Free Requisite Vices by Miranda Veil Page A

approaches a woman behind a desk enclosed in glass.
    I can do nothing but stare at him, my jaw hanging open. Overnight?
    He looks over at me and reads my expression.
    “Well you’re certainly in no condition to drive tonight.” He muses.
    “I suppose you’re right.”
    I can barely stand up straight. Even driving the short distance down the road would be incredibly dangerous and idiotic.
    “It would be $25.”  The woman behind the counter yawns.
    He pulls out his wallet and hands her the money and I ask for the keys. I’m certainly not going back to his place without at least a change of clothes. Thankfully, I stash a bag in the trunk of my car for such emergencies.
    She prints the receipt, and hands them over. 
    “Your car is up on the 5 th floor.”
    “The 5 th floor?!”
    I’m having enough trouble walking in these heels with the alcohol coursing through my veins, as it is. I don’t want to imagine how much of a challenge it would be to walk up five flights.
    “It’s not as bad as you may think. Trust me! The stairs are right there behind you.”
    She smiles, a sly spark in her eyes as she looks over us. I’m sure she has seen this dozens of times before. We shouldn’t be an anomaly.
    I place the keys in my purse and turn around. The stairs are dangerously narrow and steep, and my pulse is racing just thinking of all the terrible things that could happen.
    Squeezing my hand in reassurance, he leads me to the first step.
    “After you, Miss Roman. I’ll walk behind you in case you lose your footing.”
    “How comforting…” I mumble dryly.
    My hands rest on the railings and my heart picks up its pace as a wave of claustrophobia crashes against my body. The railings are far too close to my hips for comfort, and I feel as if they’ll take on a life of their own and strangle me between them. How does anyone manage to squeeze up these stairs?
    After braving the first eight steps, we’ve reached the 2 nd floor and after another four, we’re at the 3 rd .
    “I guess this isn’t so bad.”
    “Not at all. Besides, I have a great view of your ass.”
    I can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, and feel his hands reach up to grab my ass, then smack it playfully. Stifling a moan, I grip the rails of the stairs just a bit tighter to keep myself steady. Someone could be watching us, and I love the thought of it.
    We quickly reach the 5 th floor, and my car is conveniently parked right in front of us. Popping the trunk, I reach in and grab the bag which he offers to carry for me, then we make the precarious trip down the stairs of death.
    Going down is significantly worse than coming up. I can’t push the thought of tumbling headfirst, all the way down, out of my head.
    The trip to his place is a long one, and halfway through what feels like a 10 mile hike, my feet go feel numb. Damn these heels. Had I known I would be walking this much, I would’ve shoved a pair of sneakers in my bag.
    He pulls me into an ‘Irish Pub’ on the corner, only in name, of course. It’s a pretty dingy place, with a few pool tables and some girls huddled in a corner watching two guys play. He pulls out a chair for me, and goes to the bar to get a drink.
    “I vaguely remember you mentioning being partial to rum and coke” He smiles as he approaches the table, and places a drink in front of me. I don’t ever remember mentioning I’m a fan of it, but I’m nervous, sore, tired, and my hormones are raging. The smoldering fire I try so hard to keep at bay on a daily basis has become a blazing, overpowering volcano on the edge of blowing. I want him.
    He reaches over and plucks my purse from my lap, where I was clutching it protectively, and lays it on the chair next to me. I didn’t realize I was holding it.
    “Remember, you don’t have to hide from me. I realize it’s a bit of a security blanket, but you don’t have to worry when you’re with me. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
    He’s mesmerizing. He’s left me exposed