(If you missed Part 1, find it here!)
1993
Seattle, Washington
Two Weeks Later
“The party’s around here?” Dan asks, holding my hand a little tighter.
I pull the hand-drawn, xeroxed map from my pocket and try to study it while looking like I’m not studying it.
“It’s another block, then down an alley,” I say, pointing. I shove the map back into the pocket of the short black dress I’m wearing with Mary Janes and bright red knee socks.
“This feels like a setup,” Dan teases as we walk past empty warehouses, half of them empty. “You sure this isn’t the end of your long con?”
“Isn’t two weeks more of a short con?” I counter.
“Probably depends on whether you’re the conner or the conned,” he muses. “Anyway, if you’re going to lure me into an alleyway to jump me for my millions, just do it now and get it over with.”
I just laugh. Even though we’re walking through a half-abandoned industrial neighborhood after midnight in search of a party taking place in an old warehouse thrown by some guy simply known as “Juggernaut,” Dan makes me feel safe. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, and he squeezes back, my heart beating faster.
Everything about him makes my heart beat faster. We’ve been on a handful of dates in the past two weeks, and every single one has gone about three hours longer than I thought it would. When I talk to him on the phone, Dan is always teasing me as the reason he’s late to work in the morning.
But we still haven’t slept together. Even though I think about it pretty much constantly. Even though I can barely keep my hands off of him when we’re together, even though we end every date by making out in his Toyota, the windows fogged, my hands up his shirt, on his perfect abs.
We can hear the music as soon as we turn the corner into the alleyway, and we let it guide us in. The place is packed with people, and it’s a whirlwind of torn jeans, flannel shirts, plaid skirts, and red solo cups. Even though he’s dressed down in jeans and a black t-shirt, Dan still sticks out.
Probably his whole ‘I’ve showered recently’ vibe.
We make our way through the crowd, toward the collection of kegs in one corner. We grab beers. Dan’s still holding onto my hand, and he laces his fingers through mine as I wander through the crowd, greeting people and introducing him.
Ava and Nadine are there. Ava’s chatting up some blond guy wearing flannel and fingerless gloves; Nadine’s sitting on a couch made of old pallets, making out with a curvy redhead in fishnets.
The band is downstairs, and we go down there to listen, my hand still in his.
* * *
Dan is a very, very good kisser.
We’re ignoring the band. We’ve been ignoring the band almost since we got here, standing against the back wall, our bodies pressed together. Inside the room it’s warmer, but here along the outside, where the windows are missing, there are cool drafts that skim over my body, making me shiver.
Dan bites my lower lip, tugging at it slightly. I sigh, my head against the wall, his body pressing me into it. His hands are around my waist, tugging me in, my arms around his powerful shoulders.
His rock-hard erection is pressed right up against me. I’ve got one foot against the wall, my knee on the outside of his hip, and our bodies are moving together, sometimes along with the music and sometimes not.
I want him to lift me up and fuck me against this wall. I feel like I’m going out of my mind as I wrap an arm around his shoulders — apparently urban planners lift boulders all day, judging by Dan’s muscles — and try to tug myself upward so I can wrap my legs around his hips and beg him for more.
He doesn’t let me. He’s got both his hands anchored on my hips and he holds me against the wall, pinning me in place while he kisses me long and slow.
“What was that?” he teases, his voice low and melodious, barely audible over the music.
“Just trying something,” I murmur.
“You mean just trying to flash a room full of people?” he says, his hand on my bare knee, the one propped against his hip.
“That’s what you’re there for,” I say, our faces millimeters apart. I kiss him again, slow but urgent, biting his lip. “You’re screening my dignity from the masses.”
“Is that the only thing I’m here for?”
His hand goes higher, up my thigh. I exhale, shuddering, as his fingers glide beneath the hem of my short dress. I shove my hips forward, my body meeting his, his thick erection bumping against me.
We kiss again, harder, needier, my hand grabbing the waistband of his jeans. There are people swirling around us, but no one seems to be looking as his hand moves higher and higher until suddenly his fingers are skimming along the edge of my panties.
