Free Sacrifice by John Everson Page B

whispered.
    Jeremy’s heart leaped. Hadn’t he just gotten through telling himself that he was too tired to even try anymore? And here was a girl who’d piqued his interest, apparently showing…interest?
    “Name your poison,” he choked out.
    “Sex,” she whispered, and then laughed at the look on his face.
    “Oh, you meant to drink.” Her voice was cool, high. Just a hint of roughness when she dropped it to a whisper. Pat Benatar meets Lindsay Lohan.
    “I’ll take a gin and tonic,” she said.
    Jeremy gave her order to the bartender the next time he came around. The woman clutched his arm and leaned to his shoulder.
    “Thank you, good sir. You’ve saved a thirsty lady.”
    “Thirsty for what, though, is the question,” Jeremy spit out, aghast at himself that he could even dare to play at words with a stranger like this.
    “Hmmm,” she said, raising a thin black eyebrow and rubbing a hand down her ribs provocatively.
    “Methinks I’ve played my hand too early.”
    Jeremy thought of his wife, probably straddling her sugar daddy right now, maybe in his own bed. A cloud fell across his eyes and he shook his head and stared intently at the woman.
    “I don’t want to play any games,” he said. “I’ve played enough lately. I know this is uncouth and you’ll probably walk away from me as soon as I say it and I’m fine with that if you do.”
    She stared at him cooly, without expression.
    “Tell me what you want,” he continued. “If you want a free drink, fine. You’re a pretty lady, and I’m happy to buy you one. If you’re looking for a pickup, I might be interested. But tell me up front what you want. I don’t have the patience for games right now.”
    The woman in black arched an eyebrow, but didn’t smile. Her drink came, and she lifted it to her lips, without taking her eyes off Jeremy. She took a sip and replaced it on the bar.
    “I want to take you back to my hotel and fuck you to death,” she said finally. “No games.”
    “Finish your drink,” he said. “Then we’ll go.”
    They didn’t say another word until they left the bar.
    “What’s your name?” he finally asked, on the way back to her hotel. She sat primly in the passenger’s seat, both hands creamy white against the midnight of her thighs.
    “Air,” she said. “You?”
    “Short for what?” he prodded.
    “Ariana.”
    He nodded, as if that meant something.
    “I’m Jeremy. I’ve got a wife and a kid, in case you’re wondering. I’m pretty sure she’s fucking around on me when I’m not home.”
    “So that makes it alright to pick up a woman like me in a bar.”
    “Not at all,” he said, glancing at her as they pulled up to a stoplight.
    “I just don’t fucking care anymore. You look hot, you were looking for someone to get off with, and frankly, I’m intrigued. I wasn’t looking, wasn’t even in the mood ‘til you showed up.”
    “Will she be hurt if she finds out?” Ariana asked.
    “Not as hurt as I was,” he said, and pulled into the parking lot of the Radisson.
    He opened the car door for her, and held out an arm to escort her into the hotel. She smiled, a little bitterly he thought, and wrapped her hand around his thick forearm as they stepped into the bright blue-tiled lobby and walked across the thick carpet to the elevators.
    “I’m on fifteen,” she said, and he pressed the button, leaning back against the car directly across from her.
    “I’m starting to feel fifteen,” he said. “Are you sure you want to do this with a grumpy, balding auto parts salesman from Tallahassee? You could do a lot better.”
    “You’re what I want to night,” she said, and led him from the elevator to 1511. She slipped her key card through the slot and then slipped into the bedroom, motioning him to follow.
    Jeremy watched the muscles flex in her ass as she walked across the small hotel room and pulled the drapes shut. She was a piece of ass. The nicest he’d ever gotten near, truth be told. He