I was unable to say another word for the long ten minutes that she drove. We parked downtown, in quite a posh area which I believed was all office space. She got out of the car and I followed. She had quite an authoritative stance. She gave me the impression that if she had to give orders I wouldn't like it, so I just tried to guess what she wanted me to do and did it. We walked into a building that seemed quite new and was huge. The elevator was actually bigger than my apartment, or so it seemed. I was checking the floor numbers as we silently climbed to the last floor. I realized she still had her glasses on. And then, when the last number lit up (27) and I was expecting the elevator to stop, it actually didn't. A moment later a small dot to the right of the 27 lit up, which I hadn't noticed until then, and the doors opened.
The elevator had been bigger than my apartment, the loft was bigger than my fucking building.
Ok, that's probably an exaggeration, but I had never seen something quite as big. She walked in and drop a bunch of stuff in a table that seemed to be more expensive that anything I owned, including her sunglasses. She went straight to what looked like the kitchen you would get in an spaceship. In a freakingly posh spaceship, actually.
"Do you want anything to drink?" she asked.
"What?" I replied, while I was still staring around in amazement.
"Any drinks?" she repeated from besides the fridge door. I realised she was actually leaning a bit against and she had her behind sticking out and pointing in my direction. I realised then that this was the kind of life my brother was used to and I wondered how he was able to cope.
"Can I have a Sprite?" I suggested.
"Sorry?"
"Uh, you know, a Sprite?"
"I'm not quite sure I know how to mix that," she said.
"Ehm, you don't mix it, it's like... A soda?"
She then turn to look at me. I completely lost focus, I hadn't seen her eyes until then.
"Oh," she said. "A Sprite, no alcohol. Sorry, I misunderstood."
I just stared, unblinking.
"Everything OK?" she asked.
"Why are your eyes purple?" I answered.
"Well, why are your eyes brown?" she suggested.
"Because that's a normal colour for human being eyes?"
She laughed, it was an amazingly sincere crystal clear laugh. "I wear contacts, you idiot."
"But why purple?"
"Why not?"
I just stood there while she tossed me a can and walked to the sofa. She moved like a diva, with every step she took I could make out every single muscle in her legs moving. I guessed that the catsuit was actually designed with that idea in mind, but everything about this girl screamed sex to me, and I was simply a young, innocent and nerdy kid. A 24 year old kid, but a kid after all. I wondered how her conversations with my brother would go.
I also realised that though we had being doing nothing but pass questions around since we met, none of them had been one of the important ones.
I sat down, determined to act cool and not make a fool of myself.
Then I forgot she had tossed me the can and I opened it.
By then I was completely sure that this must be one of my brother's apartments, and I guessed he was going to kill me for spilling soda in his really expensive looking couch. Emma was laughing again and I decided that if cool wasn't my thing, I could at least try for clever.
"So, how did you meet Mark?"
"Who?"
OK, so it seemed that clever wouldn't work either. "Mark?" I suggested.
"Mark? Who the hell is Mark?"
"Uhm, who the hell are you?"
"I'm Emma," she said.
"Yeah, but, you know, who are you?"
"I am mecenas bodyguard."
Mark, you fucking wanker. What the hell had you gotten me into?
"Wait," I said. "I thought mecenas was from somewhere in Middle Europe."
"He is, he just arrived a couple days ago and is still settling, he wanted to meet you, so he's doing so tomorrow. I saw you seemed to be in a mess so I helped you escape the guys that were going to get you."
"Oh," I was somewhat dizzy, as things didn't make any sense. Why the hell was a guy who supposedly worked for a low profile Middle European university but had a bodyguard and a loft that should cost more than some first world countries and who I had only talked to through an underground online forum wanted to save me from the police at my brother's faux funeral day?
Emma was looking straight at me.
"You know," she said. "It's really a shame about the alcohol, I was planning on getting you drunk to seduce you."
See, all this was actually being too much for me, so even though I know it may sound assertive, I wasn't thinking clear when I answered: "Aw, cm'on, a girl like you doesn't need to get me drunk to seduce me."
"Great," she said, and before I could realise she had moved, she had her tongue in my mouth.
When I woke up next morni... What? No. NO. FREAKING. WAY.
When I wok... I'm NOT giving any details, that's definitive.
Whe... Ok, just one word: chains.
Not enough? Ok, one more: tongue.
Ok, last one: 50-50 stand.
So, yes, I'm sure that one got to you. Go ahead, google it, I'll wait for you.
Nah, nah, nah, nah, hey...
Yep, it was a skating trick, I'll let it to your imagination how she actually pulled out that one out or if I'm just making stuff up to piss you off.
So, if that's over with: When I woke up next morning, I felt great. I could hear that Emma was on the bathroom and I screamed if I could use the computer to check my mail (I'd rather not use the lenses, the slow connections were frustrating). She told me there was no problem so I sat down, opened a browser, logged in, swallowed and felt like crap.
Right there, accusing me with its silence:
Wendy had sent me an e-mail.
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