I barely suppressed an epic eye roll. "Trust me, he's not crazy, and if he's damaged at least he's really hot." I sucked the last of my cigarette down and stubbed it out in the ceramic ashtray by the bed. Felicia doesn't smoke, so it's mostly there for my benefit. I saw that the stubs I'd left in there the last time I'd come over to her studio were still languishing at the bottom. What a sad existence. I sighed. "And he gives really good head, and that's not the sort of thing you want to just fling to the wind at the first sign of trouble."
Her mouth pursed again, and I could see she was struggling to formulate a counterargument, but I knew she probably didn't have one. Her own husband was pretty fucked up, too, but, from what I could tell, he was amazing in the sack. You can't just throw that shit away lightly. Of course he was also madly in love with her and the feelings were reciprocated, so I suppose he had that going for him, too. All I had from Malcolm Ward was a bunch of weird interactions and one great orgasm.
It had been a really, really good orgasm, though.
Why is life so hard? I thought to myself.
"You're into him," Felicia said at last.
I wasn't quite prepared to admit that, so I made a joke. "Yeah, I was in his mouth yesterday afternoon," I said.
Felicia made a face, but my crude attempt at changing the subject was nevertheless effective. "So that's it?" she said. "Did he take any pictures?"
I blinked. "Oh! Yeah, he did. A ton of them, in fact." Some of which I was feeling quite embarrassed by at this point, but I couldn't do anything about that now. "He's never done anything artistic as far as I can tell, but yesterday he said he wanted to become a... a brilliant madman, connecting to the pulse of the universe through his art and that I was his 'inspiration.'"
She arched an eyebrow at that. "Oh, really? He just decided he wanted to be a brilliant artist?"
"That's what I said."
She returned to her clay, giving it a few good whacks with the table leg before pausing. "I guess that's one way to go about it. I mean, don't we all decide we want to be brilliant artists at some point?"
"Yeah. After making art, not before."
Whack. Whack. "So? Maybe he's got a talent for it. Have you seen the pictures yet?"
I shook my head. "Nope. He said he'd call me today."
"Before or after he gave you head?"
"After."
"Well, he still wants to see you after giving head. At least you didn't scare him away by smelling bad or something."
I lit another cigarette. "Watch out," I told her. "I've decided to be an arsonist and I'm going to burn down your studio."
"You've already tried that a couple times," Felicia said. "You don't have the knack for it."
Dammit. She was right. I cracked a beer and sipped it while she tried to beat her clay to death. I was just contemplating drinking the whole six pack by myself to erase my memories of the past twenty-four hours when my phone rang. I jumped and nearly dropped my beer.
Felicia clicked her tongue. "You're really into him."
I rolled my eyes and checked the number. Yup, that would be Malcolm. Said so right there on the screen.
I hesitated.
"Maybe you'll get anal this time," Felicia said.
"Shut up," I told her, and hit answer.
"Yeah?" I said. Totally nonchalant. I'm hardcore like that.
"I was wondering if you would like to come over and assist me in going over these photographs," Malcolm said without any preamble. His voice was distracted and distant, and it rankled me.
"I don't know," I told him. "Are you going to stick your tongue in my twat and then run away again?"
"Sadie!" Felicia hissed, scandalized.
What? I mouthed back at her. He deserved to be called out. You can't just go around treating people like things. You gotta maybe buy them dinner first or something, or at the very least don't literally run away afterward. It was part of the social contract. That sort of thing could give a girl a complex.
On the other end of the line, Malcolm was silent, clearly impressed by my big brass ovaries. I was willing to bet no woman had ever spoken to him that way. I'd left him speechless with my wit.
"I'm not sure," he said at last. "Did you enjoy it?"
...Great. Now I was the one who was speechless. I tried hard not to look at Felicia. "Yes," I said. "I did, thanks."
A gust of air as he let out a sigh. "Good," he said. "I was worried. Please, come over and we can look at these photos. You can give me the critique of a professional."
And I had nothing to say to that, either, except, "Okay."
"See you soon." And he hung up without saying goodbye, like people on television do. I stared at my phone for a long moment before stuffing it back into my purse.