Later that day, I found myself in a diner on the wrong end of town with the Wolverine. Better to keep this kind of thing away from home. As far as possible.
The place was shabby but at least clean. Logan seemed to be a regular, the owner greeting him, the waitress overfamiliar. The smell of sizzling meat on the grill turned my stomach instead of enticing me. Anticipation of what's to come making me jittery. Or that could have been the coffee I'd pounded all day in an attempt to prepare myself. For what exactly, I wasn't sure. At this point, it was just a nervous tick.
Turned out I hadn't driven last night. Great call. Saved me from either crashing or spending the rest of the night in jail. Or both. Although trying to imagine Logan heaving my sorry, drunken ass onto his bike and keeping me there while he drove home was hilarious. Mostly because I'd managed to ruin his evening.
I'd got a cab back home after what transpired that morning, thinking it wouldn't be a good idea to stick around. We both valued our privacy. Probably for entirely different reasons. I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep myself occupied all day. When it was finally time to get ready to leave, I'd dressed as basic and nondescript as possible. Longsleeved black top, washed black jeans. Sneakers, in case I needed to run again.
I was glad I'd dressed down as he was in his usual flannel, but underneath the buttoned (and ironed!) shirt, he wore a crisp white t-shirt. He'd also trimmed his hair and beard down, and the uneven ends stuck out at odd angles. It was endearing but also strange. He caught me looking, beer halfway to his mouth.
I cleared my throat and looked away. Fiddled with the paper straw wrapper under the table. The many times I'd fantasized us on a 'date', it was never under such strained or bizarre circumstances.
He put the condensated bottle down.
"I wanna make you a deal."
"Oh?" What a stupid answer.
"I don't want you seeking out strange guys for sex anymore."
Erm, what? That simple assertion made my temper flare.
"Okay, you fucking hypocrite! How do I get my needs met then?"
He didn't smile.
"I want to offer you a safe space to fulfill your sexual needs. Without judgement."
So that's what this was. An intervention. I was such an idiot. What had I actually thought this was about? It was just another way I could be under his thumb. To be as docile and obedient as the women he picked up. I used that burning shame and resentment as ammunition.
"Fuck you!" I spat.
"That's not what's on the table, kid."
I rolled my eyes, "Oh, thank goodness."
"I get one dinner with you a week, to start. You'll eat what I chose. You'll tell me whatever I wanna hear. Then you get to see whatever you want."
The offer was barely veiled coercion but mouthwateringly good. I'd have to give up my freedom. But one meal a week wasn't disastrous. The secret telling, however, was.
He was a man steadfast in intent and tonight was no exception. If he had it in him to be soft, lenient, I'd never seen it. Perhaps I could get away with more than most, a 'soft spot' in his firm rigidity, but that was by no means a free pass. He was going to give me the third degree. Tell me why again I was desperate for his approval?
"I can't tell you everything."
"Why? I'll think you're crazy? That ship's already sailed," The little lift of his lips thawed the top layer of my protective, icy exterior just a bit.
This conversation was going to open up a lot of barbed doors. The kind with police tape and warning signs all over them. I didn't want to give up my secrets so easily.
Our food arrived then, smelling decadent and most definitely over the calorie limit for an entire day. The forward waitress from before, older than I thought on closer inspection, too old to be of any interest to him, dropped the plate of cheeseburger and fries in front of me. It was so heavy, it required two hands to bring to the table, and thunked when it hit the Formica countertop. She returned a moment later with a gigantic lump of charred meat dripping with barbeque sauce for Logan.
"Anything else, hon?" she was looking at him, not me. Logan declined, and she gave him a light pat on the shoulder as she headed back towards the kitchen. Maybe she didn't seem so bad after all.
Once she was out of earshot again, I leaned in.
"How do I know you're going to keep your end of the bargain?"
"You need me to write it down? Blood okay?"
I snorted, and he offered me a wolfish grin, all teeth and no humor.
"I'll tell you one secret. After."
"Why do I have a feeling this is going to cost me a lot?"
I ate as much of the cheeseburger as I could, stuffing the rest between the vinal seat cushions when he wasn't looking. The diner was crowded for a Sunday night. A lot of kids on winter break. Greying men with tight deadlines. A group of rough guys who looked like they belonged to a motorcycle club. I passed a lot of the time covertly watching others; it was a favored form of procrastination.
I could tell I'd fooled him when he gave a pleaded look, which made me feel a little guilty. Until he spoke.
"So, wha'cha want for dessert?"
He picked a different fight bar to before. More crowed. Rowdy. Dirtier. Probably more suited for what he was looking for. Truth was, I was too scared to come to a place like this. Not in fear for myself but how the violence would affect me. That I would find watching half-naked men pound each other bloody too much of a turn-on.
Once I had a few measures of whiskey down me, I felt a little more at ease. And a lot defensive. Logan assessed the room with cold, detached calculation. It reminded me again of hunting as opposed to looking for a partner.
"What you looking for?"
"A match."
I snorted into my drink, but he wasn't kidding.
"What makes a match?"
"Someone who knows what the deal is. Young but not near the danger zone. Long hair. Nicely shaped, I like curves."
I crossed an arm tight over my chest.
"Like a good handful too. Up top and down below. Som'thin' to hold onto. Nice lips, big n' soft."
For such a stoic man, I hadn't expected him to be so crude in description. Our relationship was changing, I knew that. But I'd never heard him objectify women before, describe them purely in the physical.
"I didn't realize you were so complex," I added in a scathing tone.
