Entrapment

Thanks for reading my Valentine's Day 2023 entry! Enjoy, and please don't forget to vote!

Entrapment

Ben watched her enter the restaurant, the host making the most of his short time with her by walking slowly and taking the long route to her table, proudly showing the room the gorgeous thing that had wandered into their establishment. The golden light of the restaurant made her skin glow softly, the candles on the tables giving a dark, liquid sparkle to her eyes as she shyly laughed at his flirting.

She glanced uncertainly over her shoulder as the host helped her with her chair. Ben felt a twinge of annoyance. This lovely creature wasn't accustomed to being helped or attended to properly. His father had always told him that the most important thing a man could do was to take good care of the women in his life... because if you didn't, they would start taking care of themselves, and nothing good comes from that.

Ben had nothing against women being independent, though. Far from it. The best women he had ever known were strong, smart and brave enough to put worthless men to shame. Those women knew their worth. This lovely girl, dressed to the nines and sitting alone at the table across the room didn't know her worth. Some idiot had arranged to meet her here at Harlequin's on Valentine's Day, instead of picking her up and using every moment possible to convince her of his desire to see her pleased in his care. No one went to her door with flowers, gave her his arm as he walked her to his freshly-cleaned car, opened the door for her, and gently held her hand as she negotiated her way into the carseat with those delicate, strappy heels she wore. No one melted inside at her soft grateful glances with each of these simple courtesies.

No. Some moron just gave her a name of a fashionable hotel restaurant and a time, then left her to figure out reservations and google the address for Uber, or worse he left her to drive into the city on her own, park in a dim garage, and walk through God knows what on the street, getting rude offers from the locals. Then, she walked into the restaurant alone, feeling hunted, stressed and self-conscious, and unsure of what to feel about a man that simply wants the privilege of helping her with her chair. The moron with the privilege of looking into this girl's eyes all night missed the chance to hold her chair, to catch that grateful blush of hers, and casually brush his hand over her shoulders wrapped in that silky dress that she wore just for him on Valentine's Day. What a waste. Some fool could have been in love, by now.

Not that he was an expert in love, Ben thought ruefully, rolling the ice in his glass through the amber liquid. Times had changed since his father's day. When he was younger, Ben's work brought him in contact with a number of single women, but so many of them had suspicion plainly written across their faces, caution in their voices. Women raised on stories of people who let men into their houses and they ended up raped or dead. He did his best to put them at ease about being alone with his big-shouldered frame and forgettable face, tried to show them his good nature in a way that didn't push too hard. Most of them still filmed him and demanded verification of his identity from the home office before they allowed him inside. He understood why they did it, didn't hold a grudge. It's what happens when women were left to take care of themselves. Men were left feeling like criminals, and the women were stressed or scared. None of it lent itself toward romance.

Now, instead of meeting people in a natural way, everyone was stuck with computers that made us boil down our souls into profiles that turned people into products... a list of qualities and desires that looked like unappetizing menus. Then, if you were lucky, you went on an unending string of first dates that wore you out and left you emptied of cash and faith in humanity. Date after date where you meet up with someone once and feel nothing but vague disappointment... because love isn't an equation to be solved. It was a feeling. Love was a seed planted in experiences that we don't allow ourselves anymore... out of caution, out of bad stories, out of any number of things that have nothing to do with two people having a common love of museums, or hiking the Appalachian trail or any of those other check-boxes they use to make you quantify yourself. You don't need all your hobbies to match, for God's sake. If you love someone, you'll love going to the grocery store with them, and you'll do that a lot more than you'll do that other stuff. The right person turned even the most menial tasks into an experience.

From the bar, Ben's eyes drifted over toward the woman again, casually taking her in before moving on to the loved-up couples filling the room. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable by staring, but if she were his, he would be hard-pressed to take his eyes off her. Shimmering, soft-looking hair that caught the light as she turned her head hopefully toward the entrance as another couple walked in. She chewed her plump lower lip, as her large eyes wandered around the room. Ben glanced down at his phone to see the time. What could possibly be keeping the guy? The jerk had kept her waiting alone in a room full of romance. Had he even thought about how that would make her feel? Quietly seething, Ben turned back toward the bar, telling himself to mind his own business.

