Chapter Four: Behind Closed Doors
The hard rain drums against the windows in a mesmerizing rhythm that is moderately relaxing and solemn. As a result of the rain and the weekday evening, the bar itself is, for the most part, desolate and quiet except for the occasional chink from the glassware and the low music playing throughout the room. Olivia sits at the counter with the neck of her beer bottle between her finger and thumb. She dangles it a little while she stares down at the countertop. She usually doesn't go to the pub solely just to think about her life; normally it would be to wind down after work but not tonight. Tonight it's to stall as long as possible before going home because she doesn't want to go home to an empty house again. Or forget about all the failed relationships she had high hopes for.
Could she even call those men her lovers?
It's just one of those nights.
"Want another one, Olivia?" Logan, the bartender, asks.
"Sure," Olivia replies softly.
He shakes the excess rain off his umbrella when he is safely under the bar awning. He pushes past the door and takes the first vacant stool he sees.
"I'll have what she's having."
Olivia brings her eyes up to Mark sitting next to her. She smiles weakly and sips from her new drink.
"Out of all the bars in New York…" she begins and then chuckles to herself.
"When I got to my hotel last night, I asked someone in the elevator what were some good bars around here. They suggested this place. I didn't expect you to be here."
"Ah," Olivia says, unconvinced.
Mark shrugs, "Where's your partner?"
She doesn't feel like talking to him but it's somehow better than musing on the troubles in her life, starting with her childhood.
"He went home. It's his wife's birthday," she responds.
"And you're left without a date tonight," Mark chuckles while he sips his drink.
"We're not dating." She makes sure the clarity and irritability is clear in her voice.
"I never said you two were dating. I just noticed you're alone."
Damn him and his good logic.
Olivia looks downward at her bottle.
"So am I. Why don't we fix that?" He continues.
"I don't think so."
Mark consumes the last of his drink and orders another, "You give me your number yet you push me away every time I ask you out. Why?"
"I was tired. I shouldn't have given it to you," she mutters.
He laughs, "Nobody just gives out their number willingly due to fatigue unless they're asked a million times. I didn't ask you one damn time." He sips, "What? Did you think I wasn't going to call you?"
She doesn't respond.
Yes, she was tired but alert enough to know that she gave her number to an unselfish man that helped her find her phone. A warmhearted man that was kind enough to give her the last window seat on the plane. A fun man who kept her laughing and entertained the whole six hours. A sexy man who always gets her a little excited when he walks in the room.
A man she wanted to see again.
So, she gave him her number.
Only to realize that he might be too good for her if and when they go on a first date.
Is this their first date?
Hardly.
So, with fear holding her back, she rejects him. She shoots him down before she gets exposed to the chance of becoming hurt.
"The whole reason why I didn't call you was because I lost the thing you wrote your number on." He avoids eye contact because he doesn't want to see her reaction.
She smiles to herself and even laughs a little.
He looks at her when he hears the tiny giggle, "What?"
"Or you were just too afraid to call."
He doesn't protest - he just looks at her.
She laughs again and looks down at her near empty beer.
"You're a cop. I think most men would be," he jokes, "Only a real man can handle handcuffs."
"Are you saying you're not a real man?" Olivia teases.
"Hell no and I'll be more than happy to prove that to you."
Another small chuckle passes her lips. For a second, she actually considers it.
He shrugs and stares into his bottle, "Maybe you're just scared. You don't know what a real man feels like and you're afraid to find out."
She watches him while she quickly searches for something to say in return. Something witty. Something that'll prove his theory is complete shit and she can defend herself with one stable relationship that she's had. But she can't. She's too closed minded to even consider that there's someone out there willing to change that.
Someone right next to her.
He takes notice of her silence and eyes her drink, "Let me buy you another one."
"No thanks. I-I'm good."
"Look, I didn't mean-"
"It's fine, really. I should go anyway." She stands up and throws a few bills on the counter, "Good night, Mark." She smiles a little and begins walking out.
"Olivia," Mark sighs and pays for his drinks. He hops off the seat, grabs his umbrella, and rushes after her.
The rain seems to have gotten heavier when he leaves the bar. The sidewalk is nearly empty but that doesn't make finding Olivia any easier. He looks to his left and then to his right and when he looks across the street, he sees her calling an upcoming cab. He briskly catches up to her and adjusts his umbrella over her while she slides in. Then, he slides in after her into the cab.
"Two addresses. I'm paying for both," he tells the cab driver.
She wants to be mad at him but she can't. She could've pushed him out of the cab when she had the chance but when he got into the car, Olivia merely slid to the other end to make room. Her blood doesn't boil with irritation and anger. Her jaw doesn't clench when she feels his arm press against hers while he situates himself and she can't help but smile when he tells the cabbie that he's also paying for her. She hides her smile by looking out the window. After the vehicle begins to move, she feels him turn towards her.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said."
She has to know this is a big deal because he rarely apologizes for anything.
He looks at her for a response - an insult, a demand, anything. Nothing comes out for those few seconds of silence.
Here is a man sitting next to her, apologizing to her. An unselfish, warmhearted, fun, and sexy man that makes her heart race every time he lowers his voice in that seductive, husky, tone. And here she is – a reluctant woman who is holding her attraction from the man that is giving his all for her. And for what? For a broken heart that's not even guaranteed.
