Color Me Your Color

I wouldn't be stupid. I would be strong, and when it was over, the only thing I'd walk away with was money. That was fine; that was why I was doing all of this, after all.

******

I noticed I had a voicemail from my mother when I got back. I prepared myself and called back, hoping she bought the false cheer in my voice.

"You sound great, honey. How's the waitressing job?"

So, she bought it.

"Fine, Mom. I'm working tomorrow night."

"Do you need me to send you any money, Johanna? I can't believe you're making rent."

"I am. Please don't worry." I could hear start to say something else, so I quickly changed the subject. "How's Becky?"

My mother sighed and I could just picture her in her little apartment in the suburbs, a nearly burnt out cigarette dangling from her fingers. She claimed she quit, but I always spotted the butts in the trash when I visited. She was only forty-five, but the last time I saw her she looked about ten years older. There were roots in her blonde hair that she used to meticulously take care of, her eyes looked sunken-in and tired, and her body was so skinny I was afraid to hug her. She was still beautiful to me, but now she was just a sad shadow of herself.

Divorce and my dad will do that to you.

"Becky's pregnant again. You're going to be an aunt for the fifth time."

My heart sank. Becky and her loser husband had no money to speak of, yet they reproduced without thinking twice. I didn't even get it; they hated one another. Their poor kids didn't have a chance in my opinion.

"Mom, you're kidding."

Mom sighed again. "I wish I was. She's being intolerable."

"Need me to come visit?"

"No, no. You keep living the glam life, honey. You deserve it."

I hated it when she said that. There was nothing glamorous about my life. I wanted to take the train home and crawl up onto her lap and weep. I wanted to tell her about how my life had taken a horrible left somewhere and I was so lost, swallowed up in a city I didn't belong in, wearing clothes that were tattered and ancient. I wanted to tell her about Tate, even though she would be disappointed in me. Most of all I wanted her to tell me it was going to be all right and that she was going to take care of me.

Mom could hardly take care of herself after my dad obliterated her. I was twenty-five, now. It seemed like it was time for me to be responsible. I'd also lied to her for so long about how things were going. I couldn't expect her to be happy about that.

"Your dad called me last night," she said. I heard how hard she was working to keep the hatred out of her tone.

"What? Why?"

"You probably have an idea, Jo."

The six voicemails from him left unheard on my phone certainly gave me an idea. "No, I really don't. I'm sorry he's bothering you."

"Oh, I'm used to him," she sniffed. "He said you haven't been calling him back. How come?"

"Because I hate him."

My mother sighed for the third time. I could hear her take a big puff of air—of cigarette, more like—and exhale it out as if it would give her the patience to deal with the harshness of life. She'd been so sheltered for so long when she was married to my dad. I wondered if being a mother, an independent woman, and an individual was like jumping into ice water for her.

"You don't hate him. You're angry with him."

I touched some of the delicate underwear I'd bought earlier. "No, I'm pretty sure I hate him."

"Fine," she exhaled, "well, while you're hating him, can you please give him a call? You know he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

"What the hell does he want?"

"He must want to check up on you," my mom decided.

I laughed bitterly. "Mom. Please. We haven't spoken in nearly a year."

"Maybe he wants to apologize."

In spite of everything, Mom couldn't allow herself to see the ugly inside of him. I guessed she really loved him. It was too tragic for me to think about.

"Mom, I love you. I have to go to bed."

"Okay. Love you, too. And Johanna? Please call your dad, okay? Promise me you will."

"Mom..."

"I have enough to worry about right now, Jo. Please do this for me."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay. I'll call him back."

"That's my girl. Talk to you soon."

We hung up and I toyed with my cell a while before I reluctantly dialed his number. My mother's one true power was getting people to make a promise. Well, getting most people to make a promise. It didn't stick with Dad.

He answered right away, as I knew he would.

"Johanna." His voice was crisp but polite. He must have been out somewhere in public with his so-called friends slash associates

."Mom said you called her."

"I thought you might be living there," he explained stiffly. "I didn't know you were living in the city."

"What's up, Dad?" I tried to sound as casual as possible.

"I wanted to see how you were. It's been a long time."

Snickering into the phone, I plopped down on my bed. "You've got to me kidding me."