My head goes back against the wall, my breathing ragged. Through heavy-lidded eyes I watch Dan: the guy who dresses like a dork at rock concerts. The guy who can explain why green turn arrows on traffic lights are bad for urban areas and actually make it interesting.
“I thought you were guarding my dignity,” I whisper.
His thumb glides along my panties, tracing over my lips, the very tip of my clit as my body jolts. The look in his dark eyes is pure hunger, and I can’t tear my gaze away.
“I am,” he says, the teasing note back in his voice. “No one else in here knows you’re soaking wet right now.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. My breath catches in my throat and I swallow hard.
His thumb grazes me again, stroking the wet fabric, pleasure spiking through me in a quick jolt as he touches my clit, the edges of my lips, making me ache for more.
I wriggle up against the wall, pushing myself against him, trying to find the position that’ll make him do more than tease me, but there’s not one. His thumb keeps sliding over me with just enough pressure to light my nerves on fire, but not enough to get me off.
I grab the front of his shirt. I grab the belt loops on his jeans, pull him in toward me. I kiss him and he strokes me again, softly, and I moan, thrilling at his touch.
“Let’s go back to my place,” I whisper, my voice as ragged as my breathing.
The tip of his thumb circles my clit, still through my panties, and I gasp.
“Why?”
“So we can…”
This thumb circles, flicks me softly. I bite my lip and my eyes slide shut, both hands tight fists in his clothing.
“…do this?” I gasp out.
“Seems like we’re doing this just fine right here,” he says, his voice a low purr that thrills through my bones.
Casually, Dan looks over both his shoulders.
“I don’t think anyone knows that I’m about to make you come against this wall,” he says, then grins, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. “If you can keep it a secret, I can keep it a secret.”
His thumb circles me again, and I can’t hold back a moan. Thank God it’s loud in here, thank God this band is playing and thank God everyone is drunk.
“But we can leave if you want,” he murmurs into my ear. “Or you can come and then we can leave.”
He nibbles at my earlobe as he tugs my panties to the side, his warm fingers sliding underneath, finally skin-to-skin.
“Your choice,” he says, and plants his thumb right on my clit, circling slowly.
I don’t answer. I just grab the back of his neck and pull him toward me, crushing his mouth against mine. I kiss him desperately, feeling like I might fall into pieces if he stops or slows down.
He doesn’t do either. He pushes me harder against the wall, strokes me faster and harder. His erection is massive, thick and pulsing, hard against my inner thigh. I flatten my palm against it, and he groans, moving against me.
People walk past, laughing, carrying red solo cups. One of them glances at me and I couldn’t care less because Dan’s still stroking me, circling, rubbing, and I’m getting closer and closer to the edge.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I bite my lip, forcing myself not to whimper or moan even though I’m shaking. I’m gasping for air, pressed against this wall.
“Don’t stop,” I manage to whisper, though I have no idea if he can hear. “God, Dan, please don’t stop.”
He pushes himself against me, rock-hard against my thigh, his lips against my ear.
“I would never,” he growls.
I explode. White lights flash behind my eyelids as my climax shoots through my body like electricity through my veins. I’m trembling. I’m shaking. I’m pulling Dan against me like I’m drowning and he’s a life raft, my lips seeking his.
He doesn’t stop until I’m finished, until my core is jolting with every stroke, until I grab his wrist and pull it away and he takes my thigh in his hand, pulling my leg further around him.
Dan kisses me again, harder. Needier. He sides his hands under my ass, lifts me, and I wrap my legs around him, my back still against the cool concrete wall. He’s rock hard against me, and now it’s his cock against my clit, sending a thrill through me with every movement he makes.
“Joan,” he finally murmurs between frantic kisses. “Jesus, that was beautiful.”
I wrap my legs around his hips harder, squeeze him with my thighs. He grabs my ass under my skirt and grinds me against the wall, our mouths locked together again.
“We have to leave,” I manage to gasp out. “Now.”
He laughs softly, nuzzles his face against mine. He kisses my jaw, my earlobe, the spot on my neck just under my ear.
“Is my place closer or is yours?” he asks.
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