Chicago Erotica

By Chicagoist_Guest in Arts & Entertainment on Feb 11, 2016 6:10PM

(Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images)

By Christa Desir

I.

“Come on, sweetheart. Open up. You know you want it.” The deep timbre of Trey’s voice echoed through Sienna and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

“It’s too big.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. And everyone is staring,” she hissed. She couldn’t believe she had to do this in front of all these people. It’d be a different story if they were alone, but she could hear a guy behind her drunk-slurring and Sienna felt exposed.

Trey laughed and tapped her chin. “You can do it, baby. You promised you’d try.”

She peered up at him through her lashes. He was so incredible looking—dark eyes and a full mouth. He licked his bottom lip and her insides grew warm.

“I don’t know," she said. "I think I overestimated myself.”

He quirked a brow. “You said you were all in. Are you chickening out now?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and huffed. “Fine. You promised I’d like it. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

He laughed, and she could almost see his six-pack abs flexing through his shirt. How could he be so fit and still indulge in all the hedonistic pleasures he did?

“No, baby, time to put my money where your mouth is. Open wide.”

Sienna licked her lips and opened her mouth. Trey smirked and leaned forward. Flavor burst on her tongue and she couldn’t hold back her moan. “Mmm, Trey. That is good.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear and wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth. “Told you that you’d like it, sweetheart. Nothing beats char dogs at the Wiener’s Circle.”

via Shutterstock

II.

Sophie had bailed on Friday night at Smart Bar with her co-workers again. She was running out of excuses, but when her BFF Lisa texted with a time, Sophie faked sick. She should go out with them. They always had great stories when they got back to work on Monday, and she sometimes felt like the other women in the media department at Leo Burnett thought she was prissy and aloof. But Sophie had a Friday night ritual of her own, and she couldn’t seem to shake it.

Friday night was her date night with him. Peter.

She could just reschedule. It was stupid that she insisted on Friday nights when Peter was available any other night. She could almost hear his laughing voice saying, “Always here for you!” But she’d chosen Fridays because she liked to take a long bath in her tub first and have a glass of wine to prepare herself. Not that Peter needed her looking and smelling good. He wasn’t fussy. But she wanted to do that for him. He always worked so hard. She needed to do it for him.

Tonight she shaved and washed her hair twice before wrapping herself in a silk robe and making a small dinner to accompany her glass of wine. She nestled down on her couch and took a deep breath, adjusting and readjusting the computer on the coffee table, her hands shaking a bit with nerves. Goose bumps formed on her skin, and she didn’t know if it was anticipation or the chill from her second glass of white wine.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Lisa asking if she was feeling better. Sophie felt a little bit guilty, but she ignored it. Peter wouldn’t want to be interrupted by a text session with Lisa.

Sophie pulled her hair back in a loose bun and leaned forward, letting her fingers skim down her thighs. Then she whispered, “Okay, Peter, what do you have for me tonight?”

Click.

“Hi everyone, I’m Peter Segal and this is Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me.”

via Hydrate Nightclub

III.

Raphael promised himself he wouldn’t cry this time. His sisters gave him enough of a hard time when he left the house wearing wrist cuffs and eyeliner. He didn’t need more teasing over his inability to control his emotions.

His sisters thought he was headed for Hydrate. He should have been headed for Hydrate, but Raphael was tired of that scene.

He looked at his phone. Almost eight o’clock. Jordan said he’d be there by 7:45. Raphael quickly texted. Sorry. Running late.

Jordan texted back a minute later. You said it was important. You had something you wanted to show me.

Raphael swallowed past the lump in his throat and didn’t respond. He’d rehearsed his speech to Jordan over and over. It needed to be perfect. Jordan needed to believe him, need to be seduced by everything Raphael had to say. Raphael rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and approached Buckingham Fountain slowly. Jordan’s back was turned so Raphael had time to gather up his courage. He stepped up and placed his hands gently on Jordan’s shoulders.

“Just listen…” he whispered, not allowing Jordan to turn or see his face. “The most beautiful thing in the world is right here in front of you, in front of us…”

What felt like hours passed as Raphael wove a spell around Jordan, whispering about beauty and gushing jets of fluid. He bared himself to Jordan, putting all of himself into his words. Finally, he released Jordan and allowed him to turn. Raphael held his breath as Jordan gazed at him in admiration and incredulity.

“That was… I mean, Raphael, that was beautiful. Honest. Heartfelt. And you got it all out without crying. I don’t know what to say.”

Raphael’s face cracked open in a wide grin. “So do you think I’ll get it? Do you think they’ll let me give architectural tours?”

Jordan smiled back. “I can’t imagine them not hiring you.”

Raphael wagged his eyebrows. “Well, if you liked Buckingham Fountain, just wait until you hear what I’ve got planned for the Bean.”

Christa Desir writes young adult novels and is also a romance editor for Samhain Publishing. You can find her at www.christadesir.com.