"I know you're very angry with me still, and I understand why, but I'm still your father and..."

"Dad, I've got to go. Did you need something?" I knew he did. It would have been wonderful to have a father who called to actually patch things up, to see how I was, to ask me to dinner some night and share his new life with me. It wouldn't have undone all the bad shit, but I would have forgiven a father like that eventually.

Problem was I didn't have a father like that. My dad constantly had an agenda.

"You're behaving so immaturely, Johanna. I thought we could have a conversation like two adults but..."

"Okay, it's been real," I said, cutting him off, "but I've got to get to bed. Talk to you in another year. Goodnight."

"Are you seeing Tate Miller?" he blurted out. There was a hint of anger in his voice that made me shudder.

So much for all my bravado. I was so caught up in his tone he took me a few minutes to identify the name he used. Horror and panic bubbled in my blood.

"Excuse me?" I meant to make my question sound more outraged. I sounded very much like a guilty teenager, instead.

"I work with him, Johanna. Don't dick around at my place of business just so you can have some sort of petty revenge."

Disastrous fear settled in my stomach. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure. Give me a break. He noticed your face in my family picture today and laughed, saying he knew you. I know the guy, Johanna, and I know what the hell that means!"

A terrible suspicion began to gnaw at me. What if my father was like Tate, out sniffing around for young and desperate girls?

"I assure you I don't know anyone named Tate." Some strength returned to my voice, but the damage was done.

My father clicked off, leaving me with silence.

*****

The phone barely rang. "Johanna," he answered. "Good to hear from you."

"Hi, Tate." My voice was nervous. "Um, I spoke with my father today."

"That's a strange conversation starter." He laughed loudly into the phone and I knew he was fucking with me.

"You know him, don't you. You work with him. Fucking fabulous."

"Don't worry, little girl, I won't tell."

"You don't need to tell, you idiot." I was so fired up I didn't even have the patience to be scared of him. "You have no idea how fucking smart my dad is. He took one look at your shit-eating grin when you noticed me in his photo and knew. He's been calling me all day."

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "His suspicions don't prove anything. At the very most, he'll think we're just dating."

"He'll be a pain in the ass to you at work."

I could hear the smile in Tate's voice. "Nice of you to worry about me but I think I have your dad under control. He doesn't intimidate me."

I breathed for the first time since my mother told me my dad was looking for me. "Okay. If you really think it won't bother you."

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about yourself? What if he investigates? Finds out what you do?"

Part of me would fucking love that, but another part of me shrieked inside. "I'll worry about that if and when it happens. You worry about not being a smug dick at work."

"Hmm, so you have a personality after all."

"When pissed off, yeah."

"Good. I promise you your dad won't bother me. And I promise to piss you off more often."

"Har-har." I caught my expression in the mirror hanging over my dresser. I was flushed and smiling. Unbelievable.

"Tomorrow is the gala, I hope you remember. I'll be by your shit-hole apartment around eight. Better be ready." He hung up before I could say anything.

Unfortunately I had completely forgotten about our plans and ran around the rest of the night, grooming, plucking and lotioning. Morgan brought out a delicate white dress for me to wear.

"It's yours," she said when I came out the next night, twirling around in our tiny living room. "You can keep it. It suits you better."

"Morgan..." I knew it had to cost a fortune. It was simple, with graceful straps and a generous but classy viewing of cleavage. I loved it because I didn't feel at all like a bought-for kind of girl in it. I felt like a princess, which was clearly very dangerous under the circumstances. When I thought more about it, I was surprised she wasn't warning me about remembering my boundaries again.

That's when I noticed she looked weird. "Morgan, are you okay?"

She smiled weakly at me and rubbed her forehead. "No. Not really. But I will be." She sat up straighter and tossed me a wide grin. "I always am."

"Look, if you..."

The buzzer interrupted me. Morgan hopped up and ran to the door to avoid my eyes. Tate entered the room; everything felt like it was too much. Morgan picked up some of her books and made a show of yawning.

"Have fun tonight, guys."

Tate looked away from me to give her a small, affectionate smile. Without looking at me, he placed his arm around me and his warm hand made contact with my cool shoulder. He squeezed and then ran his hand down until it finally met my own. He tangled our fingers together, said goodnight to Morgan, and pulled me out into the cold night.

