Sunday

It's a Sunday," I said in a rush, stating the obvious.
"Why did you try to drug me with sleeping pills last night?" His jaw was tight.
"I can't sleep with you."
At this his eyebrows raised. "Sorry, what?"
I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth. "What I mean is, I don't entertain any of the men Bill sends me to."
"Okay, now I'm confused." He was staring at me with apprehension, his body visibly tense.
I tried to ignore him.
His gaze became appraising. "Why?"
I grimaced at him and considered turning and walking out the door without any sort of explanation — he wouldn't chase after me, not in the pouring rain, of that I was absolutely positive; he didn't strike me as the type to run after a girl in the rain just for the romantic basis of it — but instead I wrapped my tiny arms around myself and felt faintly nauseated. That was the one question I had hoped he wouldn't ask. Why? Should I lie to him? Ugh, what the hell, it wasn't like we were ever going to see each other again after the first impression I made.
I sighed, scowling at him. "Because I can't dance at all and most men want sex anyway. Even though it's not in my job description."
"You're a weird girl," he said. "But why?"
There was no avoiding this. And my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I mumbled, "Virgin."
"I'm sorry" — a brief pause — "what?"
"I'm still a virgin."
He was quiet for the longest time and then he stood tall and stared directly at my face.
"Dammit Roman, don't just stare at me like that, say something." A minute passed and he was still quiet. "Anything, please."
"You're lying," he finally mumbled. "You're a stripper."
I shrugged, not really caring whether he believed me or not.
"Can I have my money now?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to go home." I put a hand to my waist, "... why else?!"
"No, not that, suppose I pretend to believe this... preposterous idea, why are you still a virgin?"
My cheeks colored again.
"Oh please don't tell me you're waiting for marriage or some sentimental shit like that. No one does that these days."
"No."
"Then?"
"I'm waiting for the right guy."
He smirked. "Even worse." he leaned back against the bed and put his weight on his arms which were palm down on the bed, supporting him. "I think you are pedestalizing sex a bit too much by waiting for the perfect man and the perfect moment. Sex is not some sort of pristine and pure ritual. It's raw, primal and often messy. Mating is meant to relief the body."
"You're wrong."
"I'm never wrong," he pointed out. "All men, no matter what lie or act they put out on show, are after one thing — sex."
"There are still good boys out there? Men who respect women, men who aren't trash."
"You're right, none of us are trash — treasure is the word you're looking for. But I'm a man and this is free advice, take it, men can do anything to get laid and for us love springs from great sex, if a girl is good in bed then we might just fall in love. Contrary to what you might have heard a way through a man's heart is definitely not through his stomach."
"You aren't after sex, and you did just say all men, what does that say about your manhood?"
He raised his eyebrows at me. "That's the same question I've asked myself lately," he said sarcastically, looking angry.
"I'm sorry if I offended you," I said, scratching a knee, my voice glum. "I was joking. I hope you know that."
"Oh I know. And it was funny."
I rolled my eyes.
"Honest. If I was in a better mood, it would have been funny. You're funny."
"A small number of people think I'm funny," I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I seriously wonder about said people. I'm worried about your sanity."
He smiled at me, not just a smile, but a grin that touched his eyes. I leaned away from him, scrutinizing the grin further, my emotional high going skywards.
I stared, bewildered. "Oh my God!"
His eyebrows knit together. "What?"
"Did I just make you smile?"
He shrugged, but his eyes were still tender.
I sighed. "I don't believe it. Wow."
He groaned, and looked away. "Bull, does he know?"
"Nope," I sighed sadly. "He'd kill me if he found out what I was doing."
"Surprising that no one has told him yet, no?"
I nodded.
"How do you get away with it?'
"Honestly, I don't know."
"What happens when he catches you?"
"Probably make my life hell." I looked down. "Or kill my mother. See why he can't find out?"
"I suppose."
I kept my voice indifferent. "So, please, can I trust you not to tell him?"
"One last question."
"Shoot."
"Why don't you just report him to the cops?"
"He has damning evidence against mother," I said. "And if he goes to jail, he's taking her, us, with him."
"I won't ask what he has on you."
"Thanks." I tried to smile. "You aren't such a bad guy after all."
"Oh? But I am."
I didn't see him walk up to me, — perhaps the fact that I was busy staring awed at his unusual beauty was to blame, but somehow I ended up pinned to the wall.
I looked down; my ears were hot.
"Do you trust me, Nuru?"
I didn't answer. His closeness was messing with my head. I have no reason to feel self-conscious, I told my subconscious stubbornly. For a long moment I stared at the towel wrapped tightly around my body and noticed how much my hands were clinging it into place. God forbid it melted, anything could happen with how much heat radiated from his body.
"Yes..."
Roman widened his eyes in shock. This was not the answer he was expecting. "What? Not maybe, or no, but a stubborn yes?"
I frowned, confused. "Would you rather I change my answer?"
He moved closer still and then suddenly, he separated my legs with the push of his knee. "No... but you really shouldn't put your trust in me. Men are a tricky species."
He leaned over me with both hands braced on either side of my head. He was so close that I could taste his breath. Heart pounding already, I was momentarily unable to form a coherent thought. He began to kiss a trail from my cheek to my shoulder.
I gasped and my stomach jumped in spasms.
A smirk formed on his face as he moved his face closer to mine.
"You're not stealing my first kiss," I said weakly. But that's not how I'd intended my voice to be — weak, breathless — I was a strong woman dammit. I'd wanted it to be strong, firm, commanding but instead it was husky like, slurry, as though I was high on something.
"Oh yeah?" His voice had changed as well, I thought he sounded sleepy.
My breath caught in my throat as his hand went between my spread thighs.
I tried my best to squeeze my thighs back together but to no avail.
"Are you going to rape... me?" I was losing focus here, my words catching in my throat, his fingers creeping closer to my womanhood. I trembled in his grip.