Elliot

Dropping the duffel bag on the bathroom counter of Charlotte’s hotel room, I loosen my tie. Charlotte is watching me with her hands behind her back as I pull a chair into the bathroom and face it towards the sink and mirror.

She continues to watch me as I strip off my shirt and jacket, being sure to hang them on the towel rack with my tie on the top.

Unbuckling my belt, I hear Charlotte clear her throat. I drop my pants and pick them up to hang them as well. I catch Charlotte checking out my bulge beneath my black boxer brief Calvins as I turn to face her.

I sit. I’m so excited. Deep down, I feel like a kid at Christmas and it's taking every ounce of courage and strength to maintain some level of coolness.

She grabs a towel and checks out my chest before she lays it on me, draping it over my shoulders.

Charlotte turns around to fumble with the clippers and razors that she pulls out of the duffel bag. As she leans over the counter, getting everything in place, her bubble ass is staring me right in the face. I lean in, opening my mouth and getting as close as possible then pretend to take a bite. Damn, I want to bite it!

Charlotte backs up and the cushion of her ass bumps me in the face.

“Oh, sorry!” she exclaims with clippers in hand.

“It’s okay,” I smile and grip behind her thighs while pulling her closer to me between my legs to sandwich her between my own thighs.

Charlotte powers on the clippers, leans down, and begins to clip away the beard.

I close my eyes to enjoy this moment. It feels so good to be close to her, to feel her grooming me. It makes every inch of my body tingle like I’ve been drugged. Charlotte is my drug. I went twelve years into remission, but with one glance, I was already back to being hooked. Addicted.

My face soon feels exposed and after just a few minutes, I open my eyes to notice Charlotte is beginning to feel uneasy. The towel over my chest falls away to the floor and now she’s panting.

“Mr. Nine,” she asks, “what’s your first name?”

“Nine is not my actual last name,” I respond. “It’s a nickname.”

She dips in closer like she’s afraid to look at my whole face. “Nickname for what?”

“I think you should use the razor now, Charlotte,” I encourage before she clips my whole face away.

“Oh right,” she says and turns around to grab the shaving cream.

She’s trembling as she spreads the foam over my jaw then starts to stroke the disposable quad blade razor over my face. With each swipe, she turns to run the razor under warm running water. With her back to me, she asks again, “Why do people call you Mr. Nine if that’s not your real name?”

“I’m one of four Nines—the Nine Inch Males. It’s the group name my buddies and I gave to ourselves back in high school. We were real geeks back then, but a few of our close friends still like to joke about it. I get called Mr. Nine all the time.”

“Nine Inch Males,” she sighs and pauses. “NIM.”

I grab her hips. “Charlotte, you’re not done.”

Her chest expands, taking an enormous breath, and then she exhales slowly as she turns to face me with the razor in hand, held high. I’m starting to feel a little nervous as she eyeballs my jaw, then my bulge, and my jaw again.

She bends down to shave the last of the foam off my face. “So, is it really nine inches?” she asks.

“A bit longer—ow!” She’s nicked me.

“I’m sorry,” she cries.

I put my finger to my jawline and examine the slick ooze of blood on my fingertips.

Charlotte leans over me—her tits in my face, to grab a towel on the rack behind me and she comes back to wipe my jaw and fingers off.

“How do I look?” I ask.

She tilts her head forward and downs a hard swallow. “Like someone I know.”

“Here,” I say and spread each eye open to pull out my green contacts revealing my light brown eyes underneath. “How about now?”

Charlotte bats her eyes with a sulk. I can’t tell if she’s happy or upset.

“Can you get my glasses from the bag so I can see myself? I can’t see without my contact lenses.”

She reluctantly digs into the bag and when she finds the pair of black square-framed glasses. She shoves them at me. I’m trying not to smile too hard as I put them on.

Charlotte comes into focus and she’s staring at me with the most forlorn look in her eyes—her brows are crinkled and her lips are pursed tight like she’s angry. I can tell she’s at odds with seeing me, the old me, the real me.