I expected him to be as coldly polite and distant as ever, but he surprised me once we were all cozy inside his limo.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"A sister. Rebecca. Becky."

"You two close?"

I smiled thinking of her. "She's a really big pain in the ass, actually. We're not close at all but she has kids and they're really cute."

Tate's hand ran up my thigh. I hadn't known I'd been craving that touch, but once he gave it to me I came apart like melted butter. He seemed amused, which ticked me off, but I was too caught up reveling in the sensations his hand touching me caused. His other hand caressed the necklace he bought me. His fingertips gently ran over my collarbone, which was one of my hot-spots.

"Why aren't you close? And it is okay if I touch you?"

"Yes."

He situated his hand between my thighs. It wasn't very close to my pussy at all, but I could feel its nearness against my flesh as sure as if it had been.

I licked my lips. "It's a long story. What about you? Any siblings? Are you close with them?"

"Yes. And yes. My family is the most important thing to me, actually." I hadn't expected him to answer that way. He caught me off guard, and he knew it. He leaned over and kissed me for a few delicious minutes. I loved the way his lips pressed against my own, how his tongue felt on mine, the taste and smell of him as we consumed each other. He pulled away, and with strangely sad eyes he took my hand. "Why aren't you close with your family? And what is the deal with your dad?"

We pulled up then, of course. Andrew opened the car door and Tate stared at me, waiting for me to answer. I should have been pissed off that he was poking and prodding me, that he was acting like he cared, but it touched me. Still, I wasn't ready to answer, so I rushed out of the car.

It was cold enough to take my mind off of what just happened, and I was doubly distracted by the glamorous people exiting other limos. Tate took my hand and brought me toward the hall. It was large and welcoming, and once we walked through the doors, delightfully warm. We didn't speak to each other as we navigated through the crowd and found our table. The other seats were already filled up with older couples. A server took our drink order, and then we were silent.

Some of the men at the table knew Tate and engaged him in conversation. The women all seemed to know one another, too, and made little effort to speak to me. It was strange; normally I'd mind being so clearly looked over, but sitting next to Tate and having his leg occasionally brush against my own gave me a confidence I'd never known.

When the food came, Tate put his mouth to my ear. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to bring up your family."

I pulled away to look at him and gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, you did. You're always testing me."

His eyes ran down my body and back up again. "You call it "testing", I call it getting myself acquainted with someone."

"That's how you get acquainted with someone?" The wives at the table were all leaning in, trying to be inconspicuous as they eavesdropped.

"Among other ways," he said casually. His hand suddenly pushed between my legs and cupped my pussy. I gasped and jumped, knocking my knee into the table.

The man beside me looked over. "Everything alright?"

"Y-yes. I just got a chill. Sorry to bother you."

He looked over my head to glance at Tate before turning back to his meal. Tate thankfully pulled away with a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

"Dick," I mumbled. Then I noticed something peeking out of the end of his sleeve. "What's that?"

Tate's gaze followed my own. "Oh, a tattoo. Want to see?" He pulled the sleeve back and presented it to me. It was a snake.

"You have a snake tattoo," I stated numbly. I didn't know what else to say. What could the significance be? It had to mean something, I thought, but I wasn't sure what.

"I do." He returned to eating, but he watched me from the corner of his eye. "Does that bother you?"

"No, it's just... a snake?" I sipped my wine and tried not to completely freak out.

"A snake got me once, when I was a kid. Fourteen, or so. I almost died. Changed my life forever. Before, I was a bit of a puny kid. Cried a lot." He glared playfully when he heard me giggle. "Laugh it up. I was weak. My parents had divorced, I was stricken with a massive case of acne, kids bullied me like crazy and I just cried about it instead of doing something about it. So, one day a snake got me in the backyard. I remember just staring at it in a daze. A neighbor found me nearly passed out and rushed me to the hospital. I don't remember all of it, but I remember being terrified I was going to die. I was a different kid after. Punched back at the bullies, asked my doctor for a cream for my face, started getting lucky with the ladies..." he trailed off with a charming smile.

"Interesting," I said, but inside I was a mess of tumultuous and confused feelings. His story didn't have to mean anything, but it did. It meant a lot to me, and not even just because of my dream.

