NoHo Noir Short Fiction: 'Love Hurts'

Sex with Nick was not vanilla.

Rouzan had never realized how bored she’d been with vanilla.

Most of the men she’d been with had treated her like a “nice girl” and kept the sex safe. Tying a silk scarf over her eyes was about as kinky as it ever got and even then, the position was missionary and the lights stayed off.

Rouzan blamed herself. She was pretty enough but curvier than the California ideal and self-conscious about her body. It bothered her that she’d never really been driven out of her mind with pleasure, never had an earth-shaking orgasm that left her spent.

She figured she’d read too many romance novels.

She figured she was just frigid.

When she lived at home, she’d had to sneak around with her boyfriends to preserve the illusion that she was still a virgin. Her mother had helped her out, knowing that if her father caught Rouzan with any of her beaus, there was a good chance the young man would not survive the encounter.

Not that any of them had been much good. Frantic fumbling, messy moments and then out of bed and looking for a snack.

Rouzan blamed herself.

She figured she’d read too many romance novels.

She figured she was just frigid.

Her last boyfriend hadn’t been much better. Her father had approved of him—he would—and he made no secret that he was looking to marry into the family and the family business.

He made love to her like he was being forced to make love to his mother—dutifully, unimaginatively, and without a hint of passion.

Maybe it was fear of her father that kept a leash on him. Her father was a scary guy.

Nick had a leash too, and a collar as well and he had used them on her and she’d liked it.

The first time they’d had sex, he’d whispered, “I’m not the boy next door” in her ear and then proved it. She’d clawed his pillowcase to shreds before he’d let her go, her shrieks of mingled pain and pleasure muffled by the panties he’d stuffed in her mouth.

That was just the beginning.

He refused to let her hide her body beneath lingerie or under covers or in the darkness.

He’d explored every inch of her skin as if mapping alien topography for NASA. He kissed the scar on her shoulder where a dog had bitten her when she was a child and then bit her there himself.

Not gently.

He’d nibbled and kissed other parts of her body as if sampling a puu puu platter.

Sensations she’d never felt before shot through her as he grazed one of her nipples with his teeth.

Making her glad God had given her two breasts and not just one.

The first time he’d stayed over at her apartment, he’d rummaged in her kitchen looking for things he could turn into toys—wooden spoons, a brillo pad, a barbecue lighter, a metal whisk, emergency candles.

She’d worn a long-sleeve blouse to work the next day to hide the bruises.

It had been thrilling.

She realized that her lack of orgasms had nothing to do with unrealistic expectations set up by romance novels.

She realized she wasn’t frigid. In fact, she was good in bed.

And Nick wasn’t just good, he was fantastic.

They played water sports.

They played with rings and clamps and clips and pinwheels and vampire gloves.

They played with ropes and chains and cuffs and tethers.

Sometimes they just ate pizza and watched porn.

It was all good.

Except for the violet wand stuff that always made Rouzan feel like she was in a movie about terrorists being tortured with car batteries.

That was intense.

But Rouzan craved the intensity like it was a drug. Sex with Nick took her to an altered state. She was insatiable.

“You’re insatiable,” he said to her as she trailed her fingers down his navel, tracing the dark hair on his belly, moving lower with purpose.

Nick lay back, letting her minister to him.

And then his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller I.D. and blanched.

“I’ve got to get this,” he said and pulled away from her so abruptly she was left with her mouth hanging open.

He left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Rouzan could hear the low murmur of his voice but couldn’t make out the words.

Sliding out of bed, she crept to the door and quietly opened it.

“Now is not a good time,” she heard him say.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve got a woman here.”

There was a brief silence and then someone rang the doorbell.

Nick cursed, then strode to the door and yanked it open.

Rouzan closed the bedroom door and ran back to the bed, scrambling for her clothes on the floor.

Nick’s visitor was loud and she could hear him busting Nick’s balls.

“I want to meet this lady,” he said. “Must be someone really special to catch your eye.”

Rouzan could hear the men moving through the hallway toward the bedroom. Abandoning the attempt to dress, she dove under the covers.

“This is not cool,” Nick said. “You need to leave.”

“Come on bro,” the man in the hallway said laughing. “Share and share alike.” Then he threw open the door to the bedroom and looked in.

Rouzan clutched the sheets around her tightly as she looked up into the face of Nick’s boss—her older brother.