Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 27)

“True. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

The road widened, and we were suddenly in a small neighborhood that looked like a million others anywhere in the country, except for the ever-present trees that hedged round it like someone had dropped it into the middle of a national forest.

I was thinking about how pretty the area was when Olaf asked, “May I touch your leg?”

He’d asked permission like I’d told him to do, but I didn’t want him to touch me. So if I let him touch me, was I really giving permission or being coerced?

“Your body is reacting as if it is stressed. I have done nothing.”

“You asked permission, and that’s great. It’s appreciated, but I’m sort of in work headspace, and I wasn’t expecting you to ask anything date-y, so it threw me.”

“Why is it a problem? No one from work will see us, so it will not hurt our professional standing. Nicky will not care.”

“I might care,” Nicky said.

“Why would you care if I put my hand on her thigh?”

“Because she cares, and she doesn’t want you to do it.”

I added, “I don’t usually let people touch my leg until we’ve had a couple of dates.”

“With all the people in your life, you still have such stringent rules?” He gave me a sideways look, keeping half his attention on the street.

I sighed; he had a point. “It depends on the person and the relationship.”

“Do you overthink all your relationships this much?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, but you’re the only one that started out threatening to kidnap, rape, torture, and kill me, so I’m a little fuzzy on which category to put you in for dating.” I’d ended by letting my confusion turn into sarcasm.

Olaf either didn’t get it or ignored it. He knew me well enough to know that I made smart-ass remarks when I was nervous or just because I could. “I can see where it would be confusing. You are also in a different category for me, and it does make things more difficult. I have never had to beg a woman to touch her before. I do not like it, but I am trying to learn the rules of ordinary dating. You tell me I must learn consent, so I am trying.”

“You are, Olaf. I mean, you really are. You’ve surprised the hell out of me with the amount of effort.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

“But if I say, ‘Yes, touch my leg,’ just because you want to touch me, but not because I want you to touch me, then is it really c

onsent, or am I letting you bully me into it? And if I’m letting you do that, is it really consent, or is it coercion?”

“That is so convoluted that I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Yeah, welcome to the inside of Anita’s head,” Nicky said.

“Are all women so complex in their thought processes?”

“More. I’m actually pretty easy for girl logic,” I said.

“I may owe your sex an apology. I thought they did not think deeply, but perhaps it is that you all think so differently from men that it seems to be shallow but is actually quite deep in a way that makes absolutely no sense.”

I thought about that for a second or two and then said, “Thanks. I think.”

“You are welcome.”

The tinny voice on my phone said, “Your destination is ahead on the left.”

Thank God, we were here. Maybe doing our actual jobs would distract Olaf from trying for his version of touchy-feely. It was better than him trying to kill me, but I understood the rules for that, and dating anyone always confused me. Dating Olaf was ridiculous, like trying to date Godzilla and not expecting to get crushed right along with Tokyo.