#bartender harry

**

I had a date tonight.

He had told me to put on something fancy before he left, so I did.

I wore red because he liked it - a turtleneck striped sweater, a miniskirt and matching gogo boots. I even pulled my roller set from the back of the drawer to try and tame my feathered hair into something resembling of the trendy Farrah Fawcett waves. Needless to say that that didn't go as planned, but it wasn't a total disaster either. I felt pretty and that was what mattered... a little frustrated too, once I saw the wall clock’s hands tick past the time he had promised to be home to pick me up.

A car honked outside, and I ran to the porch window to look. A huff left my lips when I saw it wasn't Andrew… just my neighbor's friend who happened to own a car of the same model he did - a 1974 Ford Maverick, that was currently pulled over the side of the road. I watched through the drapes as my neighbor fled out of the house sheltered under a vinyl umbrella and slid inside the car, where the driver greeted her with a passionate kiss.

The car's windshield wipers were on full blast, which reminded me that Andrew should also be driving in rainy weather. Before I knew it, I was nervously chewing on my thumb, as a vast collection of worst-case scenarios came popping into my head. Andrew had always been a fast driver, and the worn tires on that old car of his should have been changed months ago... but money had been tight – It always was, with me working at the five-and-dime and him constantly jumping from one temporary job to another.

He had never been the hardworking kind, and neither had I, but I tried… I showed up on time on the days my boss was there, smiled at rude costumers, and did my best not to spend much on myself...

I couldn't say the same about him.

That was the main topic of discussion under our roof - Andrew's spending habits. He bought more than he could afford and was never willing to make sacrifices - he went for a beer with the boys every night, while I stayed home and invited my friends over. He ate our leftovers outside meals, while I took less food into my plate than I wanted. He made foolish investments, promises he couldn’t keep, and never, ever put my or our interests first when it came to money.

Remembering these things was starting to make me feel angry, but I was more worried than anything else. For every extra minute that passed, there were 8 more laps I made from one side to the other of the hallway.

I was starting to get a bad feeling about his lateness but decided not to focus on that. It was Valentine’s Day, and he had promised this morning that he would take me somewhere nice… where we would eat duck in orange sauce and share a bottle of chardonnay… and then we’d go for a moonlit walk in the park before he drove us home, where he would make love to me.

I knew his promises weren’t to be trusted, but surely he wouldn’t let me down like this, would he?

I had probably just misunderstood the time of our reservations. That's what I told myself while I slung my leather coat over my shoulders and grabbed my purse from the hanger stand - just so he didn’t have to wait for me when he arrived.

And I waited.

And waited.

Until he showed - two hours later and accompanied by two snarky big guys that I knew to be his friends.

“Oh my god!” I jumped up from the sofa, where I had ended up sitting after many minutes of standing by the front door like a dog waiting for its owner. The first emotion that went through me was relief, in finding my boyfriend was still in one piece and not dead in a ditch somewhere, like I was starting to worry he might be.

But that feeling of relief didn't last, once I realized he was drunk – not just drunk, but rotten. My arms naturally crossed over my chest while I stood there speechless, watching my boyfriend stroll inside the house without a care – hollering about football and dropping beer from the bottle in his hand onto the lobby rug.

I could feel the indignation starting to bubble inside me, taking over my features and heart. “Andrew!” I yelled, but frankly I don't think he heard me. It was like I was invisible in his world, a world filled with nothing but beer, chants of victory and body sweat, apparently.

“Andrew!” I repeated, louder this time, what finally got the three heads to turn to me. Upon taking notice of my angered disposition, Andrew’s bulky friends exchanged a look in between them. As if they were debating if they should leave, but I saved them the time – “Out.” I growled, before they could take another step towards the sofa, where I knew they were headed. They followed my order, shutting the door behind them.

“Tracyyy!” Andrew sang back at me. The shit-faced grin he portrayed made me want to smack him unconscious on the spot, but I refrained from it… I needed to yell at him first.

The thing was I was at a loss of words - I couldn't believe this was the life I was living - a life where my boyfriend had stood me up on our special day to go get smashed instead. It wasn't unusual for Andrew to come home like this, but I expected more today. Maybe that was my problem… that I continued to expect different from him, even when everything I despised about him remained the same.

The sudden sound of a clash and porcelain shattering cut through my thoughts.

Andrew, who was moving like a stranger inside his own house, had bumped on the accent table on his way inside the living room - sending the lamp perched over it tumbling down. “Oh shit. My bad,” He paced back with his hands raised, stepping all over the shards and causing them to break into even smaller pieces.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” I finally managed to shout. His eyes jumped to mine, and what I saw in them disgusted me. He was staring at me with lust - like I was prey he had an appetite for.

“Tracy, Tracy, Tracy...” He murmured my name as he advanced – or stumbled – towards me. “You look so fuckin’ good…” He hissed through his teeth, reaching out to grab and kiss me.

“Get off!” I used my arms and hands to push him off my face. “Your breath reeks of beer - it’s disgusting.” I spat bitterly, shoving his shoulders back to force him to plunge on the sofa.

When faced with my rejection, Andrew groaned. “Right… let me hear it, what the fuck did I do to you this time?”

I scoffed a laugh, in utter disbelief. “Are you kidding me, right now? We had a date tonight, Andrew! A date you didn’t show up to!”

He sighed. “Yes, I know we had a date but baby… didn’t you watch the news? The niners won their first game of the season today. Do you have any idea of how big that is for us? It’s huge - and it’s also why I had to go celebrate with the guys...”

I shut my eyes and breathed in effort to calm down. “Are you… talking about football right now?”

“Yes, Tracy… the niners. As in, the best football team of all time.” He scoffed condescendingly, like he thought my question was dumb. “Oh, babe you should have seen them… Joe Cool was blistering through that field. The man was unstoppable. It was… fuckin’ epic.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable…” I shook my head, incredulous at his words. I could have been forgiving if he'd forgotten… it was something that could happen to anyone... but clearly, that wasn’t the case this time. Andrew had remembered the plans he’d made with me, and consciously decided not to follow through with them. His reason? A frigging football match. That! That was his reason. - “Why Andrew? Just… why?” I yelled in exasperation but all I got back was a vacant look. There wasn't a single flash of regret in his drunken eyes. It was like he couldn’t even see that he’d hurt me. “Why do you do this to me? Why am I always the one thing that comes last on your priority list?”

“Are you really going to start a fight over this? It was a fuckin’ dinner date, Tracy. We can go tomorrow.” I snorted at the utterance of that phrase. – “We’ll go tomorrow” – That was what he always said… but then, when the time came, we never got to go.

I let out a desperate sigh, running my hands through my hair. “No, Andrew. We can't! Because today was the day. It was today! Not tomorrow. Not the day after. Today!”

Andrew’s voice rose at my tone, now much more exalted. “And what does that even matter? It's a day, like any other day. It doesn't have to mean anything.”

“It meant something to me, goddamn it!” I finally snapped, stomping my foot hard enough to make the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor dither. Hot, mascara dyed tears began to stream down my disgruntled face, leaving traces of black in their wake.

Andrew stared at me wide-eyed when he noticed them. “Jesus Tracy, calm down… you don't have to cry.” He sneered. “If you’d told me dinner was this important to you, I obviously wouldn’t have missed it. Christ… I mean, you could have just said something instead of-”

“That’s the problem! I shouldn’t have to say anything.” I sobbed, even though I knew it wasn't going to be worth it. How could I expect him to understand the motives of my anger, when he couldn't even see I had motives to be angry? - “Do you even realize how selfish it is of you to ask that? You shouldn't be breaking promises! You shouldn’t even be making them if you're not counting on keeping them!”

“Oh so now I'm the selfish one? You’re the one who’s never satisfied with anything I do! You’re so fucking ungrateful, and then you cry just to make me feel sorry.”

