Overnight Sensation(7)

Silas sort of parks Heidi’s floppy body against mine, the way you’d lean a bicycle up against a tree. “Nighty-night, kids.” He and Bayer walk off, chuckling to themselves.

“Now,” I say. “You’ve had a little too much to drink, missy. Where can I take you?”

She lifts her chin, and her lips brush the underside of my jaw. “Wherever you’re goin’.”

“That sounds like a very fun time,” I admit with a sigh. “But let’s have a little chat.” I steer her into a chair and sit down beside her. “Now tell me your Manhattan address.”

“Nope!” She punctuates this with a burp. “I thought you were hitting on me. I really did.”

“Oh, I was,” I say, rubbing a hand in slow circles over her back. I’d like to undress her slowly and worship every inch of her. Some other night, though. “We’re gonna have to have a raincheck.”

“But I can’t go home like this. It won’t go over well.”

“Why?”

“Daddy.” She makes a face. “I might as well wear a sign that says, I’m the fuckup you accuse me of being.” Then she claps a hand over her mouth. “I don’t usually drop f-bombs. That was pretty fun, though.” She giggles. “Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck…” Hiccup.

She’s getting drunker by the second. It’s alarming. I don’t really want her father flipping out at me, either. He sounds like a real piece of work. “Okay—here’s what we’re going to do. I think you’ll fit really nicely on my sofa bed.” I stand up and offer her my hand.

“Ooh!” she says. “Netflix and chill! And then the dirty sex!”

Pete the bartender gives a snort of laughter from behind the bar. “Got your hands full, there, I see.”

“Literally.” Heidi is standing again, but barely. I balance her against my chest and unlock my Katt phone. “Can you grab a car for me?”

“Can I touch your phone?” Heidi asks suddenly. “I want to fondle it. They don’t give the intern a Katt phone.”

“Later,” I promise.

Pete laughs as he opens the ride-share app and summons a car for me. “Two minutes.” He passes me the phone. “And let me pull your bar tab.”

I’m using both hands to keep Heidi stable. “Can you just sign that, too? We’ll be outside. Night, man.”

“Take care.” The older man says something quietly under his breath, and it might have been, “And better luck next time.”

At least the car shows up on time. I steer Heidi into the back seat with me. “Last chance to let me take you home to Manhattan.”

She shakes her head vehemently.

Right.

“Okay. Water and Bridge Street, then.”

“Where’s that?” Heidi asks. Her eyes are closed.

“My place.”

Heidi lifts her head and does an awkward fist pump. “Wow. Yes!”

That seems like a lot of enthusiasm for sleeping on my couch. But whatever.

On second thought, I wonder if I’m supposed to take the fold-out couch. I am a gentlemen. But I’m also six-three, and she’s at least a foot shorter. She’d totally fit on my sofa...

These are my thoughts as Heidi stirs beside me. Even with her limited dexterity, she’s able to climb into my lap. And then kisses me very sloppily on the corner of my mouth.

“Whoa, Nellie!” I pull my head back. “None of that.”

“But I can’t wait,” she says in a breathy voice. “Finally…” She leans in again.

I weave out of the way, like a prizefighter trying not to get punched. “Um, when I said we were going to my place, I just meant—”

“Sex!” Heidi says, her warm body settling more firmly onto mine. “Dirty, filthy sex. Sweaty, clawing, pounding, burn-your-soul-to-the-ground sex!”

I let out a groan of frustration.

But my drunken companion misinterprets it. “You’re going to really fuck me, right?” she asks, blinking at close range.

Parts of me rise up and cheer. “Maybe. But not tonight.”

“Please,” she says breathlessly. “Boys are always too polite with me. The ones who’ll date me are afraid of Daddy. I’m starting to think that polite sex is worse than no sex at all.”

I’m wondering—who the fuck is her daddy? Maybe Heidi is a mob princess. Maybe her father controls all the gambling in Brooklyn or runs guns in Jersey.

“What’s polite sex like?” asks the driver. “Just asking. For science.”

“It’s too gentle,” Heidi says, relaxing against my chest. “Too sweet. Maybe I just attract the wrong kind of man. I need to know if headboards banging against the wall is a real thing.”

“Oh, they bang,” I say with a sigh.

A small hand runs up my chest and then back down. Then fingers dip beneath the hem of my T-shirt. “You’re so…hard,” she says dreamily.

You have no idea.

“How soon ‘til we get there?” she asks, her lips coasting up my cheek. “Someone wrote on the ladies’ room wall that you like to tie women up when you have sex. Will you show me?”

“Damn,” the driver comments from the front seat. “Can I come, too?”