TAKE MY HAND

4

VIOLET

My skin shines from the thin layer of sweat, my legs still trembling from the orgasm. Only Phillip can make the euphoria last this long. I'm laying on the couch in my studio, letting the waves of pleasure course through my veins. He's standing, buttoning his shirt back up. He still hasn't gotten me a towel to wipe the cum from my chest.

"Here," He says finally, handing me one covered in paint water. It's enough, I guess.

I drag my eyes over to him and take it with weak fingers. He watches me try to wipe the substance off my chest before taking the towel from my hands and doing it himself. Phillip was a master at casual dominance. Whether it was his hand on the small of my back while we walked or speaking for me at dinner, he always made me feel like his princess.

"I need to get home soon. Make that dinner we talked about," I murmur, pulling my underwear back on. He thinks for a moment and pulls on his suit jacket.

"I...uh...I found this new place. By the old Radioshack-"

"Phillip, how old do you think I am? We can't all look that good at forty-seven like you," I smirk, reaching for the rest of my clothes.

"Can I continue, please?" He asks, rolling his eyes. I nod and feel my cheeks redden and heat up. "But there's a restaurant there now and I feel like trying it out. Wanna join me?"

Phillip and I have gone to dinner before. Throughout the casual sex relationship we've had, there have been drunken plans of eating as many hamburgers as we can before shouting "FUCK IT" and making out. Those nights were always my favorite. They're usually followed by a serious talk, lead by Phillip, explaining that we will never have a future and that he just likes having fun with me.

I've learned a couple lessons from these nights of fun:

1.) Don't bring up the future during or after.

2.) Never turn them down.

•••

My eyes dance over the walls of the small restaurant, the delicate fairy lights lining the ceilings. It's elegant, yet cozy. A part of me wonders if he thought of me when he saw it; maybe he even planned a date here with me and rehearsed our conversation in his head. He probably didn't, but who says a girl can't dream.

"It's nice, huh?" He smiles, leaning into his chair across from me. I nod and rub the soft napkin between my fingers to keep me grounded.

"How'd you even find it? This isn't exactly your scene," I ask, dragging my eyes back to him. He thinks for a moment and cocks his sharp jaw.

"A friend of mine recommended it awhile ago so I checked it out and thought you'd like it. Did you see the pad thai on the menu yet? It's good," He clears his throat and quickly looks down at the menu. I know him well enough to tell when he thinks things are getting too real. I'd press further, but I know it's no use ruining a fine night because of my fairy tales.

We spend a few moments in a comfortable silence, my stomach not antsy enough to make things awkward. The menu is fantastic and I find myself getting lost in it the way my dad did when we went out to eat. He's a chef and owns his own pizza parlor back home in Chicago. He'd love it here, but he'd have another heart attack if he knew I was here with Phillip.

They were best friends in high school. I met Phillip at their 25th reunion when I was nineteen. We had sex in an empty classroom.

"How's work?" I ask, my voice gentle and submissive. He looks up and sighs.

"I had to fire a guy today for grabbing Sarah's chest."

"Which one is Sarah?"

"I think you met her when I brought you to that work thing. Red hair? Always in a braid? Either way, she came to me and even if she way making it up- not that she would- I'd have still fired him."

"Why?"

"He's just...a dick."

I giggle and smile at him, his eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile of his own to match mine. I sip my glass of water and rest my chin on my hand, propping my elbow on the table.

"Don't you think it'll 'ruin his life being labeled as a predator'?" I ask, watching him close. He snorts and shakes his head.

"I honestly hope it does. I've done bad things and whistled at girls before and..." His eyes look me over and I can tell he's thinking of me. "But it's never like that. And the only way I can make up for it, I guess, is helping out where I can."

"My hero," I smirk lazily. He rolls his eyes and sips his glass of water.

"What about you? How's the gallery?" He asks. A part of my brain thinks he's just asking to ask. That he doesn't care like I do.

"It's the same," I answer, a tight smile plastered onto my lips. His face falls slightly.

"Violet, what?" He says softly. I shake my head and look back at him.

"You don't...have to ask me that," I sigh.

"Damn right I don't," He chuckles, reaching across the table to hold my hand in his. His palms are smooth and creamy against my knuckles and I crave more.

"Work is fine but exhausting," I murmur, lacing my fingers between his. His movements hesitate and he pulls his hand back into a fist. He looks down and fixes his napkin in his lap.

"That's..a bit much don't you think?" He says, his voice low. I frown and watch him.

"What? Me holding your hand? You fucking started it," I reply, my cheeks hot.

"Can you not make a scene?" He snaps, raising his eyebrows. I laugh sadly and stand with my purse.

"Bye, Phillip. Thanks for the water."