“What does that have to do with anything?” My fuzzy drunken brain scrambled to keep up. I didn’t want to sleep with him, not really. Had he asked me when I was still feeling sorry for him maybe I would have gone for a pity fuck but not now that he was back to being hard and nasty. I couldn’t see his broken spots anymore and just wasn’t that into it.

“That’s part of what I don’t understand. I used to just carry off the women I wanted. That was part of my deal, but they usually weren’t unwilling. They would come and dance with me, drink my wine, and sit close to me. You’ve come back to my house. Surely this means you want to get it on?”

The first part of his statement put me on edge, the threat lurking behind them clear, but I didn’t feel unsafe.

“I came home with you because it’s cold out, and I’m lonely,” I told him the truth before I thought of some clever, manipulative lie.

“So you do want to sleep with me?” he asked, sliding closer to me on the small settee and putting his arms around me.

“No. I just didn’t want to sleep alone. Or be alone. Or stop partying. Or something. I don’t really know.” At the worst possible time, I felt shy and like I couldn’t say the words, “I don’t want to fuck you,” out loud. I was afraid of hurting his feelings, and I was uncomfortable saying it. His arms tightened over mine, pinning them to my body. I sat there, stiff in his embrace.

“If you didn’t want to sleep with me, you wouldn’t have followed me home. You wouldn’t have drunk my wine. You wouldn’t have touched me. You wouldn’t have sat next to me. You sure as hell wouldn’t have answered my Cin.”

He didn’t loosen his grip or move his mouth, so he was speaking directly into my ear.

I didn’t know how to respond. My brain tried to drag a coherent rebuttal out of my mouth, but all I could come up with was, “I didn’t drink your wine. You gave me something with vodka in it.” Hardly the blistering denial I had been hoping for.

“It was a martini,” he said, his disgust at my lack of knowledge clear. “It’s a metaphor. Why would you have come here if you didn’t want to be with me? If you weren’t curious about what I have to offer?”

He grabbed my hand, moving it to his thigh. When he moved it between his legs, I pulled back, but he held on tighter. He did stop trying to pull it down, and he left it there pinned to his hirsute thigh.

“Come on, you know you’re curious. Maybe you’ve fooled around with the vamps or even the elves, and now you want to know what a real magic man has to offer. It’ll be fun. It’ll be the ride of your life. I promise. We’ll drink some more first if you need to relax, and then I’ll make you cum over and over.”

“I would take another drink,” I said. I didn’t want to drink anymore. I was so drunk puking on myself was a real risk, but if he had to get me a drink, he would let go of my hand, and I could stop touching his weird wiry leg hair. I wanted to go home, but I wasn’t even sure what part of the city I was in or how much a cab would be, and it was too late or not early enough to walk. I felt trapped. Maybe I could lock myself in the bathroom or set off the fire alarm. Perhaps if I puked on him, he would leave me alone. Probably not.

“You want another drink? You still haven’t had enough? Okay, you have to kiss me first,” he said as he nuzzled my ear. I tried to sort of wipe my ear off on my shoulder. Instead, I ended up rubbing my head against his face which sent him the wrong message.

“Mmm, yes. Kiss me, human.”

“If I kiss you, will you get up and get me a drink?” I asked, meaning would he get up and leave me alone.

“Are you that eager to kiss me?” he asked.

“No, honestly I just want you to get up,” I told him, and he laughed.

“Such a tease.”

He bit my shoulder softly and sort of growled. It was disturbing to hear him growl because he was basically half-prey animal. Mercifully he got up and went to the bar to make my drink.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked. For a moment I indulged in a fantasy of locking myself in there and never coming out.

Without looking at me, he said, “Yeah. It’s that way, go down to the end of the hall to the left and through the bedroom. It’s the door that obviously isn’t a closet.”

“Don’t you have a bathroom that’s not in your bedroom?”

“Of course I do, but I’d rather get you in my bedroom,” he replied, his back still to me.

