Screwed

Chapter 2

Luna

His eyes widened at my words.

"I'm perfectly clean," he hissed, and walked around the bar to stop in front of me. "You'd better leave now," he added.

"I need to explain. I need help. Please," I said. He must've heard the desperation in my voice because he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Spill."

Taking a deep breath, I fixed my glasses and tried to find my courage. My mouth suddenly went dry. I grabbed the small glass of water from the bar, not caring whose it was, before gulping it down. The moment I tasted the thing, I knew it wasn't water. It burned like hell and before I could stop myself, I spit the alcohol all over his chest.

"What the-" he exclaimed at the same moment I yelled, "This isn't water!"

He grabbed my arm, almost gently, even though he looked angry, and dragged me toward the exit. "Okay, you're leaving," he hissed.

"Wait. I need an orgasm, okay? Everyone thinks you're the best guy to see about that in this stupid town. You may be my only chance!" I blurted out as fast as I could in hopes that he would stop and listen.

"Didn't you say I must have STDs just a minute ago?"

"I still think you do, but that's not my business. I need you to help me. Show me how to get a date and hopefully and then hopefully that will lead to an orgasm. That's all I need."

He stopped in his tracks just when we got outside the bar.

"So you want me to help you score a guy?"

"Score? Is that what it's called?"

He rolled his eyes at me, while shaking his head.

"Look, I'm not some kind of life coach, okay? Yes, I'm good with woman. I can make them see stars and I can give it to you, but I can't promise the same from other guys out there," he said.

I frowned. Did he just offer me sex? Pity sex?

Stomping my foot on the floor, I groaned in frustration, "I don't want you. I just want your help!"

This time he frowned. It almost looked as if he was hurt by what I said. Straightening his back, he continued to argue with me, "You don't want me?" He snorted before adding, "Everyone wants me, little girl."

"Well, I don't. You're not my type. Just help me score a guy and I'll be out of your hair."

He shook his head. "No."

"No what? No you can't or no you don't want to?"

"Oh, I can. I can make you desirable to every man in this town. It'll take some doing, but I can."

I smiled, "So you will?"

He grinned. "Nope. I won't."

Fixing my glasses again, I tried to stop the tick in my leg from anger.

"But, why?" I asked.

He laughed, but there was no humor in it, "You're asking why? Let's think... you accused me of having STDs, you spit tequila on me, and now you're acting like I'm some kind of compass to your orgasm. Not a good start."

I worried my bottom lip. I was desperate. In this small town, I didn't have many options, and according to all the gossip I'd heard in my store, and from other girls, this guy knew what he was doing.

I decided to take a step back. "I'm sorry. Look, I really need an orgasm, okay? I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I just... can't do it. I'm trying the methods I found on internet, but it's no help. Maybe I'm broken"

"Too much information," he interrupted my speech.

I sighed. "Anyway. And I can't just go and talk to guys. I don't know how to do it-"

"You came and talked to me," he cut me again.

"It's not the same. I'm not planning on dating or fucking you," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "We're back to this again."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is... you really, really need to help me. Every girl deserves an orgasm right?"

He frowned. "Wait, you're saying that you've never..."

I shook my head.

"Fuck."

I smiled again with renewed hope, "So you're going to help me? I promise I can pay you for your services."

"I don't want your money," he hissed.

"Okay. We can figure out something else as payment. So what do you say?"

He opened his mouth to probably give me a negative answer, but I didn't let him this time. Grabbing a Sharpie from my sweatpants pocket, I attacked his chest. It seemed like the best surface to write my number in the moment.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, but didn't push me away. At least he wasn't one of those douchebags who push and pull women.

"Writing my number. You can at least think about it," I said and finished writing my number.

He had a good chest, I thought. And he smelled nice.

"Did you just sniff me?"

I shrugged and pet his shoulder. "Thank you for your time. I really hope we can work together. Have a good night," I said before turning to leave.

I could feel his gaze on my back, his face probably still had that confused expression on it; but I didn't turn back to see. Instead, I smiled, sending positive vibes into the universe that he'd accept my offer.

I really, really needed him to.