Kim's Valentine's Day Surprise

She was shaking and needed to stop the car. She turned onto the first street to the right and pulled on the side. As she sat helpless, crying and trembling, he jumped out of the passenger's seat and came around to the driver's side and pulled her door open, grabbed her arm and started to pull her out of the car.

"You are a whore! A cunt! I can't believe you did that to me!" he screamed, hitting out at her and catching the corner of her glasses. They tumbled off her face into the street, and as he stepped forward trying to grab her out of the car, she heard the crunch.

"Did what, Greg? You were there, you were controlling the whole scene. I asked you... I did nothing you didn't tell me to do... Please, please, I need those glasses, I can barely see without them, I can't drive."

"You fucking whore!"

"Sir, you need to stop or I will call the cops! I live right there, and can hear you all the way in my house. Ma'am, are you alright? Sir, please, step away from her and stop hitting her!"

She heard the stern voice and for a minute it didn't register whether it belonged to a man or a woman. Whoever it was, she couldn't believe her luck, couldn't imagine what would have happened if the voice hadn't interfered. If she had not been driving she might have been able to defend herself against the blows, or at least ward them off, but as it was, there was nothing she could have done without getting them both into an accident.

"We're OK, we're OK. I'll stop. She's fine..."
 "Sir, she is not fine. You were hitting her. Will you stop hitting her? I will call the cops..."

"No, no, I'll stop. I don't know, I'm... I'll stop, I won't hit her anymore. Kim, I'm sorry, I won't hit you anymore. Here, here are your glasses, I'll try to straighten them out."

"Sir, please, step away from her. Ma'am, would you like me to call the cops?" the voice turned from him and addressed her.

"No, I..., thanks, no, not if he stops hitting me... it's OK, I just... I just want to leave. I need to go, I can't do this, I can't..."

"Sir?"

"Listen, please, don't call the cops, I'll leave. Kim, I'll just walk home, it's not far. Please, I'm sorry, Kim. It'll be OK, I won't hit you again. Bring the car home. The walk will help calm me down, and we'll talk."

"I can't, Greg. This is the third time this has happened, I'm done. I can't do this anymore, I can't. Thank you, ma'am, thank you for stopping him."

"Are you sure you don't want me to call the cops? Sir, I took some pictures... Please, do not hit her again, or I will call the cops." The voice was firm, brooking no contest.

"I'm so sorry, Kim. Please, come home..."

Kim started the car and eased it into drive and away from the curb, avoiding Greg as well as her savior, whose face she could not bring herself to look up to. She was still trembling and cold from the shock of the incident. She heard him yell after her, "Come home, Kim. Please, we'll talk. I'm sorry..."