“Well?” I huff. “What do you think? Do you think this girl is going to like me or not?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Crowe,” she pouts turning around to empty the water from the sink. “Why don’t you take your fucking pill and find out.”

Ah shit! She’s figured it out.

“The development of that pill is your fault,” I point to the mirror so she sees me.

“My fault?” she gawks, facing me. “I haven’t seen you in over ten years and you’re going to blame me for some date rape drug that you and your geek friends invented.”

“It’s not a date rape drug. It only increases the number of pheromones I put out, which increases your reaction to my body chemistry thereby exposing our mutual or nonmutual attraction while accelerating the reproductive process cascade.”

 “Elliot, I can’t...I don’t...never mind,” she throws her hands ups and huffs. She tries to storm out. My heart sinks but my body rises. I stand up to grab her by the arm and the neck, trapping her between the counter and me. She is not getting away this time. She tries to shove me away, but I keep her pinned, leaning on her—our chests together. I want to hold her, but she keeps her head turned away.

I lean my hands on the counter to her sides. “Look at me,” I say.

“No.”

“Is it the glasses?” I take them off and put them on top of the bag. “You don’t like glasses?”

She laughs halfheartedly, still looking away. “No, Elliot. It’s not the glasses.”

I pull her hand to rub my face. “Is it the beard? You’re a sucker for the beard, aren’t you? You miss Mr. Nine’s beard?”

“No,” she smirks with a smile “It’s not the beard.”

I cradle Charlotte’s face in my palms and capture her gaze. “Then what is it? Tell me,” I demand. “Why is it you’re so willing to let Mr. Nine chow down on your pussy but you won’t even look at me, like you’re disgusted with me, like you hate me, like I’m worthless, like I’m—”

“Because!” she snaps. “You’re too smart for me.”

I’m aghast. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

 “Elliot, I cannot even understand what you’re talking about half the time. You were explaining the drug and I have no clue as to what you were referring. You’re so smart, you make me feel stupid.”

This is ridiculous. “Charlotte, you’re not stupid.”

“It won’t matter what you say,” she gripes. “You make me feel that way and I don’t know how else to feel other than feeling like a total loss when I’m next to you.”

My soul feels crushed. My heart—pulverized. “So, you’re not attracted to me like this at all?”

“I don’t know.” She stomps her foot, frustrated. It’s sexy really. I’m tempted to just handle her again until she shakes her head becoming calm when her eyes dart at my lips.

I remember our kiss. I have no doubt she’s thought about it, too. It’s why she’s staring at my lips so hard.

I lean over to my pants hanging and pull the Bang out of my pocket. I grab the container that holds the pill and put my glasses back on.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly.

“I want to take the Bang with you?”

“Bang?!”

“It’s the name of the drug.”

She shakes her head. “Absolutely not. No way.”

“Charlotte, you owe me this.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she grumbles.

“Yes, you do. After the fire, I asked for a kiss, but you didn’t kiss me. Instead, I kissed you.”

Her face sulks again. She knows it’s true. “What happens if you take the pill and it turns out I hate you the way I hated Nick? I liked Mr. Nine, but I might attack you as Elliot.”

“It’ll be okay,” I assure her massaging her shoulder.

She loosens up. “Elliot, if you really want to do this, maybe you should tie me up first. When Nick took the pill, I really thought I could kill him.”

I quickly reach for my necktie and dangle it in front of her. “Are you sure, Charlotte?” The thought of tying her up excites me, but what excites me more is that she’s okay with this little experiment to determine if Elliot Crowe might have a chance.

She puts her wrist together. “I’m sure.” I loop the necktie around her wrists, binding them together as she continues. “And what happens if I get ridiculous and desperate—the way I felt in the elevator when you were Mr. Nine. I should tell you, it’s painful. Those feelings are insatiable.”

I smile. “Both Mr. Nine and I will take care of you.”

“I’m sure you both will,” she smirks then bats her eyes. “In either case, will I still get to keep the property?”

I lift the little container. Charlotte watches me intensely as I pop the top and toss the pill under my tongue.

I kiss her. “In either case, both men are going to give you whatever you want.”