Easy Mark

A downtown train screeched into the station. Beads of sweat crawled down the small of her back. The air was thick on the platform and she wondered why she bothered doing anything to her hair and face in the summer. Expensive skincare serum melted off her face. She stepped into the cool car and took a seat in a quiet corner, the perfect place to daydream on the long trek to deep Brooklyn. "Fucking Brooklyn," she thought.

Her oldest friend, Liz, would be signing copies of her latest book. It was a mandatory excursion. These kinds of events should be behind her, she thought. Here in their 30s, friends' book signings should be at the Upper West Side Barnes and Noble, not some hole-in-the-wall hipster joint in Brooklyn called Das Books. She pulled a mirror from her shoulder bag and admitted to herself that she looked good tonight. She'd perfected her makeup over the years: not too much, not too little. Dark eyebrows arched perfectly over hazel eyes, just a hint of sun-kissed skin that was somehow porcelain in winter and olive in summer. She knew it could be worse. And she liked her body today. Her big tits, which often felt heavy, felt only ample and attractive. She felt shapely and sexy. She wanted the man across from her to notice her nipples straining through her top. She considered letting down her long hair, but it was still so warm. Instead, she crossed her legs, letting her short skirt ride up a little to give the man a little peek.

With that, the usual frustration crept in. Where was he? Where was her man? She was such a New York City stereotype: great job, smart, funny, considered beautiful by many, if not herself. She'd examined the "why" of it often enough over the years and didn't find a good answer. She simply hadn't found him. And tonight was no good. She knew the crowd at these events: sexless Brooklyn boys in glasses, at least one in a stupid hat. She had nothing against a nerdy vibe, but she needed to sense a man inside, too, something strong, hungry, and virile. She wanted a man with whom she could express the fullness of her sexuality, a man who would eat her pussy with the same sweetness and enthusiasm with which he'd dominate her afterward. The train car bounced and rattled and she started getting wet.

Outside the Brooklyn station, above ground, the sun was setting. The air still felt more solid than gas. She stopped worrying about the possibility of frizzy hair and melting makeup. The sexless nerds wouldn't care. Inside the shop, the usual suspects mingled. At least Das Books sprang for good air conditioning. Maybe too good; the rapid shift in temperature made her nipples harden as goosebumps erupted on her arms. She rubbed them, looking around for a familiar face.

"You can't possibly be cold."

She turned, startled. The face that looked back was open, friendly, and very masculine. He was just tall enough to make her feel short, no easy feat at 5'8".

Out of instinct, she recoiled. These days, it seemed only weirdos approached women so brazenly. Everyone else hid behind the anonymity of dating apps. But why was she assuming his intentions were romantic? She sized him up quickly: soft coral t-shirt, a brown beard with flecks of red (not too long and not too tidy), glinting green eyes, a swoop of brown hair in a modern cut; well, he didn't look like a weirdo.

She laughed, "Not cold exactly. My body just gets so confused in the summer. So hot outside, so cold inside."

"Are you a winter girl, then?"

"I can find something to love about any season."

"I feel the same way."

There was a pause before he swallowed and said, "It's Victoria, right? You don't remember me, do you?" She realized that he did look familiar. Strange that it took her this long to notice - she was normally good with faces.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I don't think I do!"

He laughed good-naturedly. "No, please don't worry, I wouldn't have expected you to. We met like three years ago at a Mets game, I'm Liz's cousin."

"Yes! Oh my gosh! You were in from out of town visiting your girlfriend." The memory slid into place: she had clocked him immediately at that baseball game, but he was so handsome, so her type, and so clearly in love with his date that she had forced herself to completely ignore his existence for the entirety of the evening.

"Is it... Matt?" She winced, unsure.

"So close. It's Mark."

"Mark! Right, of course. And your girlfriend is Celeste."

He smiled. "Right and wrong. Her name is Celeste, but she's not my girlfriend anymore."

She feigned indifference. "Ah, I see."

"Yeah, and I live here in New York now."

Now we're entering "too good to be true" territory, she thought. "Oh wow! That's great. How long-"

Someone clapped loudly and instructed everyone to take a seat. Mark extended a gentlemanly hand and they sat together near the back. She felt an electric jolt as his thigh made contact with hers in the narrow seats.

He turned and grinned at her, whispering, "So be honest, have you read the book yet?"