I blew out a scathing laugh. “Oh I wish making you feel sorry was that fucking easy…”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time it would be.”

His accusation made me flinch. I fell silent for a moment, once again left speechless. We argued sometimes, but he had never stooped so low as to call me that. “What did you just call me?” I asked, incredulous.

Andrew squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa. I could tell he knew he'd said the wrong thing, but it was too late to take it back. “It’s what you’re being right now…” He said with a shrug.

Andrew’s reply didn’t surprise me. I knew better than to expect an apology from him. That was another thing about Andrew, the word Sorry never seemed to be part of his lexicon…

That was the kind of guy he was.

That was the kind of guy I was dating.

In this case, however, it didn't matter if he chose to apologize or not... he had called me a bitch - that was something I could never excuse.

I walked out of the room for a moment, just for as long as it took me to reach the closet where I knew Andrew’s sports bags were. I picked one at random - the first one I got my hands on - and took it back with me to the living room. “Here.” I tossed it into his lap, harshly and with no preamble. “I’m giving you half an hour to pack your things and walk out that door.” I said as I put my coat back on and shouldered my purse, considering I had stripped off both during my long wait. “I’m going for a walk. When I come back I want you gone. You can come get the rest of your stuff tomorrow.”

“What?” He practically barked, leaning forward on the sofa. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t kick me out - this is my house too!”

“Why are you never in it then?” I asked, knowing he would have no answer to give me. “Besides, I was already living here before you moved in from your parents’s. All you have to do is go back to where you were months ago. It's not like it's going to make much of a difference to you anyway.”

“Tracy, wait…” I was already on my way towards the front door when I heard Andrew’s calls for my name. My intention was to ignore them, but unfortunately I couldn’t because in his drunken state he had somehow managed to get up and come after me. “So that’s how it’s going to be? I screw up once and you decide to throw it all away?”

“Once…” I repeated through a humorless chuckle, turning although my fist remained firmly wrapped around the doorknob. “When’s our anniversary, Andrew?” I asked suddenly, what took him by surprise. I knew he didn't know because the date had gone unnoticed by him months ago. “What’s my favorite flower?” He had never given me any. If he had, he'd know that whatever he chose would become my favorite. “What’s my biggest dream?” I asked and on his part, again, there was silence.

“Babe c’mon, we don’t have to do this...” He supplicated, grabbing my wrist, and forcing me to stop and face him again. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I know I haven't been the nicest lately, but I love you… can't you see that?”

I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him. There was nothing about his statement that rang true. I turned the knob, but he tugged on my wrist and tried to kiss me again. “Stop! Just stop!” I pushed him back, irritated by his insistence – and once I opened my mouth next, it was like every syllable coming from it trembled with emotion. “It’s always like this with you and I’m done! I’m done with hearing the same crap over and over only for it not to mean anything!”

Andrew was still coming after me when I opened the door and ran down the outside stairs that led to the porch, but thankfully he gave up on following suit once he saw me step under the pouring rain and start walking up the street with no destination in mind.

The idea of ​​bringing an umbrella completely passed me by in the midst of everything else, and now it seemed that it was raining even more than the last time I looked out the window. I didn't care though, the cold rainwater felt sobering as it poured over my hot, heavy head – morphing my already withered Farrah waves into a cascade of unflattering wet strands.

The water dripped down my shivery body and ran beneath the sidewalk gullies under my feet as I walked. The crunch of my soles on the wet floor reminded me that I was by myself.

Not just out on the street, but in my love life as well.

A trickle of guilt shot down my spine, but I made a conscious effort to ignore it. My decision hadn’t been rushed… I had been considering ending my relationship with Andrew for months, but for some reason I always ended up changing my mind… afraid I would end up regretting it.

I knew Andrew wasn’t the type to change and still, I persisted. I gave him endless opportunities by tricking my brain into believing he was going to do better next time around… even if, deep down, I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment. – Being around Andrew was always going to be like this. Like sailing through life without an anchor to support me.

Up until this point I had made the choice to put up with that…

But not anymore.

And I felt good with my decision.

Not so much with the decision to go out alone after dark though. Due to the deterrent creeps running over my skin at the sight of two suspicious-looking guys leaning around the street's corner. I wasn't one to judge by looks... Living in San Francisco, it was common to run into scary-looking strangers. I felt comfortable around groups of loud protestants and punks with spiky hair and ripped t-shirts, but something about the way these men were looking at me made me feel uneasy - enough to have me walking to the other side of the road before I crossed paths with them.

Their eyes wouldn't let go of me as trudged the small street that led to Alamo Square Park. I hoped that there would be more people there... and this wish only intensified once one of the men whistled as I walked past them. I pretended not to hear… just quickened my step and sharpened my ears to detect any kind of movement on their part, and lo and behold: there were footsteps trailing behind me. “What’s the matter sweetheart?” An eerie voice asked from my back. “Are you feeling down? Me and my friend would love to feel you up.”

“Fuck off.” I replied in a bad mood. My legs sped up even more, while my eyes kept dancing all around, looking for an open establishment I could enter but there was nothing here - the street was deserted and I still had more than 5 minutes to go until I reached my destination.

“O-Oh… feisty, and she’s got a filthy mouth on her too…” Another guy said behind me, and I hated the grisly tone in which he spoke.

I wanted to tell them to fuck off again, but I knew that wasn't the smartest thing to do taken the fact they had found it amusing the first time. “Leave me alone, I’m not interested.” I said instead, making an impulsive decision to turn to a street on my left, in the hope that it would throw them off and make them stop following me.

It didn’t work, they kept walking after me. “Where are you going, sweetie? Trying to run from us?” I heard their footsteps getting faster, so I sprinted. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew the area and had passed these streets before. There was a set of stairs to my right, and I ran down them. It was tempting to look back and see if my pursuers were getting closer as I ran, but I refused to do it. Instead, I kept running further - through alleys, back streets, passageways, and parking lots.

My mouth tasted of blood due to the racing heart pounding in my chest and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Water splashed under my feet, making my footsteps audible even in the streets adjacent to the one where I was currently at. My body was asking for a break, but I didn't know if I could give it that – I was terrified. I had never been in such a situation before… sure, I had been catcalled before, but never stalked to the point where I was legitimately afraid for my life.

I dared to glance behind my back, sighing in relief once I saw that there was no one there anymore. “Holy fucking shit…” I finally allowed myself to breathe, leaning against a wall of a building hidden in the shadows. There was a store on the first floor, but it had been shut for a while by the looks of it - the windows were covered with old newspapers, and the door sign that marked it as a hardware store also looked a bit outdated. Something about its placement looked offbeat however, it made me wonder if that was the reason why they had gone off the market... it couldn't have been easy to captivate customers being so hidden down an alleyway.

At least the storefront had an awning where I could shelter from the rain - not that it was worth much now that the water had seeped through all the layers of my clothes, but at least it gave me a little solace. My body was freezing, but there was still so much adrenaline running in my system that I didn't even notice I was shaking until I felt my teeth chatter.

All I wanted to do was go back home, take a warm shower, go to bed, and forget that this terrible, terrible day had ever happened… but I couldn't, not just because Andrew should still be there by now, but also because I was hearing heavy footsteps again, coming from somewhere close – probably one of the streets surrounding me. I covered my mouth with my hand and slipped further into the darkness, silently praying for a way out to help me get home safely.

As if the universe was listening to my prayers, once I pressed my body against the wall where I thought I was less likely to be spotted, my ears took notice of a drumming coming from within the building I was hiding outside of. That was when I finally realized where exactly I was. I had heard about this place – The Hardware – through the vine before. It was a homey thing. A private club. I had a few friends who came often, but I had never… I had always assumed for the place to be a bit dodgy – Why would its existence be made known solely by a word of mouth system if they had nothing to hide, after all?

