22. December 18 - Wilder

Savannah's work didn't spare any expense for the holiday party. Gus and I usually go to dive bars or bars that have sports on large TVs every five feet and make good pot roast sandwiches. This bar isn't a club, but it's more upscale than my usual haunt. Floor to ceiling windows allow light into the place while blue track lighting reflects off the polished floor. Comfortable couches are scattered throughout the room, giving the place a coffee house feel as waitresses in short skirts bring fresh drinks in a timely manner. Dark-stained and buffed tables line the walls with booths at the back of the bar, the wood so nice that I wouldn't dare not use a coaster.

"Having fun?" Savannah asks, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. "Thanks again for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it. It's what cuffs do. I hope I'm making you proud, at least."

She turns me around to face her and runs her eyes up and down the length of my body. My dick twitches in my pants under her gaze, and she smiles at my dark, well-fitting jeans and green sweater that fits my biceps and pectorals like a glove.

I may look good, but she looks better. Her hair is down today, a change from her normal ponytail or messy bun she wears around the apartment, and I realize that I haven't seen her dressed up a lot since we met and had our first date.

That seems like years ago, not two months.

She wears tight jeans I want to peel off her skin, and she even paired them with black high heels I want her to leave on later. Even her ugly Christmas sweater she wore to be ironic isn't entirely unsexy. It's a simple red and green with Santa right over her breast. The sweater gives her a sexy librarian vibe and suggests she'd sit on more than Santa's lap. Maybe we'll play that later tonight.

I'm in the mood to celebrate with her and celebrate in general. I've always loved Christmas, and I've enjoyed her constant Christmas music and decorating the past couple of weeks. We went to get a Christmas tree from a farm thirty minutes away, tied it to the top of her car, and trimmed it in the apartment. It's surreal to have dirty sex with someone one moment and then carry a Christmas tree up three flights of stairs with them.

"Want another drink?" I ask, running my hand down her back. Her coworkers, mostly older librarians, sigh a little and stare with open mouths as I touch Savannah.

"I'll get this round," she replies. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses the tip of my chin. "You've bought all night. This is my event, so you need to let me take care of you a little."

She moves toward the bar, and I grab her hand, pulling her back to give her a real kiss. We don't use tongue since this is a work event, but our mouths move against each other for a few seconds before she pulls away and gives her coworkers a sheepish look over my shoulder.

"If you're going to the bar, mind if I step out back and have a cigarette? I just want one. Parties always stress me out."

She shakes her head. I know she hates my smoking, but we both give and take. I pat my pants pocket to make sure I have my pack of gum with me, and she knows I do my best to blow it away from my clothes.

"I may be a long time," she says, eyeing the packed bar. "You could probably have two by the time I get a drink."

"I'll hurry."

I watch her squeeze herself into the crowd at the bar, and I take off toward the back of the joint, passing the bathrooms and a small alcove with an old condom machine from the last century. There's a back door with alley access, and people have gone out back all night. Either there's heavy drug activity back there or that's the smoking place.

I open the metal door to the outside and breathe in the cold air. It's not too cold for December, and the usual winter snow hasn't started yet. Hell, it's almost camping weather, and I pull out a cigarette and light it, watching my breath and the smoke mingle in the air.

"Well, look who it is," a female voice says behind me. The door slams as the person steps out of the bar, but cold ice is already moving up my back.

I know that voice.

I turn slowly, like a guilty murderer turns at the part of the movie where he's caught. Thankfully, I don't fully humiliate myself in front of 2017 by putting my hands up. "Uh, hi."

"Meredith," she drawls slowly. "Did you forget my name?"

That's it. Meredith. I take a look up and down her body and mentally note she looks the same. Her hair is still red, but it's shorter. Too bad. I liked that hair against my chest when I woke up in the morning.

She was my first cuff contract, and I remember her fondly as the one that gave me most of the contract terminology I use in the current form.

"How are you?" I ask. Stay cool. Will she cause an incident with Savannah? "Long time."

She scoffs, and it's a mean sound with no warmth. "Yeah, I'm sure you've been sitting around and wondering how I'm doing."

"What are you up to now? Married? Kids? You always seemed the kid type."

She scowls. "Actually, after you broke my heart, it took me several years just to work up the balls to get on Tinder. Thanks for that, asshole."

"Uh, good. Well, it was nice seeing you," I say, flicking my half-finished cigarette into the alley, violently exhaling the smoke out my nose, and starting toward the door.

She blocks my path and puts her arm up over the frame. My eyes glance at the door handle and hope someone comes out the door. The handle would slam right into her lower back, and I could duck by and get out of the line of fire. Would Savannah be willing to leave if I made it sound like I'm not feeling well?

"Where are you going? Let's catch up, buddy."

I step back. "Sure. Good. Let's catch up. Um…well, I'm doing oil changes and state inspections and still like to camp. We went camping a few times in the nice weather, right?"

"You don't even remember? Do we all just blend together in your mind?"

Yes, but I don't answer. I know better. "What are you doing now?"

"Do you even remember what I did back then?"

I stuff my hands in my pockets and sigh. "Listen, Meredith, it sounds like you have a problem with how things were left with us, and I'm sorry you were hurt, but that was the agreement. I'm not exactly long-term relationship material. Look at me, for fuck's sake."

