Painted Faces

  Nicholas and I stare at each other, our eyes connected like never before, and all I can think is that he looks positively furious with me and I fucking love this man. He just saved me from getting killed or severely injured because of my own drunken idiocy. And I love him. Love him. Oh God.

  “Fuck,” he swears.

  “You saved me,” I gasp.

  “You're drunk.”

  “So are you.”

  “Shut up, Fred. That was a stupid thing to do.” He's seething, seething like I've never seen him seethe before.

  “What? You were running along with me. I could hear you laughing with Bob and Bobby.”

  “I wasn't fucking laughing. They were laughing. I was shouting at Bobby to stop the cart.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh is bloody right.”

  His face is hard, but then when he looks at me again it softens. He gently pulls me up and out of the cart, just as Bobby comes running over to us apologising like a maniac.

  Nicholas throws some cutting words her way and she visibly pales.

  “I'm fine, I'm fine,” is all I can remember mumbling to her repeatedly as Nicholas somehow manoeuvres my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck to give me a piggy back ride to the hotel. We lose Bob and Bobby somewhere along the way, and although they were sort of fun, I can't say I'll miss them.

  The electricity still hasn't been properly restored, but thankfully the hotel's generator has kicked in so we don't have to fumble around in the dark trying to find our room. Nicholas flicks on the light and carries me straight into the bathroom. He settles me down on the closed toilet seat and then goes to turn on the shower. I let my head fall back against the wall behind me, because it feels too heavy to hold up on my own.

  I focus on the noise of the shower head, as water gushes out of it. Nicholas comes to kneel in front of me and methodically begins removing my clothes. He starts with my boots and knee high purple socks, before moving onto my dress. I watch him and I can tell that he isn't anywhere near as drunk as I am. His eyes are too focused. I'm going to be so embarrassed about all of this in the morning.

  When he has my dress off he stands me up and unhooks my bra, then he works my knickers down my legs. He guides me into the shower and I stand under the water. He yanks off his own clothes, lightning fast, and comes to join me.

  What happens next kind of knocks me for six. He washes me, shampoos my hair and soaps my body with such care that it makes my heart ache. He doesn't try to make it sexual except for when he kisses me under the hot stream of water as though he's trying to memorize every corner of my mouth with his tongue.

  We get out and he wraps us both in a big towel. He hands me a toothbrush with some toothpaste on it and I brush my teeth while he brushes his. We haven't breathed a word since we got back to the hotel room. When we're done we climb under the covers, completely naked. I would never be brave enough to sleep with him naked if I weren't plastered. But I am, so I do. I fall asleep to the smell of his clean skin and the feel of his hard body wrapped around my soft one.

  When I wake up my legs are tangled with Nicholas' and he is sporting one hell of a morning boner. It's early and the events of last night come crashing down on me in startling detail. It had indeed been me who'd convinced Bobby to let me get into the cart while she pushed me down a hill. For some reason I'd thought it was a fabulous idea at the time.

  Nicholas had told me that he'd kill me if I stepped foot in the cart, but I hopped in too quickly for him to stop me and shouted at Bobby to start pushing me. She was drunk enough to oblige, laughing excitedly as Nicholas chased after us. We probably wouldn't have been so dead set on it if he hadn't given us chase.

  And Jesus, now I can remember my thoughts from last night too, when I'd come to the realisation that I love Nicholas. All it took was for him to save me from being mangled by a car.

  But I know that's not the only reason why I love him. I love him because he makes me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. I love him because he challenges my view of what a man is. I love him because I know I shouldn't love him and that he'll break my heart. I love him because he's a complete and total anomaly. I love him because I want to kill the sadness inside him more than I want anything else in the world.

  While I'm drowning in these thoughts of love, Nicholas stirs beside me. His arms are tight around my waist and my face is pressed into the hollow of his neck. I move my lips against his skin, giving him a good morning kiss. We are both stark naked, and it feels warm. I like how his body feels against mine, smooth skin and tight, ripped muscles. We're complementary opposites.

  “Morning,” I whisper, just as he's opening his eyes.

  It takes him a moment to realise that I'm in bed with him and we both have nothing on, but once he does he flips me on my back and positions himself between my thighs. He reaches up and brushes my messy hair out of my face, and looks at me with a marvelling expression. He's not smiling, but he's not frowning either. He's staring at me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve.

  “What is it about you...” he trails off.

  I swallow down a gulp of saliva, because his erection is pressing against my inner thigh and I'm quivering from the inside out. When I do a little shimmy to get more comfortable beneath him he lets out a breathy groan.

  “This is...dangerous,” he says, eyes tracing the planes of my cheeks, the curve of my lips.

  “Probably,” I whisper in reply.

  He leans in closer. “I want to be inside you Freda.”

  I bite my lip. “Mm hmm.”

  “What do you want?” he asks.

  “I think I want the same as you.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters, and it comes out sounding like a vow.