But now it was my best option...

I could hear the voices and steps becoming louder and clearer. They were getting closer – I knew if I stayed here, it was only going to be a matter of time until they found me…

So I rang the doorbell - relentlessly, until I finally saw the sliding peephole pulling open, and a set of eyes come into view - a set of surprisingly kind, light in color and sober looking eyes. A deep voice followed before I managed to get a single word out. “Password please.” It asked pressingly.

The request surprised me… I knew the place was restrictive, but never in a million years would I have expected to be asked for a bloody password. “Uh...” I rambled for a beat, searching every corner of my brain for something, anything... surely my friends had mentioned it around me before... but of course I hadn't thought to memorize it. “I can’t remember what it is, but-”

“Sorry dear.” The man interrupted, sounding more like a record when he said, “No password, no entry.”

“No, no, no – listen, you’ve got to let me in.” I muttered urgently, before he got the chance to close the peephole in my face. “These guys- they’re chasing me and I'm alone out here.” I hated the way my voice sounded – all pitchy and wavery from despair, but I was too nervous to stay quiet. “ Please, just for a little while. I'll be out in a minute, I swear.”

I figured my hopelessness had somehow appealed to this man’s heart, because he seemed to be actually debating over my words, eyes focused on mine until he finally asked, “What’s your name?”

“Tracy.” I shivered. “Tracy Turner.”

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for the door before me to creak open. Automatically, my lips parted to thank whoever kind soul had agreed to let me inside, but the gentle touch of their hand on my back ushered me in before I could.

When inside, the first thing I noticed were the clouds of smoke swirling in the air… and the colorful cocktails and beer being prepared and served at the counter. Brother Louie by Modern Talking rumbled through the club speakers, courtesy of the disco jockey mixing records of swooshing electronic music with heavy basslines.

The atmosphere of the club was interesting, and not nearly as subversive as I had imagined when I learned of the existence of such a place. There didn't seem to be anything illegal going on... there was no contraband or obscene sex happening, just a hodgepodge of fashionable, frizzy haired party people dancing and socializing with each other.

“The rain got you bad,” The raspy voice from earlier caught me off guard once it spoke beside me, making my eyes flicker up to finally get a good look of whoever I’d persuaded into letting me inside the privy club I was at. As I did, I felt warmth wash over me as if I’d soaked into that bath I so desperately craved. He was… a stunner.

Starting with his beautiful eyes that I had already met through the peephole - specked with shades of green and blue that reminded me of a forest pond. His eyes wouldn't be that big of an issue though… if only the rest of his face wasn’t just as equally mesmerizing - with lips the color of watermelon sorbet and features just like they describe in romance novels. Even his hair was dreamy, for god’s sake... sleek, yet messy with the occasional self-willed curl falling over his forehead.

But the worst part had to be the groovy, carefree charm he exuded… that had my foolish heart skipping a beat when he said, “Christ love, you’re freezing cold…” I was going to tell him I wasn't, in fact it was even quite sweltry inside the bar when compared to the weather outside… but he had just touched my soaked clothes, and he seemed quite distressed over them. “Come with me, yeah? Let's get you something to dry up.”

I nodded and followed him, not wanting to undo his will when he’d been so kind to me. Besides, I figured me, and my wet clothes might be drawing a little too much attention for his liking… supposing that he'd get in trouble with whoever owned this club if they realized I was an intruder he'd let in. He took me behind the bar, and then through a door next to the counter, into the service room – from where he rushed to gather two clean bar towels. “Here,” he said, extending them towards me. “They’re not very big so, if you need more, please just suit yourself.”

“Oh-uhm, one should be fine… and thank you. You really didn't have to.”

“It’s no problem, really.” The guy chuckled, turning around to spread open a beaded curtain at the back of the room. There was a wooden staircase behind it. “Give me a minute, will you? I'll be right back.” He told me, but before I could answer he had already vanished behind the bracket of multicolored beads and was now climbing up the stairs at a brisk pace.

When alone in the room, I finally allowed myself to take a deep breath - something I felt I hadn't done since I'd seen the man. Dear god... tall, handsome, and friendly? No wonder they kept him locked in here… he was a menace to the rest of the male species out there.

I brought one of the towels to my nose out of curiosity, it smelled fresh and flowery. I used it to dry my hair first, squeezing out as much rainwater as I could before I made use of the second towel to wipe my face and clothes. My heart raced when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and even more so when the curtain opened. He held a blanket scarf in his hands, that was promptly laid over my shoulders. “It’s a bit bohemian, but it should keep you warm…” He smiled. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Tracy Turner” I smiled at him, adjusting the blanket over my shoulders a bit. “Thank you, for letting me inside… and the towels, and this. You really didn't have to...”

“Aish… don’t mention it, yeah? It’s the least I could do.” He turned his back to me for a moment, but the lack of answer from my part had his head tilting around to face me. “Are you okay?”

“No, yeah. I’m okay. It was just… a bad night, to say the least.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, “Those guys that were bothering you… what’s up with that?”

“I don’t know them. I was out for a walk when they approached me- I would’ve ignored them, but I was upset ‘cause I had gotten into a fight with my boyf- I mean, ex. He’s my ex.” Harry's brows jumped at my admission. His reaction intrigued me, but I didn't know what to make of it, so I carried on. “I talked back at them. And from there they started following me and wouldn’t-” My talking got cut off by one of the bartenders swinging the door open. Her eyes widened as she poked her mullet head inside. She reached for a bottle behind me, muttering a small “Sorry,” as she left. Her surprised reaction reminded me that I was an intruder in this club, and even more so in its service room. “Are you sure it's okay for me to be here? I don't want you to get in trouble with your boss over this...” I asked Harry, feeling a little sheepish.

He chuckled at my assumption. “Nah... you’re fine. Boss's a tranquil guy.” He said, pausing for an instant before finally adding, “It’s me. I’m the boss.” He smiled at my surprised face before bending down to pick up the towels I'd used. “Which, by the way... if there’s a next time you want to come, the password is Clandestine. Feel free to spread it around with friends, yeah? But only the nice ones...”

My mouth parted around a stunned breath, too puzzled to speak as I watched him toss the used towels onto a basket to wash. “Wait, so you actually want me to spread the word around?” I asked, what made his head snap up with a nod. “I thought- Isn't this like- a super exclusive club? As in, a ‘to be kept on the hush’ club?”

“Well… it is, sort of, but it still needs promotion and new customers just as much as any regular club does...”

My brows knit slightly. “Why not just make it a regular club, then?”

“Honestly?” Harry’s expression sobered as he leant back against a cupboard and crossed his arms. “Do you want the absolute, unfiltered truth Tracy Turner?” He asked menacingly, although his face was still traced with humor. I nodded positively, mirroring his stance. “Okay well, let’s see… It’s homier. The taxes are cheaper. I don't have to entertain idiots I don't want in here, plus... the secretiveness keeps the customers coming. People love secrets, Tracy Turner… and love to spread them too, it’s why new people show up here every day.”

“So how do you keep it a secret and promote it at the same time? That sounds like a catch-22 situation.”

Harry coughed a genuine laugh at my question, angling his head a little to the side in thought. “Well, I’d say the key to the deal is finding balance between periods of admission and restriction for new customers, and of course, changing the password from time to time to keep that feel of exclusivity… Oh! and never revealing any of this to any curious, pretty customers who ask…” He said, and then with a cheeky smile gracing his features, he added, “Suppose I still have a bit of work to do on that last one, hm?” He winked, and I felt my cheeks blush but luckily, he saved me the embarrassment of answering when he turned around and casually asked, “Do you like hot chocolate, Tracy Turner?”

“I- um, yes. I like hot chocolate.” I mumbled, taking a curious peek over his shoulder to see what he was up to – drinking chocolate, obviously.