"You look like you're a long-term kind of guy with that girl in there." She tilts her head to the side and gives a villainous grin. "Or is she just another contract?"

I stare at 2017 and don't blink.

"Holy fucking shit! She is a contract." She claps her hands with her fingers in steeple pose. "Let me guess. This is a holiday party, and you're the hired help. Fuck, Wilder, that's just so fucking sad."

"What's sad?"

"You and her. Both of you. You for still finding women to leech off of for months, only to leave them. Her for being so desperate that she'll sign a contract for a few months of good dick."

She's heading toward a tirade, and I really wish someone would come out the back door. Please God, just don't let it be Savannah. "So, you think my dick game was good?" I ask, desperate to change the subject and get her to calm down. Maybe if I remind her of my dick energy, I'll get out of this unscathed.

Bad idea.

She steps toward me, and I step back, only to meet the brick wall behind me. I freeze and stare at her like her hands creeping toward my chest are guns. She licks her lips and bats her eyes. "That dick was so good that I still think about it at night when I touch myself. Does she like it?" she asks, nodding back at the bar. "Is she willing to share? We could have some fun tonight," she coos, dragging her hands down my chest. "I'm not really into girls, but I'd take sloppy second ride on the Wilder express for one night."

I push her hands down. "She's not like that. She's a nice girl."

"Well, that's disappointing." She runs her middle finger down my jaw, and I push her hand away again. "I was hoping she'd be an absolute asshole like you deserve."

"Why are you so mad at me?"

She laughs again. "How can you ask that? You left me broken-hearted on February fifteenth. I cried for fucking days, dickhead."

"You signed it. Our arrangement was mutual."

She bites her cheek and looks me up and down again until her eyes settle on my stubble. "Do you really think we go into this and don't think we can change you? Every woman wants to tame the bad boy, hoping and praying that we're the ones he falls in love with. We all want to be the girl that melts your cold, dead heart. That's what I wanted." She boops my nose with her index finger. "I wanted to tame you."

"I can't be tamed. I'm not a dog to be trained."

"Little church girl in there not taming you, Wilder? I don't know. I feel like she could be the one to do it. She's pretty."

"I know she's pretty," I mumble. I also know she's smart, kind, and the warmest woman I've cuffed with. I just don't rub that into 2017's face. I'm in a deserted alley with her and value my dick and balls.

She places her hands on the brick behind me, boxing me in. I can get out of this, but I'd have to push her away. I'm not trying to hurt her, and I've never pushed a woman. If she fell and injured herself, I wouldn't be able to live with it.

"Why is she so fucking special that she gets you?"

"She doesn't. We have the same deal I had with you."

She smiles. "She can look forward to heartbreak in a couple of months, huh?" She glances toward the bar door and smiles.

She also must see the fear in my eyes or smell it, like a bee or dog. "Don't worry, Wilder. She'll find out what you are soon enough. I wouldn't dream of breaking up your little cuff gig. In fact, I feel sorry as fuck for her. I won't hurt another woman like that so close to Christmas." She gets closer to me, and I recognize her perfume. She still wears the same type. "Consider it a Christmas present from me. Just like I gave you the camping cookstove. Do you remember that?"

I remember one of them gave me a camping cookstove that I still use to boil water for noodles. It was a nice gift, and I waffle my head side to side in recognition that it was a good gift.

Before I can tell her that I still use the stupid camping stove, her lips are on mine. They're familiar but also foreign, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realize she's assaulting me in an alley and her tongue is in my mouth.

All I can think about is that 2017 still tastes like vanilla pudding and the terrifying possibility that Savannah will come out to look for me, only to find another woman's tongue in my mouth. Even worse, what if a coworker comes out? Then, Savannah would be hurt and embarrassed.

Her lips move against mine, and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling at my hair as I will my body to move. Is this the shit women have to deal with? I've heard stories of women freezing when this happens to them, and I suddenly understand.

It takes almost half a minute for my body to react. I push her arms down and turn my head so her tongue meets my beard scruff. It doesn't stop her, and she licks her way up my jaw until she sucks on my earlobe.

"Stop," I grunt, nudging her back. She doesn't fall, but she stares at me like I've wounded her all over again. "That's not what I want."

She nails me with a glare. "Yeah, we don't always get what we want, do we? I sure didn't. I'm sure you've cuffed with other women in the past few years. Did they get what they wanted? I mean, what they really wanted?"

"I'm going back in," I say, heading for the door and silently praying to whatever deity controls the universe that 2017 doesn't follow me and rat me out to Savannah.

I quickly swipe at my lips, hopeful another woman's lipstick and spit isn't on my face when I go back to Savannah. "Sure, Wilder," she calls after me. "Go back in and be all cutesy with her for the next couple of months. Maybe I'll find her here at the bar on February fifteenth. I'll be the one that comforts her because a douchebag broke up with her after she thought she could tame the beast. Until then, go fuck yourself, asshole."

I turn to look at her one last time, and my eye catches her middle finger in the air and the scowl of sheer fury on her face. Before the door shuts, she turns and stomps down the alley, muttering to herself about dickheads and how we're all alike. I blow out a sigh that she isn't following me into the bar, and I put a smile on my face for Savannah.