"Of course I have..."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Victoria giggled as Liz entered to polite applause. The truth was, she didn't care for Liz's writing. This was her second collection of essays and she found them at best too self-serious and at worst preachy and condescending.

She barely listened as Liz began to read. Her heart beat faster the longer she sat next to this beautiful man. She stole a glance and found him dutifully attentive, a mild and pleasant look on his face. Her eyes lingered to take in the shape of his lips. She knew he would be a good kisser. If it came to that.

Doubt flooded in. What she interpreted earlier as flirting probably wasn't. He was just being polite and needed someone to talk to since he'd come alone. She was too busty, too curvy, too old. She remembered the ex-girlfriend Celeste. She was in her 20s and somehow both thin and willowy and well-endowed in the ass department: not only an undeniably beautiful face but a perfect Instagram body. Victoria knew she should be wiser than this and should have evolved past these comparisons. She knew she should commit to cherishing her own beauty and worth. She often succeeded. But precisely when confidence was called for, the old demons crept back in.

She closed her eyes briefly and tried to channel the feeling she had on the train. As she took her hair down from its clip, she hoped Mark would notice the smell of her shampoo. She smoothed her hair to the side and crossed her legs in his direction. He shifted in his seat. "Worth a try." She thought. Was it her imagination or was there suddenly more pressure from his thigh? She gave up listening to Liz and tried to imagine his cock. It had to be gorgeous. Probably not huge, but just right. Straight. Hard. Fuck. Her mouth watered.

Finally, the reading ended and a small crowd of people started to line up for the signing. Trying again to play it cool, Victoria turned to Mark and excused herself to get a glass of wine at the refreshment table.

"I'll join you," he said.

She didn't even want any wine. It was cheap shit, a Chardonnay and a Cab, but she needed something to do with her hands.

They fell into an easy flirtation again. The demons of doubt had ebbed away again under his gaze. They laughed about the terrible wine and played an informal game of "Who Wore It Best?" when they noticed two of the sexless Brooklyn nerds wearing almost identical outfits.

Finally, the line dwindled and Liz bounced over. "Oh good, you found each other!" she said. "I was worried about you both coming alone since Tom wasn't here." Tom was her husband. Victoria tried to keep her face neutral. She couldn't have missed Tom's presence less. "I have to go chat with my agent but then let's get a drink or something? I'm starving!" She bounced away again and Mark and Victoria looked at each other.

"You can't stand him either, can you?" he asked.

"Oh God, you could tell?"

"Yes, but don't worry, Liz would never have noticed. I just like to study faces."

"Oh yeah?" She felt the wine infusing her with confidence. "What else is my face telling you?"

He studied her face in mock seriousness. "The subject is... highly intelligent, a little guarded, and very pretty."

Her face flushed but she was in the flow of flirtation now and didn't miss a beat. "Okay mister, not bad, not bad. My turn." She squinted at him and pretended to adjust a pair of imaginary glasses. "Subject is... kind but a little cocky. Subject definitely has a skin care regimen. Subject is most likely a great kisser." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She laughed and covered her face, embarrassed. "Oh, God. It's the wine!"

"Mmmm, no, I think you just find me irresistible," he said, puffing up his chest.

"Pffft, I can resist you."

He looked her straight in the eyes, suddenly serious, and the whole room seemed to disappear. "No, you can't."

Before she could even begin to gather her thoughts, Liz was back and blabbing about where they should go. She and Mark discussed their bar options while Victoria reeled. "So that's it," she thought. "He's a fuck boy dirt bag. He'll hurt me. I'll sleep with him and imagine it could be something but it will just be a fuck for him and I will wind up heartbroken." The inevitability of it suffocated her. It wasn't like she wouldn't sleep with him if she could. He was handsome and funny and she longed to be touched and desired. "Shit," she thought.

"Victoria? Is that okay with you?" Liz looked at her quizzically. "What? Oh yeah, totally."

"Okay cool, it's just another couple blocks. You think the kitchen will still be open? Probably, right?" Liz led the way, phone in hand.

Mark hung back and grinned at Victoria, cool as a cucumber. "So, you're in graphic design, right?"

"Wow, yeah, how did you know?"

"I remember it coming up at that Mets game. And you were dating someone new I think. How's that going?"

