Smoke hung in the air of the dimly lit pub. Televisions in every corner were tuned to a hockey game. Logan sat at the bar, absentmindedly rubbing his knuckles. The numerous empty bottles in front of him indicated his slide into inebriation. Occasionally, he would glance up to check the
score, but he was not here to watch the game. He was here to hide. From everyone at the mansion, and especially from himself.
She had been watching him out of the corner of her eye. He was handsome, in a dark, dangerous kind of way. Not her usual type. The way he kept rubbing his hand and scowling told her that he probably had been fighting. She shook her head to clear it. She wasn't here for that. She was here to forget, with the help of a lot of alcohol. Forget that she had just found the man she thought she loved in bed with her best friend.
"Can you send that ashtray this way?" his deep voice mumbled. The piece of glass came sliding down the bar. He watched her reflection in the mirror when she got up to go to the ladies' room. 'She's kinda cute,' he thought,
massaging his knuckles again. A quick look down the bar, to where she was sitting, showed a slew of empty bottles. She came back, entering his line of vision.
"Can I get another one, please?" she asked the bartender. Her voice floated through the smoke to Logan. It sounded like music- sweet and clear. He could feel the blades, housed in his hand, break the skin. 'I will not lose control.' He willed them back in.
"Got a light?" Her voice vibrated all the way to his bones, and other places. 'I don't need this.' She moved onto the stool next to him. Now he could smell perfume and female. The pressure in his knuckles rivaled the pressure behind the zipper of his jeans. Wordlessly, he lit her cigarette.
She surveyed the bar. "Looks like we're both trying to drown our sorrows."
"I don't want to talk about it," he growled.
"Sorry for intruding," she whispered. He looked up in time to see tears well up in her eyes before she turned away.
"Shit." He couldn't stand to see a woman cry. Logan stopped her. "Stay. But I ain't one for much conversation."
"I'm Jordan," she introduced herself.
The bartender brought two more beers. Curiosity got the better of him. "So, what are you tryin to forget?"
"Ex-boyfriend. And you?"
He thought for a moment. "It's personal."
"Fair 'nough." she said, taking another sip of beer. "So, do you like hockey?"
They spent the next hour drinking and discussing everything under the sun- sports, cars, world events, even fashion and movies. Maybe that's how the conversation turned to fantasies, maybe not. Logan was pretty wasted, but he knew he'd sober up quickly. He didn't realize that Jordan had given up on the alcohol and was drinking sodas.
Logan leaned back on the bar and looked around the pub; there were only two other patrons. "So, tell me one of your fantasies," he prodded.
Jordan eyed her new companion. He really was charming and sexy. Especially when he smiled, like right now. She got the feeling he didn't do that very often. "Well, let's see. I've always wanted to go to Paris with the man I love."
Logan reached for his beer. "C'mon! You didn't tell me shit!" He looked deep into her blue eyes. "Tell me your deepest, darkest, secret fantasy."
His eyes mesmerized her; his voice hypnotized her. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have denied him. She whispered, so softly that Logan had to lean closer to hear. "I want a stranger to make love to me."
Before Logan could control it, a blade tore through his skin. Jordan was awestruck. She had heard of people like this, but had never met one. "Can I touch it?" she murmured.
He was shocked. Instead of being sickened by it, she was fascinated. "Ok." When her fingertips brushed the cool metal, Logan jumped. What no one knew, the reason why he was retreating, was that somehow he had developed a sense of touch, feeling in the blades. But it was more than that. And he was afraid to face it.
When he retracted the shiny blade, Jordan moaned. It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Regaining her senses, She reversed the question to him. "So, tell me your fantasy."
He chugged another beer and it went straight to his head. He gave her a wicked grin. "My fantasy, right now, is to make yours come true. He downed another ale and watched her blush. He heard the hitch in her breathing. 'Interesting,' he mused.
"Be serious. I told you mine." She threw his words back at him. "Tell me your deepest, darkest secret fantasy."
"Ok," he agreed, lowering his voice. "I want to fuck a woman with this." He extended one blade just a bit.
Jordan felt liquid pool between her legs. She wanted this man, this experience. "Maybe we could help each other out." She took his hand and kissed each knuckle.
Logan's healing factor kicked in and he sobered up. 'Fuck!' he thought. 'I told her!' He jerked his hand from hers. "Listen, Jordan. Ignore what I just said. I was drunk. I was just kidding around." He was amazed,
though. She wasn't frightened. As a matter of fact, he could smell her arousal.
"I don't think so." She lightly caressed his thigh. "I think you've just never voiced it before. I would like to help make it a reality."
"No," he closed his eyes as her hand came dangerously close to the ridge in his pants. She heard his breath grow ragged. "It's too dangerous. I don't want to hurt you."
She breathed in his ear. "I think you've already figured out how to get around that."
He grabbed her hand and planted it firmly on his erection. Jordan gasped at the size of it. "Yeah, I have." He couldn't believe he was contemplating this, or that she wanted to.
Her mouth was at his ear again. "Logan," she whispered. "Make love to me with both blades."
A growl erupted from within him. He threw money on the bar, then grabbed her hand and drug her out.