My tongue was itching to tell Harry that he didn’t have to make me one, but the thing was… I wasn’t sure that he was making it for me, and I didn’t want to risk making a fool of myself, so I decided to keep quiet (and also, an eye out to make sure he wasn't spiking it… better safe than sorry, isn’t that what they always say?

“Do you want sugar in yours?”

I breathed out in relief at the question. Finally. A chance to say something. “Oh no, I’m okay.” I spat quickly, ignoring his question. “You don’t have to make me one.”

“Are you not in the mood for one?” He asked, looking a little let down by my response. “It’s on the house... I wasn’t planning to charge you for it.”

I contemplated saying I wasn’t but honestly, a cup of hot chocolate sounded fantastic… warm, sweet, and soothing to my sad, empty stomach. “No. I am, but-” I reached for my purse, to pull out my wallet. “I'll pay for it.”

“Sure, alright.” Harry shrugged, extending out an open hand. “Cadbury is ten dollars a spoon. I added two, plus the milk… that'll be thirty dollars, please.” My eyes widened at his price, unsure if he was joking but praying he was. “I'm kidding. It's free, okay? No one ever buys it so you're doing me a favor just by helping me drink it.”

I drew in a breath, feeling my cheeks warm as I hesitantly breathed out my response, “Oh-um… okay, then.”

Harry’s dimples winked at me. “Soo.. sugar?”

“Just half a spoon, please.”

I stood silent for a while as I admired Harry finish stirring the chocolate in our drinks and putting them to warm in the microwave. Once it dinged, he opened the fridge and took out a can of Reddi-wip, that he used to top our drinks with a swirl Chantilly cream. Plus a dash of cinnamon powder.

“Alright. There you go, Tracy Turner.” He said, handing me one of the amber colored glass mugs. “Is it good? Warm enough?”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” I said, even before I put the edge to my mouth to taste it. “It looks beautiful too, with the cinnamon...”

Harry chuckled, lifting the mug to his mouth for a sip. A lick of whipped cream underlined his top lip, stuck to his stubble. I broke a smile at it, until he got the hint and wiped it off. Shaking his head and turning a light shade of pink, he murmured sheepishly “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I wanted to tell him that I found it cute, but I refrained from it. That would be weird to say to a stranger, wouldn’t it?

“It’s okay.” I said instead, “It happens to me all the time too.” My face lowered to my mug and as if to prove a point, a thin strand of hair flit from my fringe and dipped right into the whipped cream. “See?”

Harry was staring at my face, but his attention seemed to be on something other than my messy ways. “Do you like it? Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s… really good.”

We finished our drinks in between shared moments of comfortable silence and casual conversation. I liked the way Harry talked to me, like he genuinely wanted to get to know me. He would ask about my interests, in a spontaneous and casual way. All small things, really… such as what part of town I liked the most and what kind of gigs I liked to go to. To be completely frank, I was enjoying the attention more than anything else... even though I knew it was cordial.

What could I say? Being the target of someone’s interest and company felt nice for a change. Really nice. Nice enough to make me overlook the chilly temperature outside to have a cigarette at the back of the bar, just so we could keep talking.

“What did you come down here for? It's too cold for you outside!” Harry scolded me. Half seriously, half-jokingly when he saw me walk out the back door right after he'd told me he was going for a smoke… but would come back to pester me some more in no time. His words, not mine.

“I’m here for the same thing you are.” I laughed, taking my pack of cigarettes and lighter out of my bag. I lit one, trying my best to ignore my shaky lips and fingers as I took the first puff.

“You could’ve smoked inside. I just don't do it out of habit, but everyone else does…”

“It's fine. I'll have to go home in a bit anyway, so it's not like a little cold now is going to make much difference.” I chuckled behind the smoke coming from my mouth.

We smoked quietly for a while, leaning against the back wall side by side until Harry broke the silence with a question, “May I ask where you live?” I was going to tell him my address, but his hand stole my attention when it touched my wrist. “Don’t hit me with street names please, I can never figure my way around like that.”

Harry’s grip dropped the next second, leaving behind a tingly vacancy. I felt like my reasoning had left with his touch, but thankfully after a silent note I finally managed to ask, “Do you know where the Hotel Majestic is?” He hummed around his cigarette in confirmation. “It's on that street. Not the one that shows the front of the hotel, but one of the sides.” I clarified, taking another conscious drag.

“But you walked here, right?” He asked, blowing out a thick cloud of white smoke into the air. I nodded. “Do you have someone coming to pick you up?”

“Oh no, I wish...” I jerked my shoulders, partially to hide a shiver. “I don't mind the walking though, it's not that far anyway...”

Harry opposed. “I can't let you walk home by yourself at this hour…” He affirmed with a brisk shake of his head as he reached down to put out his cigarette on the sidewalk. “Especially after what you told me happened earlier.” He threw the butt in the trash and held the lid open, noticing I was putting mine out too. “I'll drive you home, okay? Just give me a few minutes to shut everything down. We’re already pushing past closing time anyway.”

“No I- I can't accept that.” I fretted, tossing my cigarette into the bin after him. I didn't comment on it, but I liked the fact that he was careful not to leave his cigarette butts on the floor… or on the flower beds by the door. “You've already done too much for me, plus I'm used to walking around at night and nothing ever happened... other than that thing earlier, but I'm sure it won't happen again anytime soon.”

I held Harry's blanket tighter around me when a gust of wind blew over us, making the pink flowers tremble in their beds. Thankfully, Harry felt the cold too and walked to the door, opening it. “It will definitely not happen tonight, because I’m taking you home...” He said calmy as he ushered us back inside. “I’ll keep you company walking in case you don't want to get in my car… which I completely understand if you don’t, by the way.”

“No, it’s not that- it’s just… not necessary. I go for walks at night all the time and-”

“I want to, okay?” Harry ensured, smiling. “You are fun to talk to, Tracy Turner. And I want to get to know you better, so… if you think I'm insufferable you better speak now, ‘cause otherwise I'm not budging.”

I huffed, hoping it would blow the giddiness off my face. “Alright. Fine, under the condition that you'll let me help around a little while you close the club.”

Harry snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the walls. “Do you have any experience working in the field, Miss Tracy?”

I pursed my lips at the question. “Not exactly but I do have loads of experience scrubbing counters, washing dishes, sweeping and mopping floors.”

“That's a deal, then.” Harry grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m hiring you for the night, Tracy Turner. Better not let me down.”

I grabbed it immediately, thinking he was going for a playful handshake. Instead, he led me out of the service room – his hand clasping mine until we were back behind the bar, with our senses getting swarmed by the loud and smokey atmosphere going on in the club's main room.

Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell seemed to have awakened the craziest side of the dancing part of the audience, that gathered in front of the DJ booth jumping with their arms in the air. They looked to be having a great time, which made me feel a little sorry when I saw Harry wave at the jokey and mutter something about wrapping things up.

The man nodded once, but let the tape run until the song ended. His kindness didn't amount to much, however… for as soon as the music stopped, a roar of boos and hoos broke through the sudden silence, coming from a batch of disgruntled heads in crowd.

“Hey-hey, cool down peeps!” Harry shouted from behind the counter. He didn't look miffed by their complaints however, but more so entertained in a way. “There'll be more of the same tomorrow. Same time, same place… We’ll be having a Run DMC tribute night- make sure not to miss it! Those are always fun!”

I waited for most of the clients to clear out before I turned to Harry again, “So… what can I do?” I asked, looking around.

“Oh uhh… you can… let’s see… go have a seat?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Seriously love, you don’t have to do anything...”

“Yes but I want to!” I replied convincingly. “Okay. Tell me, should I go wipe the tables or... wait! I need to pick all the glasses first, don’t I? Can I use a tray for leverage or is that lame?”