She couldn't think yet where to go, but could not bring herself to go home. She could barely see, the bent glasses perching crookedly on her nose, her head throbbing from his blows. She didn't have any friends close enough to go to. She doubted she could face anyone she knew at this point, feeling as she did. Eventually she reached a motel and parked. It was ten minutes before she could find the strength to get out of the car. She'd lucked out and found a coat she kept in the back seat, though the coat did not cover the ripped stockings and she was sure her face must be frightening. Still, she had no choice. At least she had her wallet. She needed to find a bed and figure out what to do after she'd gotten some sleep.

~~~~~~~

"Kim? Kim...?"

The hand on her shoulder startled her, and she jerked her head up to meet the eyes holding a mixture of deep concern and puzzlement. Adam. She couldn't help closing her eyes to clear the memories that had taken over. She should leave. She was functioning nowhere near normal. She wasn't sure what she'd been thinking when she'd come here. She felt foolish, she should have known better. The memories were covered only by the thinnest of veils, and had come roaring to the surface.

"I'm sorry, I'm... I was just thinking. I'll be all right. I should go home, though."

"Wait, Kim. You're in no shape to be going anywhere, especially not driving."

He had come around stood behind her stool, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The contact with his body and his heat calmed her for some reason, though she couldn't think why. She didn't know this man from Adam. Except he was Adam! Gads, whatever was she doing here?

"Kim, I can't let you leave, you're not safe. Even better, please, would you come with me? I'd like to take you to a quieter place, where you can think in peace. I promise, I won't compromise you in any way."

One thing he was certainly right about, and that was that she couldn't drive right now. Did she trust him enough to let him lead her out of the club? She checked that she had her phone, and nodded. She was simply exhausted and spent, any energy she'd had entirely drained from her by the memory of that unbelievably horrible night. How had she let herself get into that situation? It made no sense. Not in a million years.

He tugged on her gently, helping ease her off the barstool, one arm still wrapped around her shoulder, the other grabbing her purse. Slowly, he led her to the stairs leading up. When she realized their destination, she stopped.

"What? Where are we going? I won't..."

"It's OK, Kim, we're not going into any of the scening rooms. There's a private area upstairs that's very quiet. Let me take care of you. It's the least I can do..."

She looked at him, puzzled - what was he talking about? His eyes seemed sincere, although he didn't explain farther and she wasn't up to insisting on an explanation. She gave in and followed him slowly up the stairs. Strangely, she didn't feel threatened by him.

They walked past the rooms, unnoticed by the people engaging in various sexual games, down a short corridor she had barely noticed earlier. When they reached the door at the end, he reached into the pocket of his black jeans and extracted a key and opened the door, then closed it softly behind them. The door immediately muffled the sounds. The corridor continued for another ten paces or so and spilled into a larger hallway. They crossed and entered what looked like a large loft, moonlight spilling into the room through a large plate glass window.

"Where are we?"

"My place."

He led her to a couch, eased her down into it, and draped a soft chenille blanket over her. "Please, relax. Let me get you something to drink? I think I'll make us both some hot tea."

"Thank you, that sounds perfect. Warm." She sat and felt the contrast as the muscles in her shoulders, arms and stomach unclenched. "So... you're the club's caretaker? Is that why you live here?"

"Caretaker of sorts. Owner, actually," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Owner," she repeated in a soft voice. "Oh..."

He watched her, wrapped in the safety of the blanket and sinking back into her thoughts, while he puttered in the open kitchen, filling an electric kettle with water and flipping the on-switch. She lost track of his movements as he walked behind the couch to a wall, and electronic music filled the room at low volume.

When he next approached the couch, he was carrying two steaming cups, one of which he set next to her on a glass end table.

"I put a cube of sugar in it, I think you can use the sweet."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. I am sorry to put you out. I don't know what came over me. I'll be OK soon, drink the tea, and be on my way. I don't mean to interrupt your evening. Night."

"Kim. You're no bother. The club is all right, and there are enough staff milling around that I don't need to worry about it. But I do worry about you, and what happened down there."

She nodded.

"What were you thinking about?"

"The last time I was here, with Greg."

"Did you meet anyone? Recognize anyone?"

She furrowed her forehead, concentrating on his facial features. "No. Should I?"

He shrugged.

"What? I didn't meet anyone. I came with Greg and left with him. We didn't talk to anyone..."

He nodded and left it at that. "Was that your first time having some sort of... sexual interaction with another man, not your partner? In front of him?"

"Yeah... it was. How did you know?"

"Logic, really. You'd been here before, without incident, but the last time, something disturbing happened. Right?"

She nodded, and he continued. "And most people seek out a sex club to have out of the ordinary experiences. Venture out beyond their comfort zone."

"Yea. Greg complained once in a while about boring sex. That I had fallen out of love with him, since the sex wasn't as exciting as it had been at the beginning."

"Had you talked about it before? About what might happen? About someone joining you?"

"I thought we had, but I guess not enough. Why do you ask?"

He couldn't possibly know what had happened after they'd left. How could he?

"There was something... not right about the way you two left that night. I pay attention to stuff like that. He was almost pushing you out of the club. It didn't look right, the way you were walking. And he looked extremely angry. It's important to me, as the club owner, that people have a good time. It didn't look like you two were happy when you left. It looked as if something bad might have been happening. Unfortunately, I didn't react fast enough. What happened?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to go over it again.

'Was that what you were thinking about when I came back earlier, downstairs? Found you crying? You looked so miserable, Kim. So lost."

She felt her eyes start tearing again, shrugged, looked around for something and didn't find it. He rose immediately and returned with a box of Kleenex.

"Will you tell me what happened after you left?"

"No, I can't. You don't want to know."

"Was he violent?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't. But her silence must have been as clear as words.

"You don't need to spell it out. He got violent, didn't he?"

"Yeah, you might say so," she said, shivering a bit as she remembered that night. "It could have been a lot worse. When we stopped the car, someone heard us fighting and kept him from hitting me again. She threatened to call the police. He stopped eventually." She took a deep breath. "The scariest part was that he was hitting me while I was driving. I could have crashed the car. He'd never done that before, in the car."

She waited, but Adam said nothing for a while, though he placed his arm around her, gentle and protective at the same time.

"Have you gone back to him?"

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't. I haven't been back. I just couldn't stay."

"Good. He'd gotten violent before?"

She was so ashamed to have been weak, not to have fought back. "He could get extremely jealous. It was the third time. And the worst."

"That couldn't have been your fault. You might have misunderstood each other, but there's no excuse to assault someone for something like that. Something you had talked about and planned together."

"I'm... Adam, please. I don't want to talk about it again. At least not now. It's just too soon. And I don't think I can talk about it with you."

She shifted in her chair, hunching her shoulders, embarrassed. In reality, she didn't know why she'd come back to the club. Unless it really was in hope to find him.

He scooted closer to her and embraced her, his arms around the blanket. His touch was comforting, calm. The complete opposite of demanding. His eyes were dark, nearly black, though in the brighter lights of his living room she could see some flecks of gold brightening them. Most importantly, they were accepting. Slowly she let her head rest on his shoulder, and he shifted her head to his chest, gaining more comfort for them both. Soon she let herself drift to sleep. Dreamless, the deepest, most restful sleep since she'd left the house she'd shared with Greg.