  A moan escapes my lips when he nudges the head of his penis against my core. He's not even wearing a condom, but I can't think straight enough to care. It's a good thing I've been on the pill for years. He did mention to me in passing that he always wore a condom when he'd been with women in the past. I hope he was telling the truth. He takes my mouth in a soft kiss, sucking on my bottom lip, just as he pushes into me. He fills me slowly, pulling away from the kiss to stare into my eyes. I can feel the explosions again, only now they're going off deep, deep inside of me.

  “Wow,” he mouths, watching me, taking in my every expression. “You feel so tight, so good.”

  He slides himself in and out slowly for a long time. I lose track of the minutes as I fall into an abyss where there is nothing but him. We just keep holding each other's gaze like we'll die if we let it drop. I arch up into him. He curses and makes noises that I really, really like. Then something lustful takes us over. He starts moving faster until he's pounding into me and I'm gripping onto the bedsheets and crying out in pleasure.

  “Nicholas,” I moan, and he keeps going harder, faster.

  As he's fucking me he bends down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in the most beautiful way. He pulls himself up again, moving his flattened out palm over my collarbone. When he gets as far as my neck he grips it softly, like he means to choke me, but not quite. The possessive gesture makes me gasp. The fact that he's gripping me in such a vulnerable spot makes me feel his pounding even more intensely, shattering through me.

  “I love your body,” he tells me. “I love your breasts...”

  “Please,” I moan.

  “You like this?” he asks.

  “Mm hmm.”

  “I like it too.”

  “I need you,” I whisper.

  “I need you too,” he mutters.

  His breathing quickens just before he comes, pouring himself into me. He sucks on my ear lobe and plants kisses all along my neck, telling me that I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

  We lie there for ages, satiated, all limbs and skin and sweat and heaving chests.

  “I'm clean, by the way,” he says, after a long, long stretch of contented silence. “I don't want you worrying about all that stuff.
Are you...are you on the pill or anything?” He bites his bottom lip. “I'm not normally so careless, but I just really wanted to feel you without anything in the way.”

  I nod and kiss him on the chin. “Yeah, and I'm clean too, just in case you were wondering...”

  “I know you are,” he interrupts, looking at me seriously. “You are so fucking clean I don't deserve you.”

  For some reason I feel like he's not talking about my sexual health anymore.

  “Oh,” is the only reply I can come up with.

  He smiles and it lights up his entire face. “Oh,” he repeats, and then kisses me hungrily as he slips his fingers between my legs.

  “So wet,” he says, slowly circling my clit before rubbing down over my folds and back up. I tilt my hips into the bed and press my feet down on the soft mattress, as I drift away into the blissful build to orgasm.

  Over the rest of the day we barely leave the bed. We order room service and Nicholas fucks me again. Twice. I try not to think about how it feels more like making love than fucking. I feel like my body is a malleable mass of flesh and bones by the time the evening comes around and we have to get ready for his gig. He tells me he doesn't think he'll ever tire of fucking me and I want to scream that I'm in love with him. But I don't, because I don't know if he feels the same way. Perhaps this is all just lustful obsession for him, as opposed to the L word.

  I'm sipping on some tea and sitting by the window as he packs up his costume for tonight's show. I stare out the window at the passing crowds, while intermittently texting Nora about her dinner date with Richard. Apparently there was some heavy petting in the living room afterwards. I tell her she better give the couch a good dry shampooing before I get home. She texts back telling me I have my shit in bucketfuls. I laugh to myself.

  The electricity is up and running again in the city, but we still don't know what caused the black out since we spent the day in bed. I don't think I really care about the reason for it. All I know is that I'll never forget Nicholas with his hand inside my pants in the dark in that pub when we'd been surrounded by oblivious strangers.

  “You're slacking,” he teases, as he steps by me and pinches me on the nose.

  “I'm relaxing Viv, don't be such a slave driver. Didn't any of your previous assistants take a break every now and again?” I ask.

  He laughs like he has a secret, and goes to open a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner. He takes a sip and I watch the movement of his Adam's Apple as he swallows, finding it strangely seductive. God, look at me, a day of earth shattering sex and I'm finding every little thing Nicholas does a turn on. Actually, that's nothing new.

  “What's that laugh about?” I question, narrowing my gaze.

  He grins so wide you'd think somebody just told him he'd won the lottery. “Nothing,” he answers, with a coy expression.

  “Spit it out Viv, I'm not liking this secretive side.”

  He drinks some more water, his grin has died down to a smirk. “You really want to know?”

  “Yes, tell me,” I say, slamming my palms down on the upholstered arms of the chair I'm sitting on.

  He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay, but promise not to go crazy at me.”

  “I promise. Spill.”

  “I've never had an assistant before.”

  “What!?”

  “It was something of a ruse,” he grins again, this time like he's a super villain with the world's greatest plot. When he sees the expression on my face he goes on, “Now, now Fred, you promised not to go crazy.”

  “I'm perfectly sane, you're the one who's crazy. Why would you lie about having assistants?”

  He shrugs and walks across the room to stand in front of the window beside my chair. “As I said, it was a ruse.”

  “A ruse?” I question, my brow furrowed.

  “I wanted to spend more time with you, so I pretended I needed an assistant.”

  Oh my God, the scheming little...I don't know whether to be angry or flattered.