He just shrugged, "It's a pretty basic thing. We're all wired that way."
"What way? To be shallow?"
"Nah. To have our base desires met. Women want the strongest of the pack. The alpha. Men want the most nubile. S'nature."
Him talking like that was starting to bother me. In more ways than just my feminist standings. Talking so innately about the fundamentals of desire. Actually, what annoyed me more was that I already knew what he was like, and I still found it appealing.
I squirmed. In turn, he leaned in closer, enjoying my discomfort.
"Talkin' about this get'cha hot?"
"No," I responded too quickly, feigning indifference.
The Wolverine rose out of his seat, deliberately, commanding the space, boxing me in with brawn and dominance. Purposely blocking my escape routes and leveling up our verbal pissing contest. The first and second grey flags.
In contrast, my body responded in a visceral, very telling way. It was his scent, more than anything, that drove me wild. Soap, and bourbon and the distinctly sweet tobacco of the cigars he favored.
The amusement, the challenge, was evident in every line of his hard body. In the set of his heavy jaw. In the creases at the corners of his eyes and around his tight smirk.
"Ain't that what you came for?"
I knew what we were here to do. The whole experience felt a little surreal. He picked a young woman with 'big tits and blow-job lips' because that was what I specified I'd wanted to see. Ease myself into it. Although even the thought of what was about to happen made me twitchy.
The auburn-haired beauty had at least twenty pounds on me, and they seemed to be distributed across her chest and ass. He kept running his hands across her rounded backside, filling his palms and squeezing the peachy flesh through her snug leather pants. She didn't seem to mind.
Paralegal gone slumming. Not her typical hunting ground. Tired of her usual territories and the limp-handshakers of the corporate world, looking for fresh meat, and someone who really knew how to put his money where his mouth was.
Taller than he'd normally pick. Long legs. With her heels, she could almost look him in the eye. I imagined her to be as uninhibited and wild in bed as her thick mane of glossy hair. A straight-shooter. Brains as well as beauty, if her sharply intelligent green-hued eyes were anything to go by. Although, I didn't have her down as the order-taking type, which may be a problem where our arrangement was concerned.
I needn't have worried. In a convenient storage room out back, he already had her on her knees before the tumblers had locked into place. The woman agreed to the offer, as long as she got off as well, which Logan agreed to without hesitation.
She nuzzled into his crotch, nipping and stroking through his tight jeans before sliding open his belt buckle.
I wet my lips, unconscious of the action.
"Slow," he commanded, speaking to her but not taking his eyes from mine. The woman let out a small, mewling whine, an obvious tell to her level of need. He ran a palm over the bulge trapped underneath the confining denim, and squeezed. The low grunt of pleasure it drew from him affected me, in more ways than one. He flinched, visibly. Like he'd been shot. Like a kickback. I could hardly breathe.
The condom packets hadn't prepared me for the moment when his pants were slid downwards and his erection sprang free. He was big. And so impossibly thick. Virile, purple-headed and weeping. My mouth went dry as the woman's open wet one lay kisses over his rigid flesh.
He was so caught in the moment, eyes only for her, which was good, because if we made eye contact now, I'd bolt. And I think he knew that. A large hand comes down to heft the heavy flesh between his legs, building anticipation for all involved.
Another contradiction. He was usually so guarded, so protective over his privacy, yet showed no inhibition in the bedroom. Or storage room, in this case. No hiding his intimate self. Even if it was part of the deal, the way he handled the raw, sheer realness of the situation with such ease really threw me off.
She sucked him into the wet heat of her mouth, the tip of his cock bumping the soft palate at the back of her throat. He emitted a low moan, fingers trailing down to weave into her long, copper-colored hair.
I'm not sure how long it was, the rhythmic bobbing of her head. His stifled grunts of pleasure, eyes squeezed shut. Each one winding me tighter. Increasing my need and suffering in equal measures.
When he's close to coming, that hand drops again, to cup his balls. Kneading and squeezing, trying to prolong the moment where he's teetering on the brink of brutal pleasure, just before the long, treacherous tumble down.
All of a sudden, his demeanor changed from passive to aggressive. It happened in the set of his heavy body, tightening of muscles. Jaw clenched, something wild unleashed. The true darkness I'd only ever seen glimmers of before surfaced, rearing its feral head.
His other hand tightened in her hair, and he rammed his cock down the back of her throat, making her gag and splutter. As he came, he let out a hoarse groan, dragged from some bleary depths. The woman on her knees bucked, but he held her there until he'd ridden out the last of the waves. Then his hand loosened, went from commanding to caressing.
"S'ry," he mumbled from afar, eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. She looked up at him, and he wiped a pearl off of her upper lip with his thumb. From that small gesture alone, she'd already forgiven him. She's sure to have a sore throat tomorrow, likely intensified by the screaming orgasm he'd silently promised her in return.
It'll be so good, she'll not care. His face buried in her pussy, growling into her wet flesh until she exploded around him. Then he'd suit up and bury himself in her tight little body to the hilt, and fuck her until her legs trembled and they were both exhausted.
I'd seen enough once he'd came. I needed to get out of that tiny, sweltering room. Outside to some fresh air that didn't smell of his satisfaction and release. Away from the front-row seat of the kind of experience I could only imagine.
A line had been crossed. The uncovered terrain, vast and formidable. Scorched. Everything was suddenly ablaze. Whatever his game was; ascertain his dominance, rub my face in it, define a relationship that never was. In every way, it proved him right. And burnt whatever we had down to cinders in the process.