that movie.” Her expression turned dreamy. “The scene where all the girls walk down the staircase in their follies headpieces is my favorite on-screen moment of all time. Lana Turner was robbed of an Oscar nomination for that film. She deserved it. But, of course, because she was dressed like a showgirl for most of it, people just thought of her as decoration even though she carried the entire emotional arc of the film.”

“I’ll check it out sometime.”

Faux-Teddy folded her arms over her magnificent chest. “Insult me all you want, Chase Sanford, but you show Hedy, Lana, and Judy some respect.”

“Noted.” I spun the board so the white pieces were in front of her. “Your move.”

---