She couldn't believe he'd heard anything she said back then, much less remembered it. "Oh God, whoever it was, it didn't last." He made a noncommittal "mmm" sound and let silence fall. She sputtered, "so how long have you been in New York?"

"Two years now, I think? I moved here to be with Celeste, but it unraveled pretty quickly."

"Sorry to hear that," she said, not sorry at all. "So how come we haven't hung out until now, then? How'd you wrangle out of the other book events?"

"Well, I can't fucking stand Tom and until recently I worked in a restaurant so, easy to avoid."

Liz had stopped in front of a brightly lit doorway. "You guys coming?"

Inside, the bar was dark and obnoxiously romantic. It was irrational, but this made Victoria irritated with Liz. Mark ordered a bourbon, neat, which seemed to Victoria a little too on-the-nose. Was he her perfect man? She ordered an Old Fashioned. They sipped slowly while Liz chugged wine and prattled on about herself, characteristically oblivious to what was unfolding right in front of her.

When she finally went to the restroom, Mark seized the opportunity. He leaned in close, his face in her hair where it fell over her ear. "So how can I get you alone?"

She breathed, "Good question"

His hand seared her bare thigh where it rested. "Quick, put your number in my phone." She typed it in and handed the phone back, feeling a thrill when their fingers touched. He showed her his screen as he typed "Girl I'm Into" as her contact name. God, he was smooth as fuck.

Frustratingly, Liz ordered another round when she got back. As the fresh drinks arrived, Victoria felt her phone buzz.

"Let's meet at Hive Mind, corner of Nostrand and Lefferts. You say goodnight to Liz first, I'll meet you there."

She waited a couple of minutes and then typed, "Aye aye captain." After what felt like hours, they had all finished the last of their drinks. Victoria yawned. "I have to get going, long journey back to Manhattan."

Liz rolled her eyes, "I don't understand why you won't just move to Brooklyn."

"I know you don't, Lizzy." She wrapped her in a big hug, her mood so elevated that her previous annoyance with Liz was forgotten. "Congratulations. Love you." She turned to Mark and gave him the universal "Should we hug? Let's hug!" gesture. "So great to see you again Mark."

"Yeah, likewise!" Her pussy throbbed as their bodies touched. He smelled incredible. She pulled away and jogged out of the bar, afraid she might cum right there if she didn't put some distance between them.

She was happy he'd given her the chance to arrive at the bar first. She went straight to the restroom to take stock of her appearance. Her face had an attractive flush, some smudged mascara, and hair that needed a little refreshing. But overall, she looked good. She felt good. Exhilarated. Her phone buzzed. "Be there in ten" he said. She took a deep breath. Hive Mind had a back patio and it finally seemed cool enough to be outdoors this late into the evening. She found a charming spot in the back corner with tree branches hanging over a small outdoor couch. Perfect. She sipped some water and let her mind wander. Those lips, that solid body, his masculine hands. She wondered what kind of kinks he had. She sensed (or hoped?) that he was on the dominant side. Pain wasn't her thing, but a little -

He strolled onto the patio, the picture of relaxation, his face breaking into a wide grin as he caught her eye. "Perfect spot," he said. She shifted, not uncomfortable exactly, but too aware of her body and unsure how to arrange it.

"And we're drinking....?"

"Water at the moment," she answered, "I felt like I should pace myself."

"Probably wise," he said with an exaggerated nod. "May I?" He sipped her water. She felt herself go silent. She couldn't think of anything to say as she watched his lips on the rim of her glass, where her lips had just been.

He chuckled and put down the glass. "I hope I didn't make you feel any pressure to come out. I come on a little strong when I'm nervous."

Her brow furrowed in surprise. "You're nervous? Why? I'm the nervous one!"

"Of course I am! Pretty girl, unexpected date... I'm only human. And I have a confession to make." She smiled, so much more at ease with this unexpected vulnerability. "I've been stalking your social media ever since that baseball game."

She was floored. "You have? God, I would have been more careful about what I posted."

He laughed, "No, I really like the Victoria on social media."

"Uh oh. So you're coming in with expectations. I'm only human too, and very careful about my selfie angles."

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Whatever angle this is, I'm liking it."

She smiled. "Likewise. I guess this is what I get for keeping my Instagram public."

"Yup, very easy for creeps like me to develop a pretty serious crush."

Her stomach flipped and rolled. He moved in close and put his hand on her thigh, nestling his face next to her ear again. "Something other than water?" he whispered.