"Tits at table five wants a negroni..." a waiter said to the bartender, nodding to where she sat.

"Hey... come on, man," Ben said, frowning at the server. "Don't do that..." The server mumbled an apology, then rolled his eyes at the bartender when he thought Ben couldn't see.

A negroni... smooth and sweet, Ben thought, watching the bartender mix the gin, sweet vermouth and Campari that would soon be graced by the touch of her lips. With an expert twist, the bartender exacted a perfect corkscrew orange peel garnish that would tickle her nose with a hint of citrus as she sipped the charming cocktail. If he were at her side, he'd order a Hanky Panky just to see her giggle at the name... maybe tease her into trying it and see if she liked it. Ben sighed and looked over at her again, his mind filling with food he wanted to order and have her steal off his plate, just to see what kind of tastes made those dimples on her cheeks come out. God, she was adorable.

Her eyes flickered and she sat up, quickly digging into her handbag and fishing out her phone. The phone screen lit, just long enough to let him see her face fall slightly. Son of a bitch. The guy hadn't even called her. Just a text. Why? Why do such amazing women give themselves to complete losers?

Nearing his breaking point, Ben signaled the bartender for his check, paid, and quickly left the room. He didn't know what to do with himself, but he just couldn't sit there watching anymore. He stalked out and paced around the hotel lobby until he found himself in the elevator bay and jabbed the up button with his thumb, figuring he would go change and work out his frustration in the fitness center. An elevator opened its doors with a "ding" and Ben walked in at the same time a pair of heels began to click across the elevator bay tiles. "Oh! Could you hold it please?" a woman's breathy voice called out.

Ben had already put his arm out to stop the closing doors until he felt them open again, revealing the shimmering hair, silky dress, large eyes and cheeky smile of the angel that had been sitting across the restaurant. "Thank you," she smiled, brushing his arm as she entered the elevator. A familiar floral scent followed her, drifting into his mind and evoking vague memories of innocence and wonder. Ben frowned at the floor, trying to recall the name of the flower as he stepped back to give her room. She stayed where she was, rather than moving to the opposite side of the lift, giving him only a limited space to retreat. "Rough night?" she asked, tilting her head up slightly, reading his frowning face. "You got out of there in a hurry..." she mused.

"I don't know. It all... just got a little hard to watch," he said, quietly clearing his throat.

"You're not a fan of romance?" she asked, a faint smile curving her lips.

"That wasn't romance," he scoffed, "Not from where I was watching."

She nodded at the elevator doors, lips pursed slightly. "Oh... let me guess. Valentine's Day... all a big corporate scam to get us to feel obligated to spend money and show feelings we don't have with words that aren't ours?" she said, looking over her shoulder to where he stood.

"Actually, I love Valentine's Day. A day dedicated to celebrating what someone is to us. If you have the right person in your life, it's a privilege like nothing else. You should never take it for granted. Problem is, most of the couples in there were looking at their phones, taking pictures of their food. Just showing off the pageantry of the day. No one was dancing. None of them simply enjoying the person they were with... just feeling the moment," Ben said, his eyes following the soft curve of her back as it slipped under dress. What would it feel like if he followed the line with his hand down to her rounded bottom? Feeling the warmth of her skin, the rise and fall of her breaths? He gave himself a mental shake and looked around the elevator, "Those weren't even the least romantic things I saw in there... and I guess I don't like waste," he finished.

"Hmm... me neither," she agreed. "My date said he had to work late, so I let them have the table. They'll text me later when he gets around to showing up. Unless you have something better to do, you should come have a drink with me on the terrace," she said, pressing the button for the 12th floor.

"Gardenias..." Ben murmured, his mind finally remembering the entrancing scent that followed her. She turned fully toward him and leaned against the elevator wall, a puzzled smirk on her face. "Um... well, yeah, if you're sure. Absolutely," he recovered, "they must have quite a view from up there..."