The mullet girl from earlier laughed at my noticeable lack of experience, what Harry saw as a chance to introduce me to her, along with the rest of the staff members. “So… this is Tracy. Today’s her first day and, by the look of things… the last day she’ll be working with us also.”

His playful nagging got them to laugh but caused my lips to go droopy from dejection. “Hey! How come? I haven't even broken anything yet...”

“Yet.” Harry rehashed my word. I pouted again. “Aiish… don't pout with those pretty lips at me! That’s playing dirty…” He bantered, before head-signaling towards the tables area. “I’ll clear them and you wipe after me. How does that sound?”

He thought my lips were pretty?

“Sounds good.” I nodded, trying not to pay too much attention to what he'd said about my lips.

It was just a form of expression...

Surely. It had to have been that… And yet, the fact that I believed so did nothing to stop that sentence of his from lingering in the back of my mind the entire time we worked together cleaning the tables.

Was he interested? I thought his lips to be quite nice too… especially when they split into a big smile or laugh at something I said or did. I really liked the way he carried himself too… his easy breezy attitude… tall physique… bedraggled hair...

Crap! Was I interested?

No. I couldn’t be… Harry was just handsome. Very handsome, and acting all nice and attentive towards me. Plus it was Valentine’s Day, and I had just broken up with mine...

I was just vulnerable and needy.

That was what I was choosing to let myself believe, because how else would I justify my craving for another man already? What kind of person did that make of me?

I should be at home crying for the idiot who let me down, or for the duck in orange sauce that I never got to eat, but instead I was back at the rear of the bar, watching a cloud of smoke break through a practical stranger's lips, wondering if they tasted as deliciously pink as they looked…

“I was just realizing,” Harry started, smiling sideways at me. “You haven’t told me what you do for a living yet…”

“Oh.” I jolted, feeling a little embarrassed about the answer I had to give him. I had been counting my blessings over the fact he hadn't asked me, but I knew it was only a matter of time until my luck ran out. “I work at a five-and-dime near where I live… It’s not the nicest job but… I make do.”

“I get it.” He claimed through a puff. “Is there something you’d like to do, if not that?”

“You’ll poke fun at me if I tell you.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Yes you will, but fine – I guess I’ll tell you.” I sighed through the wave of smoke that surrounded us. “Ever since I was little I’ve always wanted to work for the radio – like, as a host. I don’t know why; I just… have some sort of fascination for it, I suppose.”

“No fucking way... Really?” Harry’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. “Have you ever tried it? With proper radio equipment and all that…”

“Oh, I wish... but no, never.” I said wistfully.

Harry smiled, with one of those smiles where the eyes shine brighter than the teeth. “Would you like to? Right now?” My face scrunched, confused until he said, “There’s a setup upstairs…”

“Are you pulling my leg?” I asked above the grin splitting my face in two.

Judging by the smug smile staring back at me, it didn't look like he was... he looked plenty serious, even when my obvious excitement made him cough a laugh as he spat, “Swear on my life!”

“Your bar has a radio station?” I asked full steam ahead, still a little in disbelief but undeniably excited. “Is it open? Can we go see it?”

“Not the bar, it’s um- it’s in my house. I live upstairs. On the first floor.” Harry clarified, through sheepish pink cheeks. “I’ll still take you to go see it if you want to, I just thought I should let you know before… in case you didn’t feel comfortable going there just us.”

“Oh, um- I’m comfortable if you are. You don’t have to take me though, if you don’t want to...”

“Will it make you happy, Tracy Turner?” He asked. I nodded. Our eyes sparkled. “Then I want to.”

And so it was. Once we had finished our cigarettes, Harry led me upstairs. Up the stairs hidden behind the beaded curtain and through a hallway in his house that looked more like it belonged inside a 70’s office room, than as part of a home. “Are we alone or are your parents around?” I whisper asked as we walked. Harry shot me a funny look. “I’m just asking to know if we need to keep it quiet, that’s all…”

“They never lived here. My dad used to own the place though… but he gave it to me once they shut down the station a couple years ago.” He stared up at the cork covered ceiling as we walked. “This room I’m taking you to used to be one of the main radio rooms I think..? It's cluttered in old stuff I haven’t gotten rid of yet… that’s also why that bad boy over there is still around-” He flicked the light on.

“Woahh…” My gaze danced over the setup in front of me. The only things I knew what they were for were the reel to reel tape recorder, the mic and headphones and the soundboard mixer. That didn't make me any less excited, however. “Does it work?”

“Mhmm…” Harry hummed. “Bet you’re dying to play with it, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked through a breathy laugh.

“Oh yeah… super-duper obvious.” He chuckled back. “Alright, you can take that chair near the microphone and put on the headphones. As for me… let’s see if I still remember how to crank this thing up and get it going.”

I did as Harry said, waiting patiently while he checked and adjusted a bunch of cables and wires around. I tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but his concentrated face was way more appealing. The creases showing between his arched brows, his lips slightly pursed…

“Okay so- the soundboard.” He started, plopping down on the other chair and rolling over its wheels until we were sat side by side. “As you can see it has loads of buttons and being honest, I don’t know what all of them do so for now let’s focus on this volume slider here and this yellow button, which is basically what you want to move whenever you want to speak. So if I do this,” He clicked the button and made the switch go up on the board. “We should be on-air.”

“Can people really hear us?” I whispered, pulling slightly away from the microphone.

“Well… I can't promise you that there’s someone tuned in on the other side but in case there is, then yeah… they can hear us.” Harry replied quietly, before he leaned closer to me. “So, if there’s any messages you’d like to share with the world, now would be the time to do it.”

“The whole world?” I gasped.

“Okay… that might have been a slight exaggeration. Not the whole world, maybe just one local or two. Which, speaking of,” He leaned over our shared microphone, clearing his throat comically. “Dear listeners if you’re there… don't give up on us yet. We promise we’ll get it together in a second.” I smothered my laughter with my hand, as I leaned back in the swivel chair. Harry pulled the vocal slider down to nil, then with a big smile on his face he turned to me and asked, “Should we hit them with commercial break tapes from 20 years ago?”

“Oh yeah, let's.” I agreed at first, but then my eyes fell on the record player. “No, wait- actually, can we play some music first?”

“What do you want to play?”

“What are my options?”

“Well... most like- tapes and shellac options are from the 60's and 70's but one of the tonearms is set up for vinyl, so we can play some recent stuff too.” I nodded and acted like I was on topic. I didn't own any vinyl’s… the way I got my music was by sitting next to the five-and-dime’s radio player waiting for my jams to play so I could hit the ‘record’ button quickly enough. It was free and easy… then all I had to do was pray the DJ didn’t ruin my recording with any mid-song nonsense. -- “We have… Tears for Fears… Beastie Boys… Foreigner! That would make for a great choice, in my opinion...” Harry tipped, trying to influence me. I scrunched my nose. “Let’s see what else… Pixies, MJ… Oh! And my personal favorite at the moment… Laura Branigan!”

“No way!” I yelped. She was one of my current favorites as well. “You don’t happen to have Self Control, do you?”

“I like to think I have some, yeah…” Harry bantered, as he moved through his queued up records.

“No… I meant the record… by Laura Branigan.”

“On it, Tracy Turner.” He winked, moving to get the disc out of its cover. He placed it on one of the turntables, then flicked some stuff onto the board, arranged the tonearm over it and lo and behold, we were playing music!

“You know… you say my name a lot.” I commented out of curiosity, or just to see what he’d say really.

He chuckled at the question, scratching at his stubble before answering. “I like your name. It’s a good name.”

“And what exactly defines a good name, hm?”

“It’s a name I like saying?” He left it at that, letting the music fill the silence for a few seconds before throwing me is own sudden question. “What’s your favorite song? In general, not just this record.”