  I stand up and push him lightly on the chest with the palms of my hands. He falters back a bit, laughing at my indignation.

  “That's devious Viv, terrible. I never even suspected.”

  “I needed to get to know you. It was the perfect way, don't you think?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Hmm, I don't know about that. You could have just made friends with me and gotten to know me the normal way. It's not like you were never going to see me. I live right next door.”

  “I know that, but I kind of wanted you to be around me when I was working. That way I'd know if you liked both sides of me, the Nicholas side and the Vivica side.”

  “Okay, I'm sort of getting where you're coming from now,” I say, and go to sit back down.

  We don't speak for a minute or two. I'm still reeling with this news that he conned me into being his assistant under the false pretence that he simply couldn't get by without one. Then I feel delighted that he went through all the trouble to have me around. Then I feel wary that he can maintain a lie so easily. Then I feel grateful that he lied since I got to experience a world I never would have experienced otherwise.

  It's after another minute or two goes by that I come to my final conclusion about his little secret. “I have to say Viv, you are just too fucking cute.”

  “I'm not cute, I'm dark and sexy,” he protests with humour.

  “That too.”

  He gives me a comical little growl and then tells me to hurry up with my tea because we need to leave for the venue pronto.

  “I had a dream about you once,” I say to Nicholas as I'm brushing some blusher across his cheeks in the dressing room before his gig.

  He's sitting down and I'm standing up, which leaves him in a good position to squeeze my bottom, which is what he's doing right now.

  “Oh really? Tell me more.” He gives me a devilish grin.

  “It was a while ago, before we ever, you know kissed or anything. You had make-up on and you were wearing a bra and boxer shorts. It was weird because in my dream I found it really sexy.”

  He lets out a deep chuckle. “Are you hinting that this is something you'd like to try?”

  “No!” I exclaim loudly in embarrassment. “I was just telling you about my dream. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “You're the one who said you found it sexy; what am I supposed to take from that?”

  I shake my head. “That's not why I told you. I told because of what you said at the hotel about needing to know that I like the Nicholas side of you and the Vivica side. I think the dream was kind of symbolic that I do like both sides of you.”

  “Stop Fred, you're making me blush,” he pinches my bottom and I let out a yelp before slapping his hand away.

  “In that case I might as well forget about this then,” I say, moving to put the blusher brush away.

  “Don't be cheeky,” he says, pulling me back and raising my wrist to his face. He uses my hand holding the brush to put it on his own cheekbones, while staring at me adoringly.

  I pull the brush away and toss it into the make-up case. “There you go Viv, you're all beautified. Now go give them a show to remember.”

  He whispers his lips across my jaw and gives me a smouldering look, which works just as well in his Vivica outfit as it would in his normal clothes to make me melt. It doesn't matter what he's wearing. I like the him that's underneath the clothes and the painted face. I'd like him no matter what he wore.

  When he's gone I look back at myself in the mirror, and there's a little streak of red lipstick across my jaw from when he'd put his lips there. I smile and wipe it away.

  I don't go out and watch Nicholas' performance tonight, because I'm way too hung over and sore to be dealing with the noise of the crowd. After my little stunt in the shopping trolley last night I'm sporting my fair share of bruises and aching muscles.

  I stay in the dressing room, flicking through some magazines and drinking herbal tea in the hopes that it will someho
w cure my thumping head. When Nicholas emerges through the doorway after his show he stands there with a heated expression on his face.

  I'm wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt, so I don't really get why he's looking at me the way he is, like I'm lying naked across the dressing table or something. He prowls toward me, slipping off his heels as he does so.

  I back up in my chair. “Hey now Viv, don't be getting any ideas about my circumstance,” I say to him jokingly.

  “Too late, I have way too many ideas about your circumstance to be deemed healthy,” he says, just before he lifts me up out of my chair and places my bottom down on the surface of the dressing table.

  He pulls my legs apart and holds them on either side of his hips. Then he leans forward to kiss me fiercely and I'm done for. I reach up and pull the black wig off his head and then fumble with the zipper on the back of his dress. When I have it open I push down the shoulder straps and pull him closer to suck on his collarbone.

  He shimmies out of the dress and kicks it halfway across the room.

  He unbuttons the top of my jeans and shoves his hand down my pants. I gasp loudly while his other hand pulls my t-shirt off over my head and unsnaps my bra in a matter of milliseconds. He bends down and takes my nipple into his mouth. I look down at him, his face smeared with make-up and his mouth on me, and I don't think I've ever seen a more erotic sight.

  He stands back and begins pulling down my jeans as I do the same to the tights he's wearing. I hear the sound of material ripping just before I realise that he's torn my knickers off me in his hunger to get me naked. I'm too turned on to be irritated by that and a second later his cock is pushing hard inside of me and I'm gripping onto his shoulders, practically clawing at his skin with my fingernails.

  My eyes are focused on his strong neck when I hear him say, “Look at me Fred.”

  I look at him, losing myself in his bright blue eyes. His body moves and I try to maintain my balance on the dressing table. He lifts me up and slams me into the nearby wall, still pounding into me as I cry out. The music out in the club is loud; loud enough so that nobody can hear me screaming.