She turned back toward the elevator doors, her smirk still in place. "It's worth a look. You seemed to enjoy it well enough in the bar..." she replied with a wink. "I'm Elle," she said, looking up at him from under her lashes before turning back to the doors.

"Ben," he said, wishing he had a longer name, or something fascinating to say that would keep her looking at him like that longer. Long enough to make her to forget that she had a Valentine's date that wasn't him.

"Ben..." she repeated quietly and nodded. From over her shoulder, he saw her dimples peek out on her cheeks.

When the elevator opened on the 12th floor, Ben leaned forward to put his arm in front of the open doors and she smiled over her shoulder at him again. "The doors have sensors, you know," she chuckled, "They're not going to eat me."

"I like to be sure about what's important," he replied, following her out onto the terrace. A few couples were spread out over the rooftop, some enjoying the view of the river, others enjoying drinks at small tables near a band playing smooth jazz. "This is nice... I didn't know this was up here."

He offered her his arm and walked her to a quieter table, pulling out her chair for her. "Thanks," she said, sitting down with a nervous giggle. "I honestly don't think I'll ever get used to that... the chair thing, I mean."

"You should," Ben said, with more feeling than he intended. "I mean, a woman deserves it. That's how she should be treated... and for the guy... well, for the right kind of guy... you feel proud to do it," he finished, taking a seat next to her.

"But... why proud? I know some complain about it like it's some kind of oppression and others think it's just an empty polite gesture, but I've never heard anyone say it made them proud..." she said, turning her head slightly toward him from where she was watching the band.

Ben chuckled, still finding it hard to believe he was talking with her. "I can't speak for other people. Some will always find something to complain about. I guess, it makes me proud because that's who I was raised to be. I do it because I'm proud to have a chance to take care of you. Not everything old-fashioned is bad. A lot of those old rules give you a chance to show the world that you have good character."

Elle smiled and shook her head, her eyes still on the band. "You're a different kind of guy, Ben. I don't think most guys worry about showing the world their good character," she said, her eyes flickering to him, then back to the band when she realized he was watching her as she spoke.

"I think you'd be surprised. There's a lot of guys out there waiting to show the world what they're made of," he replied. She glanced over at him again and the thoughts he couldn't see behind her eyes made heat fill her face. She covered her cheeks with her hands to hide her blush, then rubbed her bare arms to cover for the gesture. Ben's mouth quirked, suspecting the truth. Despite this, he stood, drawing her eyes away from the band, and slowly removed his suit jacket. He heard her exhale softly, her eyes roaming over his body in shy appreciation, and tried not to laugh. He tried to keep fit, but it's not like he was a gym rat to drool over, Ben thought. That jerk who neglected her must neglect himself, as well.

"Oh... um... y-you don't have to do that," she stammered, when he covered her shoulders in his suit jacket, letting the warmth of his body penetrate her.

"No... I don't have to. I want to. I'm just showing you my character. I like to be sure of what's important," he said, sitting down next to her and watching the band. Elle sat back, drawing his jacket around her, her eyes watching him more than the band, now that she was safely hidden in the warm folds.

Time grew hazy in the music and the moonlight. They talked of simple things, their thoughts fitting like puzzle pieces, at times. At other times, one tossed out ideas just to provoke the other into a playful argument. With each word they melted inside, the unspoken future seeming more inevitable and impossible at the same time. Ben could see the seed of his attentions growing in her mind, her hunger for more of it. She still struggled, though. She would glow when flirting with him, then her face would fall slightly, seeming to remember the world outside the terrace. How could he help her choose?

Resolved that he couldn't let this night with her pass without giving her every chance to choose him, Ben stood again. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, offering her his hand.

Elle laughed, "Guys never want to dance, Ben," she said, fidgeting nervously with her hands in her lap. "They only tolerate it. The few that actually do want to dance end up being the ones that take your eye out with their flailing."

