Six Flavours of Sin by Poppet Read Free Book Online

Cindy pulls on my arm and yells, "And a Blow Job!"
    I raise my eyebrows because now we're becoming the object of commentary and scrutiny. She laughs and, too loud, says, "I'm craving one."
    I'm not. I had a lifetime's supply just yesterday. Sleep is becoming an indulgence of luxurious proportions.
    The bar-tender returns with the shooters and quirks an eyebrow, "Anything else?"
    I blush for real, "A Blow Job too, please."
    His smile causes sunlight to break through the night and he unzips his jeans, "With pleasure."
    I clarify, "The shooter."
    He gives me a wink, his mischievous glance said very clearly, ‘It is the shooter, angel,’ but he pulls it back up. His throaty laugh causes my cheeks to burn with fervour. (This is my give-away. It reveals that no matter what happens between Gary and me behind closed doors, I'm still naive and easily embarrassed around strangers. Especially men.)
    Laughs erupt from the baritones and muscles surrounding us. A huge scary looking guy leers at me, "I'll give you one."
    This isn't going well. If Gary sees other men talking to me, I'm in endless shit. And I've only just been allowed out to play again. My flushed cheeks drain as his wide shoulders push through them and he stands towering behind Cindy. His look of displeasure sends fluttering panic through my loins. Cindy fears no repercussion and is encouraging the lewd behaviour. Gary scowls at the men, puts his arm around my waist and slides his hand into the back of my jeans.
    "Woman, is there a problem?"
    I shake my head as the bartender returns to me with a Blow Job. I pay him, my eyes pleading silently for him not to joke any further. As he hands me the change, Gary knifes him with two cold, hard, blue eyes and orders, "Two Castle's!"
    Gary is used to ordering people around. You can tell. He never says please. Gary moves his arm to around my shoulders and blatantly cups my right breast. Angry eyes seem insulted as they watch him. I feel shamed and carefully pick up the drinks, handing Cindy her Blow Job, avoiding all eye contact with the audience around us, at any cost. She downs it and I put the empty glass back on the bar. I hand her the Slippery Nipple and get ready to walk back to our table with mine.
    As I move through our audience, one man says to me, "What are you doing with a loser like that, sister?"
    I freeze, dizzy with fear. I keep my eyes riveted to the floor and force myself to start moving as Gary's voice confronts him, "Fuck you!"
    I glance back at the Good Samaritan. Gary is facing him, ready for a confrontation. I mouth "Sorry!" His eyes communicate so much. I felt genuine caring for my well-being in them. Cindy grabs Gary and pushes him, "Stop being a wanker, Gary!"
    Gary knows he's outnumbered. He can withdraw with his pride intact. Glaring daggers, he allows Cindy to drag him away. When she reaches me she gives me the ‘What the hell is wrong with your man?’ look.
    Charl and Alan immediately start teasing him for being highly strung, pushing smokes and alcohol at him. The instant solution to every problem.
    My eyes meet his and I want to die, and cry. I'm going to pay for this.
    I stare out at the luxury boats docked in the harbour. It's too late to hear the seals barking now. The lights dance ecstatically across the inky ocean, the smell strongly greasy from the tankers out of sight. I feel my exuberance drowning, like the moon sinking below the horizon. My emotional death is not that beautiful. Eventually, I drag my eyes back to watch him with ill-disguised trepidation. I smile half-heartedly at Cindy head-banging to one of our fine local bands. Cutting Jade are grinding out ‘I will fight you, every step of the way ...’
    I haven't. I don't have the guts to fight him.
    Later, a voice whispers at me as I enter the ladies, "You can do better."
    My eyes stare nervously up into gentle brown ones. For the first time, I'm sensing that I'm a catch, and Gary's possessive behaviour not only shamed me, but made me