I pursed my lips in thought for a moment. “Ummm… I really like that Billy Idol one they were playing earlier downstairs. Oh, and A Kind of Magic by Queen! I freakin’ love that song… Yours?”

“Oof… let me think…” He took a big breath as he did so. “I really like… Sledgehammer by Peter Gabriel. That’s a good song…”

I snorted, shaking my head. “That’s a dirty song, Harry.”

“Okay but… Rebel Yell is pretty dirty too and you just said that you liked it…” My head cocked to the side in consideration. “But I mean at this point it's a bit like, what gives, isn’t it? If you think about it, there are sex related bits and pieces in every song… and it makes sense… since sex is like, a universal language almost. Everyone loves it.”

“Ehh… you’re right about the songs. I don’t know if I agree with that last bit so much though.” I said honestly, what brought Harry’s eyes to narrow with heed. “It must be good for you guys I suppose… but us girls... most times than not, we’re left feeling achy and unsatisfied.” I clarified myself, knowing he’d ask me to.

“What?” He questioned instantly. “Is that how the people you've been with made you feel?”

“Hmmm... not always. There were times better than others, but I never got to, you know… finish.” I didn’t know how he managed to pull that away from me… I had never admitted that to anyone, but with Harry it was like by the time I realized, I had already told him. “But it's one of those things that makes me think that maybe the problem is mine. Like, maybe I can't because my body isn't made to do it.”

“Yeah no. That’s not true love, and you know it. All bodies are made to feel pleasure, so sorry to tell you but you’ve been having sex with sloppy blokes... or blokes who didn't really know what they were doing. Most times it's more like that.” Harry paused, looked down and then rose his eyes up to me again. “Can I ask you something really personal? You don’t have to answer it though, if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, go ahead.” I agreed with a small smile.

“Have you- erm, never touched yourself before- I mean… to the point of.. finishing?”

Shit. That one caught me off guard, and also made me stutter slightly, “I-uh… I have, yeah… I know what an orgasm is. I've had them before, just never with another person.” I chatted on, a little nervous about letting the conversation fall into silence. “...But to be fair I know it's harder for girls to get there… and for boys to figure out how we work-”

“It's not harder, it's just different…” Harry responded calmly. He sounded like he was sure of what he was saying too. Which addled me a bit at the time, but started to make perfect sense once he added, “Look, I'm not going to sit here pretending to be a saint to impress you... I've fooled around a bit when it comes to these things - girls, boys, in-betweeners... I mean, you name it… I probably did it. So believe me when I tell you, the fact that you're a girl has little to do with it. If a guy really wants to give you an orgasm, he won't give up until he gets you there. No matter how hard it is or how long it takes… and he’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Shit... Shit.

I couldn't tell if it stemmed from his words or the way he seemed so lost in my eyes when he said them, but something about that moment made my temperature soar to the point that my head felt tipsy.

“You’ve slept with men before?” I asked suddenly, trying to shift the topic to something that distracted me from those last words of his echoing inside my head.

Judging from the way his brows creased, I could tell his mood had shifted a little at my question. “Is that a problem to you?”

“No, no – God, not at all. It’s um... it's hot, actually.” I felt my cheeks burn at the admission, but when his beautiful smile followed it, it made the embarrassment worth it.

Harry’s arm, that was placed on the table, bent over his elbow. “Mm… is it?” He pried teasingly, resting his head on his hand just so he was staring right at me. “And why is that?”

“I don’t know, it just is.” I laughed, shyly covering my face with my hands. “Can we move on with the subject, please? This one is sort of making me want to jump out the window.”

“No, I quite like this subject.” Harry insisted jokingly, “You’re cute when you squirm, did you know that?” His question spawned a groan from me. He laughed at it, but when I dared to meet his gaze again, he looked solemn… contemplative, “It makes me wonder…” He added calmly, looking down for a beat before his eyes darted up to mine. “If that’s how you get when you finish. And I think I would like to help you find out.”

My heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, but contrary to expected it didn't make me gasp or yelp. I wasn’t jolted like by it like I probably should have been… mostly because the same want had been hammering in my mind too. “I think I would like that, but-” I sighed, before I carried reluctantly. “I don't think we should, at least not-”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s all good. You don't owe me an explanation… if anything, I should be apologizing for my bluntness.” I felt his fingertips brush along a strand of my hair, so delicately that I could’ve dreamed it. “I just hope it didn't make you uncomfortable...” I shook my head in denial, not trusting my tongue to respond when my body was practically melting under his touch. “Would you like me to take you home now?”

“No”, my heart answered honestly, but realistically I knew I had no reason to stay longer now that sex was out of the equation. “Yeah, that- that would probably be good.” I answered, looking down to avoid his eyes – otherwise I didn’t know what I might do.

“Alright-” Harry stretched as he stood from his chair, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the skin of his belly as his t-shirt rose slightly. But my body heated up even more once I noticed the swelling happening at the front of his jeans, letting me in on the fact that our conversation had left him as hot and bothered as it had me. That wasn’t helping. The knowledge that I’d made him hard was only making me want to leave less. “Just give me a sec to go get my keys.” He petted my hair as he squeezed behind my chair to go fetch his car keys from another room of the house.

I groaned silently as I watched him go. He seemed so calm and collected despite the bulge in his pants. That was what was making my head reel the most… how okay he was with my rejection. It wasn't very usual for men to react so well to something like that… meanwhile, Harry hadn't even tried to steal a kiss! Something I was partly thankful for, but then at the same time I kind of wished he had – if only he knew I was a heartbeat away from having a change of heart, maybe he would 've…

After all, what was keeping me from going through with this? Andrew?

Granted, we hadn't formally broken up yet… but I was planning to do that in a few hours once he came over to get his stuff – knowing him, probably with flowers and chocolates and more empty promises to try to get me to change my mind, but I wasn't going to fall for that. Not after finding out there were interesting people like Harry out there…

Harry, well… he made me curious. He was sweet, straightforward, open-minded, and most importantly, he seemed like the kind who knew how to make it good for both parties the bedroom. I wanted that for myself. I had for a while, actually… but whenever I thought to broach the topic with someone, I always ended up feeling like I was being too picky or painting my sex life to be horrible when it wasn’t. I enjoyed sex… just never got to enjoy it thoroughly like other people did. Honestly, it felt like whenever things started to feel that good for me, it ended – and I was left pent-up.

It wasn't as if opportunities like these came every day, though. Not with men like Harry at least...

“Ready to go?” He asked as he peeked back inside the room, smiling warmly at me whilst fiddling the keys in his hand.

I got up from the chair, leaving behind the blanket Harry had lent me and the little willpower I had left before I walked to meet him at the door. And when his hand reached for the handle to open it, I surprised him and even myself by darting mine over to stop him. He looked at me in question. “I uh- I changed my mind.” I blurted.

Harry’s face relaxed, but the dark in his eyes gleamed brighter. “You sure?” He breathed into the short distance between us. I felt the question more than I heard it.

“Yeah.” I replied in a whisper. “I am.”

A lopsided smile warped his features, as his arm reached behind to place his car keys on the windowsill. He reached up to fondle my face, gently guiding my chin up just so I looked into his eyes. “I wish I could tell you how happy it made me to hear that, but I think perhaps I'd be better showing you in another way...”

He was still cradling my face as his head dipped down. My eyes shut expectantly, but I felt his lips touch my forehead first… and then my cheek… and my nose. Softly, unhurriedly… as if he was savoring the anticipation. A pant of desire formed in my throat, so visceral I couldn't keep it to myself—I let it out, and only then did his mouth move away from my skin, lowering to press against my lips.

A shaky breath left the both of us as our lips wringed together, blending as one. His scent enveloped me, penetrating deep into my senses. He tasted like warm chocolate and tobacco – intense and beyond compare… just like his kiss,

And I needed more of it.

