He expects a look of mild annoyance, and he gets it. But he also expects that it will quickly evaporate, and he gets that too. This tall handsome biker giving her his most disarming smile is causing her practically to melt into a puddle on the floor.
He says, ‘Thanks for agreeing to take this now. It’s really kind of you. To be honest, I don’t think I’m much good at this job. I feel like I’m really in over my head, you know?’
She opens the door wider now. It’s amazing how much a girl can allow her hormones to override her instinct for self-preservation.
‘No problem,’ she says. ‘I know what it’s like to be out of my depth.’
He almost laughs. You do, huh?
She continues: ‘Here, let me take that off you.’
She grabs the box, then carries it into the apartment, leaving the door gaping, her back unprotected. What the hell does she think she’s doing? Doesn’t she know how dangerous this city can be?
She puts the pizza down on the kitchen counter, then comes back with a fistful of cash. She passes it to him. Says, ‘Keep the change.’
‘No way. The way I screwed this up, I should be paying you.’
‘No, seriously. Keep it. Buy a beer or something.’
‘Well, only if you’re sure. I could do with some parts for my Harley, so it all helps.’
He waits for her eyes to widen, and is not disappointed. Suspects that he could soon have the space between her legs widening too if such was his aim.
‘You have a Harley?’
He nods. ‘Two, actually. Not tonight, though. I have to ride the piece-of-shit lawn mower that Peppe provides. Makes me feel such a dork. If my friends saw me on that. .’
‘I used to have a Harley.’
‘Get out of here. Really?’
‘Really. A 2002 Sportster.’
‘That’s the same as mine. Which engine? The 1200?’
‘Nah, just the 883.’
‘Still, that’s pretty cool. You got any pictures of it?’
He sees her waver, but only for a second.
‘Sure. Come on in.’
He stays put. He wants her to feel that she’s making all the moves here. She has no idea he’s pulling all the strings.
‘No,’ he says. ‘That’s okay. I should get back to Peppe’s.’
‘Come on. Two minutes, okay?’
He shrugs, walks on in. Casually closes the door behind him. Just the two of them, alone in this apartment. So fucking easy.
‘Be right back,’ she says. She skips off to the bedroom. When she comes back he notices that she has loosened her robe, that it is patently lower in the neckline. And when she stands next to him and holds out the picture of her pathetic hunk of shiny metal, he knows that she’s doing so in such a way that he can see right down her cleavage.
‘Beautiful,’ he says, because that’s clearly what she’s hoping for: a compliment that is ambiguous enough to apply either to her or her stupid bike. He wonders if he could have been even more daring — something about massive twin carbs maybe — but he has no idea whether motorcycles even have twin carbs, let alone whether it is meaningful to talk about their size. He has limited his research strictly to what he needs to achieve his aims.
‘Hell of a ride,’ she says, and he realizes she’s continuing the game. Leaving it to him to decide whether it’s the bike or her that’ll give him the biggest throb between the legs.
He shifts his gaze from the photo and sees that she is looking straight at him. Guesses that she has in fact been watching him throughout to see where his eyes rove. Right now her own eyes are wide with anticipation and excitement. She is loving this game. Getting off on the subtle foreplay.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he says.
She smiles knowingly. Even though she knows shit.
‘Sure. What is it?’
‘Are we in danger of getting a little moist here?’
Her mouth drops a little. Like she can hardly believe her ears. The nerve of this guy! The sheer temerity!
But he knows he hasn’t overstepped the mark. Far as she’s concerned he’s just upped the stakes. Made the game even more electrifying.
‘Excuse me?’ she says, because she has to. Because she needs to appear to be the shocked prim virgin instead of the oily slut she really is.
‘Is there a bath or something being filled back there?’
There you go, he thinks. You want
‘Huh?’ she answers, her meager brain not coping well with the sudden context switch. ‘Oh, yeah.’ And then: ‘Oh, shit!’
She races for the bathroom. He doesn’t wait for an invitation to follow. The bathroom is where this was always destined to play out. And Tabitha has acted her part to perfection.
He watches her fight with the faucets. He can’t see where the water level is, but a mound of foam is already several inches above the rim of the bathtub. When she finally shuts off the water and turns around, she jumps when she sees him standing in the doorway, holding the pizza box.
For the first time, he’s not sure how she’ll react. Is she thinking, ‘Whoa, fella! Who said you could come in here?’ Or is this fulfilling her most outrageous porn fantasy? The one where the handsome biker drops in on the frustrated and helpless single woman and offers to tune up her sump with his crankshaft, or whatever the hell the terminology is.
Frankly, he no longer gives a shit. The game has become tiresome. It’s time to bring it to its inevitable conclusion.
‘You want some of this pizza? It’s cold, and there’s a slice missing, but you’re welcome to have some. Personally, I think it tastes like vomit.’
She tries a smile, then seems to realize it doesn’t fit the circumstances and drops it again.
‘I think you should go now,’ she says.
He hears her nervousness. Sees her discomfort.
‘You don’t want me to go. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.’
She folds her arms. Trying to appear strong, decisive. But he sees only her admission of vulnerability.
‘Forget it, fella. Whatever you think this is, you got it wrong.’ She snaps an arm out, aiming her finger toward the apartment door. ‘Out!’
He doesn’t budge. Of course not.
‘I can’t. Not before I give you what you need. I have to help you.’
He sees the confusion on her face, but he understands. Her prayers for aid have remained unanswered for so long that she finds it almost beyond belief that they have finally been answered. It must be such an assault on one’s perception of how the universe works.
‘I don’t need your help.’
He gives her what he believes to be a beatific smile. ‘You need help. You just didn’t expect it to come now, and from someone delivering pizzas.’ He laughs. ‘But don’t be fooled by appearances. Help is finally here. All you have to do is accept it.’
Her eyes dart, and he realizes she isn’t going to take his advice. Sadness overwhelms him. She is so fucked up, she is incapable of appreciating the significance of this moment.
‘That’s it,’ she says. ‘I want you the fuck out of here. Now!’
He stands his ground. Maintains his smile of serenity.
She storms toward him. ‘Get the fuck out of my way.’
He sidesteps a little, creating an opening in the doorway she can squeeze through. He waits for her to increase her pace toward the escape route he has just made for her. Waits for her to come almost level with him.
