Page 53 of Trig

“Let’s get this shit over with. Shall we?” I turn to walk up to his home.

“What’s the rush? We have all night,” he says, as he quickly grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

His eyes suck me in again. He’s trouble, but when I’m bored, I like to play with dangerous toys. Now that he’s set the pace, and slowed me down, he motions his hand in one long sweep for me to go first. With his hand planted on my mid-back, we walk in silence up the winding path toward his porch. I take in the beauty of the greenery and roses. The landscape surrounding this place looks like God himself takes care of it. Garden of Eden type shit. As we hit the oversized porch, I notice a butler standing at attention, one arm behind his back, holding the door open with his weight. The butler, without making eye contact, extends his hand out to me to help me cross over the step.

“No need,” Oscar says.

Oscar grabs my hand and helps me up the step and over the threshold. He turns to the butler who is waiting for instructions.

“Dismissed,” he says.

I watch as the butler nods, beelines it down the hall and then disappears. I take in just the entry point of his ridiculously sized home and force myself to seem unimpressed by its elegance. My eyes land on one painting. As an art connoisseur, I am internally losing my shit. It’s one of the most expensive paintings in the world. It’s called The Card Players and it’s worth roughly about two hundred and fifty million dollars. There's only five variations of it. One sits with a royal family and the others are in a museum.

“Do you know art?” he asks.

“Naw,” I lie. “This one seems cool though. I guess.”

“It’s an original.”

I inhale my saliva which causes me to choke and start coughing. He looks like he wants to help, but I shake my head, back up, and finish my coughing spell.

“I’m good. Air went down the wrong pipe,” I say, as I gather myself.

“Mm-hmm. Are we done staring at paper on walls?” Oscar grins.

He nods his head once toward the door to his right. I walk by him, push open the door and then strut in. I can no longer hide my emotions. This fool has his own club/bar inside his house. There is a giant dance floor with low lighting and music playing. Aside from the bartender staring at us, it’s just us two.

“Go ahead. Take a seat at the bar. Order whatever you like. Champagne? Martini?”

I scoff. “I’m nineteen. I’m not legal to drink,” I snap.

He laughs and then licks his lips.

“You cuss like a thug. You shoot like a professional killer, and you have no problem buying illegal guns. But alcohol is where you draw the line. It’s comical.”

I roll my eyes.

“Bottle of tequila,” I shout.

“Interesting choice for someone who doesn’t drink,” he responds.

“I never said I didn’t. I said I’m not legal.”

The bartender looks at Oscar for approval. Oscar nods once. The bartender returns with two shot glasses and a bottle of what looks to be the most expensive bottle of Tequila I have ever seen.

“No lime or salt? What type of establishment is this?” I mock. Oscar grins

He waves his hand to the bartender and just like that, lime and salt appear. Another wave from Oscar and the guy is gone. I attempt to grab the bottle to pour my own shot, but he slides the bottle out of my reach and closer to him. I watch as he pours a shot, stands up and then moves to the side of me. With one hand he gently brushes my hair out of the way. He then grips my chin in his hand and cocks my head to the side. He sucks his thumb and then runs the slickness down my neck. I watch as he picks up the salt shaker and shakes a bit of salt out on my neck. He picks up a lime wedge and leans into my ear.

“Open your mouth,” he whispers.

This motherfucker. First of all, how dare you. Secondly, say it again. I do as I’m told because the pussy trap he laid out is definitely working this round. He gently inserts the wedge, peel facing back. I barely bite down. He holds my hair to the side with one hand and then he leans down and slowly licks the salt from my neck. I watch as he throws the shot back into his mouth. I pretend not to like it, but I do. He turns my chair to face him and then he moves and inserts himself between my legs. Lucky for me, I’m wearing these tight-ass jeans. He moves his face closer to mine and my heartbeat elevates. He gently places his lips to mine and grabs the lime with his teeth but he hovers there for a second. The heat from his breath hits my skin and I fight the urge to grab him. Instead, my hands grip the seat of this stool. He steps back, letting his lips graze against mine in the process. With the wedge now in his mouth. I watch and salivate in places I shouldn’t be as he destroys that lime and drains out all the moisture.

Oscar puts the wedge on the bar. Clearly, he’s not done with the show because he grabs the tequila and pours me a shot. He licks part of the rim, salts it and then slides it my way. He takes a new lime wedge and puts it in between his teeth. He nods to the shot and then he watches me as I down it. He then motions for me with two fingers. I get up and attempt to move between his legs, but he shakes his head, and hikes me up into his lap, causing me to gasp. I’m now straddling him with his hands gripping my hips. I lean down and let my lips graze his as I slowly take the wedge out of his mouth. I give him a brief tongue show with the lime, and then I reach back, grab the shot glass and slowly lick the remaining salt off.

“You certainly have big dick energy. I’ll give you that.” I grin.

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