Page 38 of Omega Artist
I let out a sigh of relief between gritted teeth. I’m no creeper in search of underage prey. We met online… no, no, no, she found me on my social media. We became friends… no, no, no, we became closer than that. We didn’t do anything wrong… no, no, no, her words get me hard every time I picture her while stroking my dick.
Fuck, what have I done? Leading her on like this?
The thought sends a chill down my spine, and I can’t shake the sick feeling. She’s much too young. I’m much too broken. We’re much too different, aren’t we?
“I think I’m gonna get the salmon burger. What about you?” There’s a pause, and I realize I’ve been sitting in silence.
Because, as much as I hate to admit it, she triggered my interest months ago. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, our online teasing pleases me to no end. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I became addicted to her in no time.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing innocent about what I’m after as far as she’s concerned. Ever since spotting her at the bar tonight, I’ve been picturing her naked under me. Long legs. Small waist. Ample breasts... and let’s not forget her luscious heart-shaped mouth and that phenomenal ass that I couldn’t tear my eyes from while waiting for our Uber.
“Are you okay?” Her worried eyes zoom in on mine, and I can’t stop fidgeting in my seat. Thinking about her sinful features as she caresses my hand isn’t the brightest idea.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that we’re really here.”Pun intended. Really hard… I swallow the lump that’s lodged in my parched throat and take a gulp of sparkling water. “I think I’ll get the steak. Do you mind ordering for me? I’ll be back in a few.” With that, I break the physical contact that she established and bolt out of my chair with one thing in mind: relieving the ache. Thank God my sweater is long enough to conceal the majority of my pitiful state. I’m dying to take advantage of it with her, but currently that isn’t an option. “Well done, please. I’m… I’ll be back.”
Two strides later, I hear her voice at my back. “Hopefully.”
I’m being rude, but I can’t help it. I hate having to take care of myself in a public bathroom. Granted, it’s practically home. Practically because I don’t live at the Heights Cafe. It’s only the place where I used to visit twice a week with Delia. It’s only the place where I’m comfortable enough to drop all pretenses with the staff. It’s only the place where I tend to invite my hookups for coffee. As if I need to have Delia’s approval.
Tonight is no exception. Same place. Same table. Different woman… well, girl.
On my way back from the bathroom, I’m much calmer. I catch sight of Alie’s back from a distance and smile at my good fortune, that is, until the universe disagrees and chooses to fuck with me by sending me a sign.
Dammit! Why now? Why here? Just why?
At first, I stand with my mouth gaping in front of the odd couple that’s clearly leaving the cafe.
“Hello, Rose. Nice to see you here,” I mumble to the woman that I occasionally meet either here or at the gym with her fitness addict of a boyfriend. Her face drops as she glances at the impossibly tall guy to her right and freezes. I gawk at the sick joke that the universe is playing on me the night that Alie and I are finally together.
I would recognize this guy anywhere. Virgil Blake. I can tell that he reads my recognition before Rose introduces him. I can tell that he doesn’t place me, despite the permanent marker we share. I can tell that he would be pleased to see his work of art proudly displayed in Green-Wood Cemetery. He did a beautiful job engraving Delia’s tombstone with the most delicate calligraphy; this guy is freaking talented, even though I wish that I’d never come to know it. He’s from New Jersey but came highly recommended by Drake, a long-time friend from my apprenticeship days, who somehow befriended Claire, who hired him when things went downhill for me. Small world.
The strawberry blond guy nods, extends his arm for a handshake, and as his pale blue eyes bore into my brown ones, he says, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. de Luca.” Without another word, I realize that he remembers, but his kind words wound deeply. Fucking drunk driver, who ripped my heart out and ended my life the day my wife died. My rib cage constricts, and my breath catches in my chest; my thank you comes out in a sputter. Rose shoots him a glance and winces at me.
To chase the sensation away, I start making small talk in rushed words. Our last gym session. Their delicious dinner. The perfect neighborhood. We’re about to part ways, and after I mindlessly conclude with, “Tell Bruce I said ‘hi’!” the strangest thing happens.
In the blink of an eye, the restaurant turns pitch black and stone-cold silent. No lights. No music. No conversations.
What the actual fuck?
By the time I finish this profound thought, everything goes back to normal. I take a quick gander at the other customers, and nobody but me seems to have taken notice of that…what was it exactly? Maybe I imagined it or I blanked out for a moment.
Man, I need to pace myself.
“I think we’d better get going, right?” His head swivels towards Rose, they say goodbye, and I watch them go, transfixed; they’re holding hands.
They are curiously ill-fitted because he’s so tall and so pale, yet there’s something about them that radiates unconditional love. It sends a cold sweat down my spine that has nothing to do with the fact that I might be witnessing Rose cheating on Bruce. Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck about what’s going on between those two. My sickening sensation comes from deep within my tortured soul. Because I remember how unconditional love felt. Because I remember how I foolishly believed it was eternal. Because I remember how I lost it in a heartbeat nonetheless. My lonely heart aches, and I decide that rushing things with Alie would be wrong. It crosses my mind that she mentioned purchasing a one-way ticket, and the last thing I want to do is scare her off. She took this trip to meet me, so it must mean something to her.
I eventually return to the table with a clearer head but remain troubled by the incident; let’s see what she says.
She leans across the table as soon as I reappear, concern written all over her face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have… sort of.” I give her a heavily edited Cliff-Notes version of my encounter, ignoring the part where everything went dead: one of my gym buddies is cheating on her boyfriend, and it’ll be awkward the next time I see him. “I don’t get why people cheat. Not that it’s any of my business, but…” I shake my head to force myself to forget about the whole thing. “Well, I shouldn’t have kept you waiting... I’m so—” I stop in my tracks and chuckle when our previous conversation comes to mind. She joins me when I add, “Sorry, not sorry!”
“I knew you were a fast learner! And there’s no need to worry anyway. The food just got here.” We eat in silence for a couple of minutes, as if she senses that I need some time to recover from this experience. My uneasiness slowly lessens as my concentration drifts from my past to our present. “How was your bathroom break anyway?” Concern morphs into a mischievous grin that threatens to make me hard again too soon. I make a mental note to consult a doctor, since being hard 24/7 can’t be safe; I haven’t had trouble getting it up after emerging from my slump, but this isn’t healthy.
I drop my fork beside my half-eaten steak and stare at her. “Excuse me?” I create some distance by straightening my back against the chair. My hand lands on my stomach, feigning dismay.
She takes another bite of her burger, then places her hands on the table, bridging the gap that I established. Leaning her upper body over the table, she whispers in my ear, “Oh, please! You and I both know what went on in there.” Her breath tickles my ear, initiating all kinds of depraved thoughts, but nothing can prepare me for what comes next. “Masturbation is totally natural…” She resumes her position, her eyes caging mine. “Well, maybe not in a restaurant.” My eyes widen. “You know, if you’d asked nicely, I could’ve given you a hand.” She clears her throat and strips me bare with such a raunchy gaze that I blush. I’m wavering between utter embarrassment and total amusement at how ballsy she is. And here I thought she was innocent. I should have known better. After all, she followed me here willingly.