It’s why I twisted my fingers through the loops of his jeans and pulled him closer. “Mm, fuck…” Harry groaned, blindly goading me backwards so he would pin me against the door. His hips rutted against mine instinctively, while mine rocked back persuasively. “Eager, aren't you? Am I making you feel good?”

I whispered, low and lewd against his mouth. “You’re a great kisser.”

“It's your mouth bringing it out of me. So… fucking… sweet.” He drew his other hand up to my jaw as well, holding it whilst his lips carried on tasting mine in between each muttered word. “I want to give you that orgasm… It's driving me mad, it’s all I can think about…”

“Yeah..? You think you have what it takes?” I teased, causing his hands to drop from my face and grip at my hips instead. And the next time his rolled over mine, he did it to let me know he had that and more.

“I'll give you as many as you want, I can promise you that. A gorgeous, lovely girl like you won't be leaving my bed unsatisfied.”

“And where’s that bed at, exactly?”

Our lips remained glued together as he guided me out of the hall, until our bodies melted away into the darkness of the corridor. We bumped into a few things here and there, but honestly I didn't even feel the impacts - my body was too focused on the desire Harry was making me feel.

He walked me backwards into his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. The curtains were open, and the streetlight illuminated the room enough - bathing it in stark shades of yellow and orange. I was too distracted to notice the decor details, but I noticed he had some interesting posters and art pop prints on the walls, a television on top of the wooden dresser that must have been inherited from his grandfather, tacky curtains like mine... frankly I noticed a lot, except that his bed was a mattress on the floor – Until I tripped and fell on top of it.

Harry came down with me, falling on his knees between my legs. “Pretty and clumsy… could you get any cuter, Tracy Turner?” He smiled, leaning over to bump his nose on mine. “Are you okay? Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No.” I giggled, “Just my tush, but it’s gone now...”

“Oh,” He chuckled, whilst carefully urging me up in the mattress to lean back against his pillows. “‘S a shame it’s gone… I was starting to look forward to kissing it better…” He teased, leaning over further until his body encircled mine from above. My breath caught in my throat at the sudden proximity, and his proposition. No one had ever offered to kiss me there, but I would let Harry if he wanted to – Hell, I would probably let him do anything he wanted at this point. “Guess that means I’ll still get to kiss your perfect mouth some more, so I can’t say I mind.”

I could feel Harry’s hips recommencing their rubbing against mine – gradually increasing the friction as our breaths became more labored with desire. He was taking his time though… we were both still fully clothed, and his hands and mouth hadn't gone any lower than my neck yet,

It surprised me.

Any other guy would have tried to strip my clothes off the moment I got into their bed, but Harry hadn’t – He was simply enjoying the moment for what it was and making the most of it… and frankly, that was turning me on immensely.

I'd never been the kind of girl to make the first move, but I felt like I was on the edge of exploding from want if I didn’t. I wanted more. I needed more, so I started to strip him off his jacket… and failed to stifle a laugh once he looked at me and smirked knowingly. “What?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“No, it’s nothing.” He chuckled against my mouth, pulling the jacket the rest of the way off his body. My hands roamed around his chest as our lips touched. I could feel warmth under his heartbeats. Reactive flesh too - what had me eager to remove the remainder of his clothes. My hands rose beneath the hem of his shirt… dragging it up and shedding it off. Longing to get closer. To see more. To feel more.

His body shape was different than I’d imagined – unmistakably beautiful, but different. Most of his strength seemed to be stored around his chest and abdomen. He looked fit, but still felt soft around the edges. The lax in his posture made him curve forward, as if he was made to hug, to nest.

His hands reached for the waistband of my skirt, untucking my turtleneck blouse from under it. I giggled once the neckband got stuck over my nose momentarily as he peeled it off. I shook the unruly hairs away from my eyes, and once I could see again, I found Harry looking at me. Not just at my bare chest - at me. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, tracing my jaw with his fingertips. I took a heavy inbreath as I felt his touch outline the round contours of my neck and breasts.

“So are you.” I breathed feebly, using the tips of my fingers to limn over his torso the same way his did over mine. “Harry… I need you-”

“I know, sweet girl. I know.” He said, slanting us back down over the mattress. His hands loosened up the rest of the buttons down the front of my skirt, until it snapped open at the middle. Leaving my pastel pink underwear exposed through my thin nylon pantyhose.

Desperate, I lifted my bum up for Harry to strip me off them, but he had other plans. He bent down to taste my mouth again, and from my lips, his trailed an invisible path down my ribs, suckling on my breasts… circling my belly button… leaving me breathless and leaky until he reached my knees, where he began to unzip my boots.

Once those were off, he flipped me to lay on my belly, and my ass immediately rose in the air. I wanted him to rip my stockings apart and penetrate me right there without further delay.

I wasn’t normally like this, but Harry was leaving me beside myself. The ringing inside my skull was a mantra for more. More, more, more. I wanted more of him. I wanted him inside. I needed him to fill me.

The sound of his belt unbuckling was enough to make me moan softly, “Harry, please… I’m all sticky…”

“Fuck baby… That- that’s good. That’s how I want you…” My back arched up higher in response, and I nodded in agreement from where my head laid against the mattress.

Only then did he move to peel my stockings down… and still, he halted. Once he had them rucked halfway down my thighs. “You're spotting…” He muttered in amusement. I couldn't see it, but I could definitely sense it. The center of my panties felt icy in contrast to the heat throbbing beneath them. I whimpered when his thumb came to caress me there, pressing the wet fabric into my opening. “I’ll give you what you want, pretty girl… but I want my mouth between your legs first. I want that stickiness coating my tongue.”

“Are you- Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.

It wasn’t the first time I would be trying that… but usually guys only did it if they couldn’t get me wet enough otherwise, never just because they wanted to, or because it felt good for me. Harry wanted to though, I could tell from the way his blown pupils were eclipsing through the green in his eyes. And from the edge in his voice when he spoke next, “Sure of what? That I want to taste your pussy? Babe, my mouth was watering thinking about it before I even got to kiss you...”

He prod my legs together, reaching to slide my bottom clothes the rest of the way down. I felt him lie on his stomach between my legs, so I spread them further apart. “…You’re this gorgeous down here too? How’s that fair, hm? Trying to make me burst in my pants?”

“Noo… don’t stare!” I stressed, feeling my cheeks warm. “I haven’t- trimmed in a while…”

“Hush, love. Just... relax, okay? Let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah okay. I’ll try to…I’ll try to- Ohh! Harry-” I groaned once his mouth hedged my pussy. The feeling I got from getting licked in this position was… unlike any other I’d felt lying on my back. My lips were spread-open, leaving my bud unsheltered and more susceptible to the advances of his tongue.

And gosh, it was advancing without any apprehension. Harry’s face was practically buried in my pussy. Kissing it… licking it… making me moan out his name, just for him to grunt out my own in return.

“God, you taste so good…” He muttered as he pulled away, breathing shallowy. “Do you want me to go inside you? Would that feel good?”

“Yes!” I gasped, not bothering to try and disguise my enthusiasm. “Yes. Yes, Harry. Inside would feel so good.”

“Okay but- Let’s just turn around first, yeah? I wanna see your pretty face while it goes in.” I flipped onto my back, just in time to catch the moment Harry zipped down his jeans. He was so hard that his tip was peeking through the waistband of his jockey briefs. I swallowed thickly. I had always turned up my nose at colorful men's underwear... but heck, if my opinion wasn’t changing drastically before my eyes...

His cock bobbed freely once he stripped himself out of the orange, stripy fabric. His head was ruddy and glossy with precum, the base thick, with a slightly aslant curve to the right that stood out in the midst of his bush. “He’s all-right, isn’t he?” Harry joked when he noticed my fazed looking.

“He- well, he is…” I laughed, then extended my arm. “Come here…” He crawled back over the mat, to hover on top of me. “It's perfect. And looks like it'll feel really good...”