~~~~~~~

She woke from a relaxed sleep a bit disoriented until the previous night's events came back to her. She needed to leave. It was Valentine's Day, and she was sure that Adam must have plans. She, on the other hand, had none. Some Irish whiskey and a movie on Netflix after dinner. And maybe a date with her vibrator.

"Good morning, Kim. How do you feel?"

His voice, coming from behind her shoulder into her ear, was relaxed and unruffled, his breath a light caress on her ear.

"Nice, really. I must have overslept, I'm so sorry. I'll get out of your way."

"Get out of my way? What do you mean? You're not in my way."

"I'm sure you must have plans, and lots of things to do. What time is it anyway?" "It's about 10. And the only plans I have are, hopefully, to entertain you. If you'll let me, that is."

"Adam, really, that's very kind, but you don't have to. I don't want to interfere or intrude on anything."

"Seriously, Kim. I have no plans. I'm not seeing anyone, I have no one to spend Valentine's Day with, and there's no one else I'd rather spend it with than you. Would you do me the honor of joining me?"

He wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her in warmth. His voice seemed so sincere that she hesitated a few seconds, then nodded. It was enough for him to exclaim, "Great! Done! Unless you don't want to spend Valentine's Day with me..."

"It would be lovely, though it will make my vibrator jealous," she said, not sure whether that detail was really necessary at this point. But she couldn't resist interjecting the tongue-in-cheek comment, and was relieved to see his smile.

"Ah. Well, I'll make it up to him somehow. They're built extra tough to take rejection well, you know."

She giggled a bit, and relaxed in his arms. 
 "OK. I do have plans for you, you naughty girl. Let's get dressed and do some food shopping. In particular, for some chocolate. I'm afraid this bachelor rather fits the stereotype of the empty fridge."

"Well, this chocoholic approves! Would you mind if I use your shower?"

