Holy chiz, I was early.
I was dork early. God, she's going to think I'm some weird, awkward loser girl.
As I glance around the dingy motel room—the faded wallpaper peeling at the corners and the musty scent of old sheets hanging in the air—I can't help but agree. I rub my sweaty palms on my faded blue jeans and rise from the small wooden chair by the creaky old desk. I should just back out now. It was ridiculous coming here in the first place. I haven't even paid her yet. She probably wouldn't mind; there are definitely prettier people she could be spending her time with. Not some nervous freak who's about to wazz her pants at the mere thought of—
A slow, deliberate knock at the door snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat and walk toward the door. I rub my palms on my purple knit sweater this time before I pull the door open.
I blush instantly.
She's even prettier in person. Her profile photos didn't do her justice. My mouth falls open for a second, and I stand there for an embarrassingly long time, just staring.
I must look like a gank! Say something! Use your words. Yes, speak. Anything. A noise. Mumble something.
I stammer and try to steady my heartbeat.
It pounds in my ears like a drum.
She's tall, towering a good few inches over me even though she's in flat boots. Dark, jet-black hair, messy yet intentional, cascades down her shoulders in jagged waves, framing her pale, almost porcelain skin. Her eyes, rimmed in smudged black eyeliner, are sharp and piercing, the kind of green that looks almost golden in this dim light. She's all edges: cheekbones like razors, lips painted in deep matte black, set in a calm, unbothered line. Tattoos crawl up her slender neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of her fitted black top, which clings perfectly to her lithe frame. The gap between her cropped shirt and ripped, low-rise jeans reveals a glimpse of her flat stomach, where more inked lines snake across her skin.
She raises a pierced eyebrow at me after a few tense seconds.
"Victoria Vega?" she asks, her voice low and a little rough around the edges.
I nod dumbly, stepping aside. My brain begins to fire off a rambling mess of thoughts, but I shut the door behind her and try to suppress the flood.
"Sorry about that—I wasn't, I mean, you're just so—this is kind of a first for me—."
Unsuccessfully, I might add.
"I take half up front." Her voice cuts through my stumbling words. She doesn't look at me, just strides over to the window and pulls the curtain shut with one quick motion. The room darkens, and she takes a moment to straighten her top, her movements slow and purposeful. She finally turns back to me, her emerald eyes locking onto mine like she's waiting to see if I'll fall apart under the weight of her gaze.
If looks could kill, I'd be on the floor. Dead. I'd be greeting dear old pastor Tim from my old church soon enough. Singing hymns and hallelujahs, praising jesus and christ whoever else is partying up there.
I nearly chuckle nervously; at least my heartbeat wouldn't be so erratic.
I gulp, trying to keep my nerves in check as I take in every inch of her. The black lipstick, the ink, the curve of her hips, the heavy boots that add a subtle clunk to her steps. Her presence fills the room, dark and magnetic. My eyes, even though I try not to stare too much, are glued to her.
"Uh, uhm, yeah, sure. H-Here." I stammer, mentally cursing myself as I fumble toward the bed where I'd tossed my purse an hour ago. My hands shake slightly as I pull out the money and hand it to her. She takes her time counting the bills, her sharp eyes never leaving the notes as I hover awkwardly, swallowing again as she finally nods, satisfied.
She turns to face me fully, stepping forward.
"Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted the whole ordeal, hm? Soft and sweet? The girlfriend package, is that correct?"
At her words, I wasn't sure if my face could turn any redder. It was either that or I'd combust, so I allowed the heat to soak me. I blush scarlet, and I swear I see amusement glint in her sharp silver eyes. Her heavy black boots thunk softly on the carpet as she steps closer, pressing herself flush against me.
"Y-Yes," I nearly whimper as one of her hands cups my hip, her fingers grazing the skin just beneath the hem of my sweater. She looks at me so tenderly, her intense gaze softens, and a small, knowing smile tugs at her lips.
"Is that right, baby?" she murmurs, her voice low and velvety. Her eyes glaze over as she leans in, her black-coated lips coming dangerously close to mine. I squeal, a high-pitched sound of nerves escaping me, and step back awkwardly. A nervous chuckle slips from my lips, and she looks momentarily confused.