“It will. It will feel so good...” He kissed me again, transferring my own scent from his lips to mine. “I’ll make it feel so good...” I licked myself off his tongue without shame, soaking up my juices like I did to his spit. I felt his arm raise over my head, but it was the noise of a vase being stirred that ultimately made me pull away to see what he was up to.

“Really? A vase? That’s where you keep your condoms?”

“Well… it keeps them at hand, doesn’t it”

I bit my lip once I saw him kneel and rip the package open. “Yeah, I suppose it does…” I answered at last, watching with curious eyes as he tugged his foreskin back and unrolled the rubber over himself, giving a few testy pumps to make sure we were safe before drawing nearer and nudging his plump tip at my entrance.

His gaze sought mine, waiting for my consent. “You can.” I gasped needily at the feeling of my wetness getting smeared around by him before his hips edged forward, slowly pushing inside me. I moaned at the wholeness. It was a wholeness that didn't hurt like it usually always did at first. No. It was all pleasure this time. Pure bodily pleasure, and it felt so, so good.

“Fuck… it fit so right.” Harry groaned softly, voicing my exact thought as well. “Tell me how to make love to you, baby… I’ll fuck you just the way you like.”

“Harry… please can you- can you move?” I asked, or practically pleaded. “You feel so good and I feel- I feel like I’m already close…”

“Christ… Yes. Yes, I’ll move. I’ll do anything… just- keep holding me like you are, okay? I’ll take care of you.” My nails grazed his back as his hips began to sway, keeping him close. His thrusts felt trained – they made me feel full, but not overly so. He was moving just so his tip brushed upwards inside me, reaching a spot that was making my toes curl with each pump. “Feels good like this?” Harry made a point of asking, wanting to be sure.

“Yes! God, yes. Keep- Keep going like that.”

“Yeah? You like it like that?” He rutted his hips just so his cock pressed deeper into my wetness, although his pace remained the same – unhurried, ponderous, and intense. “Are you going to cum if I keep going like that?”

“Yeah. I- I think so…” I said honestly because I felt like I was. Each gentle squeeze in of Harry within my insides pumped up my internal crescendo, that tingled with growing need. My face clung to the base of his neck. I mewled.

“That's it baby... just feel it. Feel me. Focus on how good it feels… You’re so good for me too... so soft… so warm.”

With my face still tucked into his neck, I wrapped my arms around him too. “H-Harry…” I called his name, as my fingers painted pink rivers across his shoulder blades.

“I know, …Fuck. I know.” He comforted me through my moans, kissing my hair and increasing his pace. I could feel my hips punctually jolting up into his, ruled by all the sensations arcing from the places where our skins thoroughly connected… and then it happened.

My orgasm. It happened.

And it was… mind-blowing. My head felt void as it tilted back against the mattress. My jaw went ajar, and a hoarse whine came through. Harry’s hips stuttered at the sudden grasp of my pussy massaging his cock all over, but he didn't budge until he was sure I had borne every stroke of pleasure he’d bestowed on me.

I whimpered when Harry’s movements came to a sudden halt as he detached himself from me, leaving me tortuously empty. He let out a breathy laugh before leaning to kiss me tenderly. “I'm giving it to you again. Just give me a second…” He laughed, then let out a long breath. “Alright… I think we're good to go again.” He told me, and then asked, “Do you wanna get on your belly like before? With your bum a little raised?”

I smiled eagerly at the suggestion, rolling into a facedown position and raising my hips slightly for him. “Christ…” He murmured at the sight, before settling on top of me. “This one’s a killer for me, so I won't promise I can give it to you like this for long… but I could tell from earlier that you like it too and I want to provide that for you...”

“I don’t mind if you don’t last… it's your turn to cum now. I want to do it in the way that feels best for you.”

Harry grunted against the back of my neck before kissing. “If there's one thing I want you focusing on right now, it's in not saying those filthy little things when I'm about to enter you. Understand?”

“Mhm... Sorry daddy. I won’t do it again.” I said teasingly, guessing it would get him going just like it did to most guys.

“Fuck…” Harry groaned lowly, proving my point as he guided the cock in his stroking hand against my entrance again. “Scoot that bum up, sweet thing. Let me mount you.”

I moaned once his cock set back in its place inside me. It fit snugger and deeper in this position, but the fullness was, once again, nothing but pleasant. One of his arms wrapped itself around my chest to hold me, while the other went down between my legs, so his hand could reach my hardened up clit. His fingers swirled over it. “One more…” Harry’s deep voice breathed against my ear. “Can you?”

“I-Yeah…yeah, I can.” My voice sounded breathy, shaken by his snappy thrusts. “Mm… harder. Hold me harder.” I pleaded, clutching onto his forearm that swaddled my chest. Keeping me close while his pelvis rammed into me from behind. I was stuck to him. Feeling sheltered and safe, but also… small… and bound. That was what was getting me there: the animalistic notion that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was under him. Being made to take whatever he chose to give me.

I shut my eyes and focused on where Harry was hitting that spot, just like he had told me to do before. My walls fluttered around his length moving inside me, making him moan above me. “Come for me again, Tracy.” He urged, panting against the back of my ear. I could feel a pulse roaring from my belly up to my eardrums. “My sweet, pretty girl… Come for me.”

My body tuned in to his request.

My sex spasmed as I climaxed once more, engulfing Harry’s in a beating pad of heat and softness. The raw cry of pleasure that escaped my chest, got quieted by his lips, that dipped down to kiss me as my head tilted back against his chest. “So good… So. Fucking. Good!” He drawled amidst his kisses, forcing his hips to slow whilst we both relished on the waves of my pleasure. “Can I make myself finish too?” Harry questioned against the sticky skin of my forehead. His despair as palpable on the weakened voice in which he spoke, as it was in the pulsing shaft inside me.

“Yeah.” I replied, slightly appalled that he’d even think to ask. “Yeah, please do.”

My body felt soft and pliant once his arms held me close. The creaminess between my thighs bolstering the heaviness of his thrusts as he proceeded to drive into me again. “Aah... you’re making me – ngh. I’m gonna–” His flow began to lose precision. Hips skipping a few whacks in between moans and groans until he met his release at last. His cock slammed fully into me, and he groaned - satisfied once it began to throb, pumping white ooze inside the rubber.

He clung to me in his high, allowing his chest to press fully onto my back for a moment. I welcomed the added weight pining me to the mattress. It felt good… like a warm, heavy blanket to fall asleep under. And I think I would have, had Harry not turned us over so we were facing each other.

“That was…” He puffed his cheeks, through a weary smile. “Shit. Hold on… Let me just-” He got up to discard the condom, and I rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes.

I knew I should probably start getting dressed, but there wasn’t a single part of my body that wanted out of the bubble I was living in lying in Harry’s bed on the floor. A bubble that grew thicker and twice its size once he came to lay back down beside me and pulled me in for a cuddle. “It was really good.” I replied to what he started earlier, smiling sheepishly against his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He ran his fingers over my arm, smiling back. “Good enough to make you want to stay over?”

“Do you want me to?” I asked, biting back a smile.

“Yeah, of course.” He openly admitted, breathing in the moment before speaking again. “I really like you, Tracy Turner… and I wouldn't be saying this if it wasn't true.” His fingers combed through my hair. “I'd like to see you again… regardless of whether we have sex again or not.”

I reached up to fondle his tousled brown curls as well. They were soft and inviting to the touch. “When?”

“You mean when after tomorrow morning?” He joked, like he was already assuming I was staying the night. I never corrected him. “Whenever you want or can. I don’t want to pressure you, I’m just… trying to let you know where I’m at.”

“Okay.” I moved closer, snuggling into his chest. “I’ll see you again...”

“After tomorrow morning?”