I leaned my head back and tried to figure out what to do next. No brilliant ideas occurred to me. I tipped my head forward, and the world dropped away from me in a nauseating manner. I shoved myself off of the settee, almost falling over on my face. Instead, I managed to fumble my way across the cavernous room. No apartment had any right to be this large. The view was spectacular. I couldn’t deny that. The lights of the city flashed and blurred out of focus as I staggered around the bar where Xavious was checking his cell phone and sipping on his drink. Because he said to go down the left hallway, I decide to try going to the right. I found a closed door at the end of a short dark hallway.

Since he didn’t tell me to stop, I went ahead and let myself in. The office was as aggressively masculine as the rest of the apartment with nothing soft about it. The room smelled of leather and old books with just a faint fading whiff of Xavious’s cologne. However, unlike the front room, it was all dark leather, wood, and old technology instead of leather, chrome, and expensive electronics. Dark wooden bookcases covered all the walls with books neatly lined up and old. There were a few more recent hard covers, but most of the books looked ancient. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk. Tidy stacks of paper covered the desk. There was no computer. Behind the desk sat a large leather chair. On the other side of the room between two bookshelves was a wooden door. I opened it and was relieved to find a white tile bathroom. It was clean and contained no personal effects. There was one brown hand towel hanging over the towel rod. Of course the seat was up. Other than that, the bathroom could have been unused. The sink was a pedestal affair with those stupid individual faucets for hot and cold.

I splashed cold water on my face in the hope of sobering up some, but the only effect I managed was to smear my makeup. I tried to wipe off some of the smudged mascara, but all I achieved was to smear it in more. Peeing didn’t help, either. I’d run out of things to do, and I was afraid he was going to come looking for me soon. I was tempted just to lie down on the nice cool floor and pretend I had passed out. I tried throwing up a few times. It didn’t work.

It was clear that whatever the solution was, it wasn’t in the bathroom. I went back out.

When I passed Xavious, who was still standing at the bar looking at his phone, he said, “I was starting to worry you’d fallen in.”

“Nope, not that lucky,” I replied and staggered over to the large couch, instead of one of the two small settees, hoping it would give me enough room to escape him.

“Where were we?”

“You were laying your best line on me, and I was resisting. Give me my drink. Maybe I’ll throw up on myself, and you’ll leave me alone,” I told him miserably. I looked out over the city. The view was no longer impressive. It was just depressing how far I was from home.

“Now, now, don’t be silly. A little vomit never stayed the course of true love.” He smiled like this was about love.

The room spun. I wanted to go home. I put my head in my hands, willing myself to stand up and walk to a settee. It was too far, and I was too weak—and too drunk. I stayed trapped where I was until he came back and handed me another drink. It was colorless and even as drunk as I was, I could taste the booze. I wondered if it was straight moonshine or Everclear. I gagged over the first two sips. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to throw up on myself. He slid an arm around me again and started to lick my ear. It sounded wet and sloppy and not at all sexy. I pushed him off.

“Yuck, don’t do that,” I said and tried to wipe my ear off on my shoulder.

“You don’t like that? That’s okay. We’ll find something you do like.”

“No, no.” I shook my head, but I wasn’t sure my lips formed the actual words. I didn’t want him to touch me, but my lips were thick and useless. I wasn’t able to speak.

He started kissing me. When I tried to move my face away, he crushed my cheeks with his fingers and pulled my lips toward him. He pushed me back against the couch until I slid down under his weight. I could feel his huge hairy cock pushing against my stomach, and I dry heaved. Panic filled me and cleared my brain. I thought for sure I would throw up. My arms starfished out from under him, reaching blindly for something, anything that would help me. My hand landed on the corkscrew. I turned it in my fingers until I was holding it pointy side out, and I stabbed it into his haunches. He screamed and jumped off of me swearing. I was still holding on to the corkscrew as I ran out of the apartment. I made it into the elevator before I realized I needed a key to get it to move. I slid down the wall and put my head between my knees.