"That sounds like a fascinating story. Why don't you tell it to me on the dance floor?" he laughed, still offering her his hand until she bit her lips uncertainly and took it. He led her to the small dance floor near the band and took her in his arms. He noticed her eyes flicker, trying to discern where she was supposed to put her arms on his body. Ben couldn't decide whether to curse her Valentine's date for denying her the romance of a proper dance, or to thank him for being so dim. He smiled and moved her left hand up to his shoulder before taking her right hand back in his. Her eyes flickered up to his in thanks, then she looked down at his chest, a blush coloring the dimples she couldn't hide. "So, you were saying... guys don't like to dance?" he prompted.

"Well... none of the ones I've gone out with have. Of course, they weren't worried about showing the world their character, either. So, um... do you like it?" she asked, looking up to his face.

Ben smiled and said nothing, holding her and moving to the music. Their bodies brushed gently, sharing heat when they did. In time, Elle relaxed against him and rested her head on his chest. She fit him so perfectly, that he only had to lean his head down to smell the invisible gardenias hidden in the soft curls of her hair. Any man that didn't take the chance to dance with a woman had no sense at all, Ben thought, feeling her breathing against him. Choose me, Elle... choose me, his mind prayed.

He felt her head lift from his chest and he looked down to see her struggling with herself again. He steeled himself to watch their interlude come to an end, when her eyes met his. "Ben... would you kiss me?" she asked quietly.

Without a word, he leaned down and brushed his lips softly against hers, breathing in her breath, smelling gardenias and tasting the faint memory of the negroni on her lips. She moaned softly and he felt her hand on his cheek, the kiss deepening. When they opened their eyes again, he saw she was no longer struggling with herself, "Would you kiss me again... up in your room?" she whispered.

"I'll kiss you anywhere you want, Elle," he said, leading her off the dance floor and back to the elevators.

Soon after the door to his room closed, they were in each other's arms again, kissing hungrily. She stretched up to fit herself more intimately with him, her hands going to his torso, exploring. He bent down and lifted her against him, chuckling when she squeaked as her feet left the floor. He carried her across the room and lowered her next to the bed. She shivered when his hands cupped her face again, but he knew she was not cold. "I... shouldn't do this... I never do this. I just... I want you, Ben. I want you so much," she said, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

"I want you, Elle... but I don't want you to do anything you'll regret. I don't want to be--" he began, when she unzipped his pants and dropped to her knees in front of him. "Or we could just... yeah. Let's do this instead. Oh my God..." he moaned, his head dropping back as she took his cock into her mouth and began sucking on the head. He lost himself in the warm, wet caress of her lips, her tongue swirling around the tip and flicking the underside rapidly. She took his hand and put it at the back of her head, her large eyes looking up at him with trust and desire. He tightened his hand in her curls and groaned, flexing his hips and pushing slowly to the back of her mouth. She swallowed around his thick, hard cock, squeezing him deliciously. Moving his other hand to her head, he began slowly thrusting in and out of her mouth, deeper and deeper into her relaxed throat, pumping faster and harder, losing himself to their rhythm. She moaned in lust around his cock, sending vibrations through him and driving him to go faster until his hips were a blur as he fucked her throat in an animalistic frenzy. The surge inside him seemed to come from every part of his being, and with a roar, he drove deep and released, his cum shooting out of him in thick bursts down her throat.

He pulled out to let her breathe, stunned at how completely he had lost himself. "Elle..." he gasped, going to his knees in front of her and taking her face in his hands.

"Did you like that?" she asked, giggling as she wiped her face in bashful pride.

"I... I'm still trying to believe that just happened," he gasped, taking her in his arms and lifting her to the bed. "At least, let me return the favor," he said, pulling the straps of her dress off her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her neck.

"Mmm... I like that. My dress won't come off that way, though. It needs to go up and over," she explained, reaching down to pull her dress off.

"Uh uh... no way... I get to do that. If anyone's going to be undressing you, it's going to be me," Ben said, taking the bottom of her dress and lifting it up over her head, revealing her body underneath. "Oh my God..." he said, throwing the skirt of her dress over her head, blinding her. "You had all this covered up... I feel like I've discovered a crime," he mused.