Devilish Intimacy (Otis Driftwood x OFC)

Chapter 4

Otis's last words gave me something to think over. What did that mean? Did he want me here permanently like Baby did? As much as I desired to be a part of Otis's life, I couldn't ditch Charlie. He had been way too good to me for me to do something like that to him. Besides, I was his best girl. Folks lined up for my services. If I left, it would hurt his pockets. Shaking my head, I decided to worry about it later.

Standing up, I wandered around the room and absorbed all the drawings on Otis's walls. I discovered there were phrases written between his scribblings, mostly biblical passages from the Book of Revelations and anti-government messages. My name was scrawled in more than a few spots as well.

I ran my fingertip over a sentence he had scratched onto his headboard with the tip of a knife. It read, 'I am the devil, and I am here to do the devil's work.'

A Polaroid photo was lying face down next to Otis's handiwork. Picking it up, I flipped it over. I gasped at an image of myself, asleep and naked in my bed in my real bedroom at the Fun House, not one of the rooms I used for services. My hair was a mess and hickeys cluttered my neck. Otis was the only man who had ever been in my personal bedroom beside Charlie. That was how he knew about my gruesome collection. He must have taken the photo the last time he had been there. Charlie had been pissed about the hickeys the next day. His words echoed in my head.

"That's bad fer business, baby! Clients wanna be with someone who ain't marked up! They want someone fresh!"

I had cowered immediately. My last boss would have smacked the shit out of me or hit me bloody. Charlie had held up his hands in a peace offering.

"Relax, now. Ya know I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'd never do that. Happy Boy, on the other hand..."

Otis's footsteps and the deadbolt sliding into place brought me out of the memory. He came up behind me and closed his arms around my waist. "Wha'cha doin', baby?" He ran the tip of his tongue around the outline of my ear and pressed his groin into my ass, making me shiver.

"You have a picture o' me?" I held it up so he could see it.

"Sure as fuck do," he said smugly. "I used yer Polaroid last time I was there. It was just sittin' there on yer dresser so I took advantage o' the situation."

Laying the photo down, I turned around and placed my hands on his chest. "Charlie gave me hell fer those hickeys." I giggled.

"Fuck that nutsack. He can kiss my snow white, puckered asshole. I'll leave my fuckin' mark on ya if I wanna. What the fuck's he gonna do?" Otis sneered, his eyes flashing. "He ain't gonna do shit."

Terry Reid's To Be Treated Rite began to play on the radio. I took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Man, Terry's hot shit right now, huh?" I tucked a strand of Otis's hair behind his ear. He relaxed under my touch, his nostrils flaring as he humphed. "Dance with me?"

"Sure, darlin'," he grumbled.

Our bodies melted together, and I laid my head against him. We swayed through most of the song, sometimes stopping just to hold each other.

🎶Oh, we are what we are when in danger

And we are as we stand head in hands

When a friend brings to light on a cold silver knife

You can stare your fate right into his hands

To his hands

Oh, we are what we are when we'll name to

Be the soul-owning guardians of land

And there's always advice on a cold winter's night

Like your dreams are just an island in the sand