"Yes. Surprise me." She expected him to stand, but suddenly he kissed her. It took a moment to register. It was soft and short but made her whole body tingle.

"Surprise," he said. He stood up and walked toward the bar.

Her thoughts ran wild. Fuck boy, right? He must be. He's not nervous, he's too smooth to be nervous. "I'm being manipulated," she thought, even as her clit throbbed, her body telling her brain that they were past the point of no return. More thoughts came fast and fierce: "He must think my body is better than it is. He won't like my tits when they're not being held in this bra. The cellulite on my ass will turn him off. Maybe he will like fucking me but he won't call again afterward. Should I have sex with him? Maybe I shouldn't. How can I make him fall in love with me? Do I play it cool or do I act relaxed and game?"

She took a deep breath and looked around. Couples and small groups of friends were chatting happily. Everything had a soft glow. She smelled something vague and floral, maybe lilacs, and tried to quiet her unrelenting mind. No answer would come now. She wouldn't solve the mysteries of sex and love by the time he got back from the bar. All she ever really wanted was peace in her life, peace within herself. Maybe the best she could do was to be in the moment.

He walked toward her with drinks in hand as she made a silent resolution. "I will be fully in this moment." He set the drinks down. They looked like bourbon cocktails of some kind. Of course, he had paid attention.

"You look thoughtful," he purred.

"Just deeply enjoying the moment," she said. They toasted each other and fell into relaxed conversation. She took in all the parts of his face she hadn't noticed at first: a small scar on his left temple, imperfect bottom teeth, a spot under his chin that he seemed to have missed shaving. At some point, they circled back to Tom and Liz. Loose from bourbon and nerves, Victoria said, "So they have to have totally weird sex, right?"

"Oh God, I don't know if I can go there. We have the same grandma."

She laughed, "Sorry, sorry. But come on, I know you agree."

He sighed, amused. "I mean, I would guess they rarely have sex at all, and when they do, it's like that scene in Spanglish where Tea Leoni fucks Adam Sandler as if he isn't there at all. You know the one?"

"No, but somehow I'm still grossed out," she laughed. "So bleak. I'd almost prefer it if they had some unusual kinks, but I think you're probably right."

"Absolutely," he said, "I respect a person with kinks."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"Mmm, too bad, I don't have any," she said with mock seriousness.

"I find that extremely hard to believe."

"Why's that?"

"You have a strong sexuality, it's very obvious."

"I mean, you're not wrong. But I'm a little surprised it's that obvious."

"Maybe not obvious to everyone. Obvious to me. Out with it, what are you into?"

She swallowed. Hold back or go all in?

She gave him what she hoped was her sexiest look. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Fuck," he whispered, taking her head between his hands and kissing her deeply this time. She answered with all of the enthusiasm and lust she felt. He broke away but their bodies stayed in contact, one hand resting on her thigh and the other playing with a piece of her hair and considering her face. "Okay, I'll go easy on you. Start with telling me what you're most attracted to."

"Mmm," she cooed, "gorgeous, funny men in coral t-shirts?"

"You won't get out of this by flirting."

"Fine, fine. I think I'm drawn to that same sexual x-factor. When I can sense that someone really loves sex and pleasure and wants to be present for it. And I love a man's shoulders and chest." She paused.

"Something else?" He stroked her thigh gently.

"And hair that I can imagine my fingers in while his head is between my legs."

"Jesus Christ," he breathed.

"Too far?"

"Not at all, I'm just so turned on by you."

"Same here," she said. Then they were kissing again. Making out, really. Aware of the other people around them but beyond caring.

He broke contact. "You want to be dominated." It was a statement, not a question. Ugh, she knew it. Here it was. This was all about fucking, there was no connection, nothing spiritual or loving. He saw her as an easy fuck and wanted to act out some kind of trite Fifty Shades bullshit. He saw her hesitating. "I'm sorry," he said. "I think I'm right, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She looked down at her hands and then back up at him. "No, you're right. Yes. But in specific ways and under specific circumstances."

"Of course," he said. "Listen. I'm sure you don't know whether you can trust me. I'm not sure I can trust you, either. But I just have this feeling there's compatibility here and I'm aching to explore it. If we say goodnight now, I'll still want to see you again. And hopefully, we can go out again and work our way back up to our deepest sexual fantasies."