Someone needs to change and it's not Mark.
"No you're right, maybe I don't know what it feels like. Which is why…" She bites her lower lip and thinks for a moment, "I don't need another drink. I need to know what it's like." Her voice is suggestive and he knows what she means.
His eyebrows rise in astonishment.
"Olivia, are you-"
Her lips are sweet and he's hooked as soon as they meet his. He shifts toward her, allowing her hand to rest on his cheek. She doesn't waste any time with this kiss – she opens her mouth and invites his tongue to come and play. He doesn't resist – his hand is positioned on the small of her back, just below the fabric of her shirt. Heat rushes through his body while he runs his hand up her bare back, the fabric of her bra brushing at his fingertips.
Then he realizes that they're heading in the direction of her apartment. She might change her mind. Trying to keep calm, Mark taps on the Plexiglas divider and signals the driver that they are only going to his destination.
The cab drops them off at the corner of his hotel. Mark throws a twenty to the driver and tells him to keep the change. It was probably more than twenty dollars but the driver takes off anyway. He pecks her cheek before taking her hand and leading her toward the building. He feels a resistance and then a strong pull, by then his lips are back on hers. He doesn't care that they're being watched by the surrounding people, this woman is beautiful, exotic, and elusive – if he worries about everything and everybody else then she might slip away.
Finally, they make it to the elevator. Her back slams against the wall and, through half opened eyes, she watches the doors close behind Mark. He lifts up her shirt over her head and grips it tightly in his hand. They don't care about the security camera openly staring at them in the corner; they only hope that they're putting on a nice show for whoever is on the other side. The sounds of their heavy breathing and the occasional ding when they pass each floor fill the car. He kisses and nibbles on her neck while palming her breast, teasing her nipple from outside of her bra.
The doors open again and he pulls her out of the elevator, not even bothering to check if anybody else was in the hallway. Luckily for them, they're completely alone. The ache in his fully erect member is growing stronger and stronger. When they enter his room, they don't rush to the bed, instead, they claim the couch. Olivia tosses her bra aside and wraps her arms around Mark's neck while he steadies himself over her. After disrobing his shirt and his belt, he kisses the top of her breast, kissing it harder when she feels her fingers dig into his back and her legs wrap around his waist.
His hand trails down her flat stomach and he teasingly pulls at the lining of her jeans. She watches him with impatient, hungry, eyes. She sucks in her lower lip when she feels him playing with the button and then the zipper. Soon enough, her fly's undone, splayed apart.
"What are you waiting for?" She whispers.
Sex. This woman is pure sex.
A small smirk crosses his face. Then, his smirk grows into a full grin when his first two fingers penetrate her. Her back arches in a quick instant.
"Holy shit, Mark!" She squeals.
He kisses and sucks at the base of her neck while he thrusts his fingers in and out at a steady pace. Her natural aroma infiltrates his nose – addicting and sexy yet calming and comforting. A total turn on. Involuntary moans flutter up Olivia's throat like a caged animal, ready to be released. Deep, throaty, groans escape Mark and fill her ear. They only make her closer to climaxing.
A high pitched ringing interrupts their intimacy.
"Shit, no, no, no," Olivia whispers through her teeth.
She tries to ignore it and for a while, she's successful but the phone keeps begging for her attention. She lifts up her lower half of her body and reaches in her back pocket. Much to her dismay, it's a call she has to take.
"Mark," she exhales, "Mark I have to-" Her words are cut of with a moan.
Her phone doesn't stop ringing in her hand and Mark doesn't stop pleasing her.
"Benson," She pants, "Yeah Elliot?" She closes her eyes and releases a shaky breath, "I'm fine, honestly." She bites her lower lip, hard, holding back another moan while she listens to him speak. "Okay, tell him I'll be right there."
"You have to go?" Mark growls seductively in her ear, faking disappointment.
She tries to gain control, "Y-Yes."
"But you don't want to go?"
"…It's not that, I just-"
He goes harder, faster, and uses his thumb to rub vigorously on her clit.
Her toes curl and her back arches.
"I understand, Olivia. Just stay a few more minutes. That's all I need."
Her eyes flutter to a close and she wets her top lip with her tongue while he whispers explicit nothings in her ear. With the intensity is so strong she pays very little attention to what he's saying. The magnitude of pleasure conquering her body brings her to a powerful climax. She moans and screams at the top of her lungs until she collapses on the couch, her heart pounding, and her breathing harsh.
"Oh fuck," She pants, a wave of fatigue washes over her body. She wants to go again. She wants to go further but as she lies there, her ringing phone reminds her that nothing more will happen that night. She looks back at Mark, he slowly grins.
"Go," he urges and climbs off of her.
She smiles and answers her phone, "I'm on my way," she says as she gets dressed. She does a half-assed job of putting her bra back on and she quickly slips on her shirt. She kisses Mark quickly on his lips and winks at him before closing the door behind her. She listens to Elliot's accusation while waiting for the elevator.
"No, I'm not drunk."
Because everybody says no when asked if they're drunk. Even though she is, she's lucid enough to be accountable for her actions.
Every single one of them.