He studied me carefully and then nudged my shoulder with his own. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "Right, that's why you're completely white."

"You'll think I'm crazy." He opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly interrupted him. "Don't! Don't say it. I know you think I'm crazy."

"I was going to say that I didn't think you were crazy, Ms. Paranoid. What freaked you out?"

I bit my lip and tried to avoid his searching gaze, but it was no use. I couldn't ignore him. "Fine. I had a nightmare about snakes, okay? It doesn't mean anything, but I just thought it was strange when I saw your tattoo."

His expression was unreadable. "Dreaming of snakes is pretty common. I had a dream I was naked last night."

I finished my glass of wine and looked at the server for another. "In public? I've never had that dream."

"No. Not in public."

Tate's fingers rubbed against my silky panties. I shut my eyes when I felt one of his fingers run over my clit.

"Stop," I whispered.

"I should, right? You probably get pretty loud... You were loud in my dream."

"Tate!"

I heard him snicker but he kept his hand right where it was, growing bolder every second. He had one finger curled around the edge of my panties, sliding through my cream.

His lips kissed the shell of my ear. Then he whispered hotly against me, "Meet me outside, in the back."

Tate expertly removed his hand and then stood, disappearing somewhere in the dark edges of the room. I wasn't even sure where he meant for me to go, but I got up a minute later to follow as if I were hypnotized. I pushed open a door I saw in the grand hall. It opened out into a little patio filled with trees covered in lights. I stepped onto some dry leaves, shuddering in the crisp air.

And then I felt him behind me. He hadn't even touched me yet and I just knew. One of his hands slipped through my hair and then ran down my back. He clutched my ass desperately, and then he slid his hand around to grab my hip. He used his hold to tug me closer to him; my back fell against his chest. His other hand snaked over the front of my body, lewdly plucking my nipples through the thin material of the dress and then finally clawing at the material until he had it hiked up. His hand, now chilled by the night, plunged between my thighs. He quickly tore down my panties so that he had room to play around.

He took my breath away when he eagerly dug inside of me with two fingers. Another gingerly probed at my clit.

"Tate," I breathed. I sounded afraid.

I wanted to tell him I wasn't like this, I didn't do things like this with men I hardly knew, that this was too soon, that maybe we should wait. I also wanted to beg him to keep going, to plead with him for something, anything.

His breathing had turned to wild panting against the back of my neck. "Yes?"

The words I wanted to say fled from my mind because he used my silence to slip in another finger. His other hand came around to pay full attention to my clit.

Just like that, all the tension disappeared. Every cell of my body released as I came in a great but quiet explosion. I trembled against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against my shaking ass.

When I was done and he had enough of tormenting me, I pushed my dress down and spun around. He had his mouth open, probably prepared to give me his next command, but I had a chance for control in that one second. And I took it.

I knelt on the uncomfortable patio, and with shaking but quick hands I had his cock out and in my mouth before he could say my name.

For a moment, he had no reaction. I licked and sucked, slowly urging him down my throat. My eyes slid up to his and I stared at him through my lashes. His expression was completely frozen; if I hadn't been so high on orgasming, I would have been afraid of him. He looked furious. Forbidding.

With his cock leaking pre-cum against my tongue, I didn't care.

And then he let out a heavy, shaking breath. His hands rested against my cheeks and he caressed my face. I closed my eyes, indulging in the sensation.

"We have to be fast," he groaned. "Someone... someone might come out."

I murmured something against his cock and he gasped. His hands quickly found their home in my hair. He pulled on it hard, bringing tears to my eyes.

His dark eyes bore into my own. "Fast. Suck me fast. Make me come."

I worked harder than I thought possible. I loved the sensation and taste of his head running against the surface of my tongue. I loved it more when the sponginess settled deeper in my throat. I couldn't breathe, and it was uncomfortable, but looking up into Tate's eyes made it so hot. I knew he was hard, was panting, was desperate to come because of me. And that power was so unbelievably wonderful, and I felt wetter than I did before. I wanted him inside of me; none of my other bullshit fears mattered. It didn't matter that I didn't "do this sort of thing" usually. All that mattered was pleasing Tate.