"I'm sorry—I—I—." I fumble with my words, embarrassed, and plop myself down on the bed. The old mattress creaks beneath me as I lean forward, pressing my palms into my eyes, trying to will away the humiliation.
The bed shifts beside me, and I realize she's taken a seat next to me. Close, but not too close, giving me just enough space. I can feel her eyes on me, waiting, but patient. After several long, tense seconds, I finally look up at the blurry wall, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
"Are you alright?" her voice is quieter now, soft with concern. Fake or real I'm unsure. I've already paid her so this is probably part of the act.
I laugh harshly, shaking my head.
"Yeah, I'm—wait, no. I'm not. I feel stupid. This is stupid. I shouldn't—"
She sighs softly next to me, the sound gentle yet laced with understanding.
After a few moments, she speaks again, her voice softer this time. "You're not stupid." There's a calm certainty to her words, as though she's heard this all before. I'm not sure how many times she's been in this situation, and to be totally honest, that's not something I want to think about right now. I gulp nervously and wring my hands through my sweater, tugging at the purple threads. "This isn't stupid. You're just… nervous."
I peek at her through my fingers, feeling the heat still burning in my cheeks. She's staring straight ahead, her posture relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. Her dark hair falls over her shoulder in loose, messy waves, and her tattooed hand rests casually on her knee, her fingers drumming softly against the fabric of her jeans. She looks so effortlessly composed, like she's entirely in control of the moment and subsequently of me.
"I am nervous," I admit, my voice quiet, shaky. "I-I don't know what I'm doing. I've never… done anything like this before. I've never even kissed anyone." My heart pounds in my chest as the revelation tumbles out, the confession hanging in the space between us.
She glances over at me.
Her gorgeous, gorgeous lips curve into a grin, and there's something almost affectionate in the way she looks at me. Like I'm fragile. Breakable. I suck on my lip, an awkward nervous habit.
"Never?" Jade asks, and I hum. "We don't have to rush anything. We'll go slow." She reaches out, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before resting lightly on my knee. Electricity sparks as her fingers float against my skin, barely touching. I let out a shaky breath. Her touch is light, but holy chiz, it's driving me crazy.
I take in much-needed oxygen, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease, if only slightly. "I just… I've never—With a girl, or guy, for that matter. It's all new," I mutter, my hands still covering my face, but my fingers now parting just enough to peek through.
"I understand," she says with a quiet chuckle. "Believe me, I've had worse first encounters." Her manicured thumb gently strokes the side of my knee, and I shiver at the small touch. "And you're… cute, you know that? Even when you're flustered."
Chiz me sideways and call me Sikowitz.
I'm what?
I let out a small, nervous laugh, my hands slowly lowering from my face. "I don't feel cute," I say, glancing over at her. "I feel like a mess."
There's a beat of silence, a knot twisting in my stomach.
"Well, you're my mess tonight," she says with a smirk, her dark lipstick making the playful curve of her lips stand out even more. My eyes widen as she shifts closer, her earlier presence warm and comforting now rather intimidating. Her hand moves from my knee to my thigh, but it's a slow, deliberate touch, like she's waiting for me to pull away if I need to. Dragging her long fingers up the seam of my jeans nearly sends my eyes rolling back.
When I don't make her stop, her fingers brush the fabric of my jeans at the curve of my inner thigh, lingering just enough to make my breath hitch.
I meet her gaze, and there's something almost hypnotic in the way she looks at me.
Her eyes, dark, now seem to shimmer with a burning heat. "We'll take it slow," she repeats, her voice a low murmur. "I'll be sweet. Just like you wanted." She leans in close, a soft kiss is pressed against my neck. I bite my lip to keep from whining pathetically.
"Okay," I breathe, the word barely escaping my lips, but she hears it. Her smile deepens, and I think I see the glint of amusement return to her eyes.
"Good girl," she whispers, her voice sending a shiver down my spine.
To be continued...
This will be Jori and rated M for the second chapter.
Reviews would be awesome, see you next time!
