Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding 2.5)

Layla introduced Chyna to the rest of the girls, but she wasn’t planning to be around for much longer, so she didn’t pay attention. In fact, she had other things on her mind, like getting wasted, dancing away the rest of the night, and stumbling home to try and forget the rest of the week.

“So, what have you been up to?”

Chyna had seen Layla at the MET sometime last year. She had tried to avoid her, but Layla had somehow cornered her on the way out. She had just graduated from Yale with her bachelor’s in interior design or fashion or something Chyna knew Layla was likely never use as a stay-at-home mom.

Layla thrust her left hand out, revealing the massive diamond on her finger. “I got married!”

“Nice,” Chyna said unenthusiastically.

Marriage was pretty low on her list of priorities. Actually, it might not be on the list. Sex sounded nice though. Nice, straight, rough, vanilla sex.

“And, I’m engaged!” Amy followed it up by showing off her own rock.

“Great,” Chyna said, barely glancing at their rings.

“And, you…” Layla said wide-eyed.

“You’re all over New York. Following in mommy’s footsteps, I see.”

God, she remembered why she hadn’t been friends with these bitches in high school. The bite of jealousy in Layla’s voice was so unbecoming.

“How did you get to model for Marco’s anyway? I’m still trying to get him to return my calls. I heard he designs wedding dresses, and hubby said I could get whatever I wanted,” Amy crooned.

Chyna clutched the armrest at the mention of his name. She couldn’t escape him. She just couldn’t get away from any of it. She put her glass down on the table and stood. She hadn’t even noticed that she hadn’t taken a single sip from the drink. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Layla called. “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

“What’s wrong?” Amy cried, standing as well.

“Nothing. I just…you know what? It doesn’t matter,” Chyna said, turning away from them.

“Rude much?” She said heard Layla call at her as she walked away from their table.

She didn’t stop or turn around. She made it to the center of the dance space and began grinding her body to the beat.

She wasn’t drunk enough to forget what had just happened, but she tried to fill her mind with the music, the dance, the grip of someone’s hands on her hips. Still Marco weaseled his way into her thoughts even then.

She wasn’t supposed to care about what she had done. It was no more than he deserved. He might have been about to surprise her with the cover spread of his new advertisement, but that didn’t mean anything. How many other women had been cover models for him? How many others had he photographed in his studio?

How many other models had he tossed aside for the next thing? And how many had left him?

She was sure that she was the only one.

The only one dumb enough.

“Hey, baby, what’s your name?” the guy whispered into her ear while she pushed her ass against him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Chyna said, pushing her hands up around his neck and rolling her body back against his. Her name was too recognizable at the moment. Maybe he hadn’t seen the advertisement. Maybe he hadn’t seen her name written in shiny gold font at the bottom. But, she wasn’t taking chances. Tonight, she was just some anonymous girl in the VIP lounge.

“I like that,” he breathed into her ear.

They danced for the next three songs before he leaned forward and spoke to her again. “You want to get out of here?”

She debated. He was cute and a good dancer. He definitely fell into the high school jock category as far as looks went.

He was kind of built like a baseball player with shortish blonde hair and a cocky smile. She could dig that cocky smile. It usually meant good things in the bedroom…or it meant terrible things.

Taking a second look at him, she guessed the former.

But, did she want to leave with some guy that she just thought was cute, even if he had a smile that she knew held promise? “I don’t think so,” she finally responded.

He didn’t acknowledge her refusal as he continued to dance with her, his movements getting impassioned. His hands ran up her sides, and as she began to pull her hands down from around his neck, he reached up and locked them back in place. She obliged his forceful behavior and kept on dancing with him.

That was good enough for now. He was a good enough distraction.

He took this as encouragement and moved his hands back down her arms. His hands got adventurous, rounding the curves of her br**sts and then trailing down her flat stomach to the waistline of her black shorts. His fingers dipped under the material and fluttered lightly across the inside of the seam. She dropped her head backward onto his shoulder as his touch heated her body. Maybe this was the easiest way to forget.

They were pressed in on every side by a mass of bodies dancing in the darkness.

She couldn’t tell one person from the next, and it was giving him courage he likely wouldn’t have had otherwise. His lips found the side of her neck, kissing up to her ear. She tilted her head sideways, giving him easier access, as she enjoyed the taste of pursuit.

She laughed at his boldness, but she didn’t stop him as his hand moved farther into her shorts. His finger stroked her silk underwear in time with the music. She rolled her ass in circles against his hardening cock, teasing him despite her refusal.

“Tease,” he growled into her ear. He pinched her clit through her panties. Her body arched backward into him, surprised by his forcefulness. She had clearly been right about her assessment of that smile.

“Come home with me.”

When she nodded, he released her and pulled his hand out of her shorts. She let him take her hand, and she followed him out of the club. See, back to normal.

They took a cab to his place, and she told Carl to tail them. She already knew she wasn’t going to stay the night with this guy.

They reached his apartment building fifteen minutes later, and he practically dragged her up to the second floor. She followed, trying to get into the haste and enthusiasm that was radiating off of him.

By this point, she was wishing that she had finished her martini earlier. Another drink would do her some good. He had clearly had a few more than her.

He jiggled the door open and pushed it with his hip. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his apartment. Their lips crashed together before he even got the door closed behind him. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. He stumbled backward, trying to guide them to the bedroom in the dark, but he ran into an armchair and fell over the edge. He stood up laughing awkwardly.