"Not at all. It's just down that way. Let me get you some clean towels and all that."

~~~~~~~

The day unfolded like something between a first date and a Sunday among twenty other Sundays they might have spent together. He told her about working at a sex club, and regaled her with stories from the sexually charged to the ludicrous to the completely absurd. She told him about her own profession and its challenges. They exchanged stories about personalities they'd both run into - the asinine and the sublime. For the several hours they'd spent together, she had let herself enjoy the day without overthinking things or thinking about Greg and the mess their relationship had ended in.

With a car full of groceries, few of which could be considered staple foods, they returned to his car.

"Could I talk you into swinging by my apartment briefly, so I can grab a clean change of clothes? I'd feel much better. It's not too far," Kim asked.

"Of course not, be happy to. With one condition..."

"What's that, Adam?"

"I'd like to pick your clothes to wear."

She narrowed her eyes a tad at him, then said, "OK. I'm afraid you'll be rather disappointed in my wardrobe."

"I'm sure I'll find at least a few things I'd love to see you in. The fewer the better, in general, but it would be nice to have some playful, sexy things to start the day in."

At her apartment, she watched him surreptitiously as he looked around, eyeing her place without saying anything. It was a studio in an older but central neighborhood where a lot of university students lived. In fact, they had run into a couple of her floor mates, and she'd told him that late at night and early in the morning she'd been woken by moans and furniture rhythmically hitting the wall next to her bed. She did not tell him that she'd sometimes dreamt of introducing herself to her neighbors and joining them in their frolicking. That was simply evidence of her imagination gone wild. Perhaps Greg had been right and it was her own damn fault she was randy.

Adam asked her to point him in the direction of her closet and chest of drawers and she watched him go through her things while she checked her email. It felt entirely out of character, a little dirty and exhibitionist to watch him go through her lingerie drawers so efficiently, sifting through the piles of soft, silky underthings and putting a few items on top of the chest of drawers. When he reached the black garter belt with the little pearl-white bows, he smiled and added it to the collection. He ran his hand across the thigh-high fishnet stockings and fingered the lace, then picked out a pair to add to the pile.

Next he moved to her closet and easily slid the hangers from one side to the other, looking at each hanging garment briefly. She was afraid he wouldn't find anything he'd like her to wear, but he stopped at a couple of black skirts, one of them with a slit up one side, the other schoolgirl-short with a flap and a couple of pleats and buckles. He moved past the shirts, as if he hadn't seen any he liked, but then, going back to her lingerie drawer, he picked out a soft nearly see-through mesh T-shirt with a low V-neck and added that to the pile, along with a skimpy black tank top.

"Mmm, where do you keep your shoes?" 

She pointed him to the closet near the front door, and watched as he picked up a couple, turning them around to look at the heels and examine their silhouette. But he left all the shoes behind for a pair of tall nubuck leather boots, with high but not outrageous heels.

"I bet these look outstanding on you," he smiled. "OK, I think we're set," he told her. "Do you have a small bag for these?"

She gave him one and he slid some of her clothing into it, leaving a few items out.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to put these on you," he said, pointing to what he'd left out.

She knew she blushed easily, but he took the cake with his comment - she felt the red advancing both upward and downward, reaching her cheeks, her neck, and the top of her breasts. She watched him for a few beats, then simply followed his invitation as he pointed to the sofa bed in the corner.

He looked her up and down slowly, his eyes searing her, and reached for the buttons on her shirt to undo them.

When she tried to take over, he moved her fingers away, pushing them gently to the side, and shook his head. "I'd like to do it, if you don't mind."

He smoothed her shirt off her shoulders, running his hands lightly across her skin, keeping his eyes on hers. He inserted two fingers below the bra straps and followed them down to the cups, then dipped the fingers below the lace that enfolded her globes. His thumbs swept first across the skin revealed by the cups, then below. When he swooped across her erect nipples, she drew her breath in sharply and closed her eyes, letting the feeling and heat take her over. Just a quick flick, a tease, and he brought his hands down below the band that cinched her chest under her breasts along her stomach, circled her navel, then farther down and out, to her hips.

"I like your bra. I'll leave this one on," he whispered. He pulled her tight skirt down and helped her step out of it.

Bringing the backs of his hands together across the expanse of skin, his knuckles light and just under the top edge of her black panties. His hands turned and the thumbs now reached down, another swoop along the sensitive skin above her mound, then over it, both thumbs meeting just over the fleshy lips and dipping into the seeping moisture. It was he who closed his eyes now, briefly, as her hips jutted forward against him, encouraging his thumbs to dip farther in. Watching her again, he closed the distance between his thumbs, pushing her labia together and apart, dipping in, then beginning to circle her clit, then pulling it up and pushing in with soft but insistent motions.