reading

GLITZ KIDS

3 / 7

Doom

Alexandria Emilia Rawa

Cover: Giada Armani

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

Kamila // Munich // 18 May 2013

"Rico! I didn't think you’d come," I exclaim in surprise as I actually see him standing in front of the door to my suite.

It's already after 11 p.m. at night and he hadn't responded to my message. Of course, I couldn't leave the door open. But now he is suddenly here and my heart is beating much faster than when we make an appointment in advance. I may hate surprises, but this one's okay. I could have more.

"Sorry, I slept after the game," he says and smiles apologetically.

"Never mind, you're here now." I'm really not angry at all, but even if I were, it would fly away by now. His smile immediately gives me soft knees and this terrible tingling in my stomach and heart. Everywhere, actually.

"Did you see the game?" he asks as he walks in. I notice that he limps a little, and he looks tired and exhausted.

"Yeah, but I didn't see you getting injured at all?"

"Oh, I've had a knee problem for quite some time," he waves. "Those are just the downsides of a sports career. Long story."

"Okay."

I approach him and put my hands on his neck. A very delicate note of his scent drifts over to me and I pass out internally, must seriously pull myself together not to sigh loudly because the scent is so unbearably wonderful. I can feel his hands at my waist and his legs and his pelvis as he pulls me slightly and kisses me on my smiling lips. It's just a soft welcoming kiss, but even that makes me immediately forget everything around me. I can't stop smiling, even when we separate from each other again.

"I'd say I'm sorry for you losing the game, but I don't think you want to hear that right now," I ask.

"No," he shakes his head. "I'm glad that I don't have to think about it anymore. Everybody's in such a good mood at my place, it's disgusting. I just had to get out of there."

I look at him and everything inside me celebrates. I've never felt anything like it. That was the most beautiful and best and goose-pimple-making compliment he could have given me. I know for myself that I am pretty and thin and talented. For the rest, there are credit cards. But Rico leaving home at 11:00 at night to come to me, it's un-fucking-believable.

I'll kiss him again and again. Then I feel for his hand and my fingers slide automatically between his.

"Come, we'll have a room service and then we'll play a cool game," I decide and lead him into the living room of the suite, that is already so familiar as if it were our own living room.

I hear Rico laughing quietly.

"Well, I didn't mean a game like that," I improve immediately and feel my cheeks getting hot and blushing.

"I mean a real game. Well, not Monopoly or anything. I hate Monopoly. You know what I hate most? When there's someone playing with you who just buys every fucking street no matter where he goes. So completely useless. This is complete..." - I'm breaking up because I'm talking my brains out.

Oh, man, how embarrassing is this? I'm sober, but it's still all spinning inside of me. Rico chuckles on, visibly possessed.

"I'm serious," I indignantly play with my hair, slightly uncomfortably touched, but I also have to grin. "You'll see what I mean in a moment. But first, I'll order us a drink. You have the choice between... Alexander or Alexander."

***

"I've never...", I begin and expand the 'never', long and thoughtfully. "Oh, I know! Participated in a soccer world championship!"

"Neither did I," assures Rico. "Well, at least not on a real one. Only under twenty-one, but that..."

"Point for me! Take it off!"

"Oh, man, that's unfair," he protests. "You got a lot more to undress than I do."

"Your mother has more to take off than I do," I laugh and take another sip from my third Alexander as I watch him blatantly put his T-shirt over his head.

I love this game. We take turns drinking and hitting things we've never done before. And every time the other is less innocent in one way or another, the other has to take off a piece of clothing. Their own clothing, of course. Altruism isn't in my nature, is it?

Rico is just wearing his boxer shorts and I bathe in the sight of him. The only light in the room comes from a golden orange table lamp and it flatters his features so much that it hurts.

I, on the other hand, am still blazing high and happy with my bra, panties, and pantyhose dressed on my chaise lounge. I have simply said, stiffly and firmly, that the rules are that a ring on the finger equals a garment. By chance, I wore five of these.

I think the game is a good distraction. He told me earlier about his knee and that he was doped at the game. With the help of my snow. But he didn't look happy, and my bad conscience naturally gave me a painful slap in the face. Right now, Rico seems to be okay though.

"Okay, okay, then it's my turn again," he says. "I've never cursed my mother before."

I open my eyes and look at him in amazement. "Never?"

"Never."

"Wow, Pfister. You’re boring..." I sigh with a rolling sigh. "And mother jokes are so good! They always stay. Just like videos of cats after general anesthesia."

I grin and then slowly roll my pantyhose off my legs and let it sail into some corner.

My thoughts are with Rico all the time, and when I squint to the side for a moment, I see how his gaze follows me. He sits in his armchair like a demigod, decadent with the cocktail glass in his hand, but his looks are clear. Clearly ambiguous, like the whole gambling around should be. Everything, really everything we do or say, now serves only to push each other. It's like a game in a game. And it makes the air between us crackle so much that it almost tingles on the skin.

"While we're on the subject..." I continue. "Then here's what I'll say: I've never met my mother."

"How?" Rico wonders.

"Well, just like that. She took off when I was one or two," I reply with a shrug. "That's why I curse on her, by the way."

"Terrible. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. It's her own loss. I don't know where she lives now, but I hope she sees me in all the glossy magazines and grieves herself to death," I reply. "Now get undressed!"

Rico clicks his tongue unhappily and looks down at himself, seems to be thinking. I don't let him out of my sight for a second, watching the play of the muscles under his skin, the protruding veins. And once again it annoys me that there is no explicit German word for the English apodyopsis. Why the hell isn’t there?! If you’re, slightly drunk, in the middle of the night have Rico sitting in an armchair in front of you, then you goddamn want nothing more than to drown in apodyopsis. Dear Germanists, you sons of dogs, I feel restricted by the lack of this expression in my vocabulary!

Then Rico tears me out of my thoughts because he grabs his neck and loosens his silver chain with the wedding ring.

"I assume that that counts, too," he asks and immediately stows the chain in a pocket of his jeans lying on the floor.

The scene passes me by like slow motion. My heart rate slows down as if I had lost consciousness, only to accelerate again from zero to one hundred seconds later. I'm breathless. It's like a roller coaster, and alcohol does the rest. I swing my legs off the chaiselongue, forget about my cocktail. I'm full of serotonin and adrenaline and thoughts of Rico, and I have to be honest about not jumping at him right away. But there's one more thing I want to do. I'm reaching for my cell phone. Just a few percent battery left. Damn it, but whatever, it'll have to be done now.

"What are you doing?" asks Rico.

"I want to post a quick selfie on Instagram," I reply dryly and giggle.

"Relax, that was fun!" I laugh as I see Rico's eyes flare up in fright. "I'll put on some music if it's okay."

"Sure." he answers and grins relieved. "But no hits."

I plug the cable from my speakers into my iPhone, looking at Rico. My dirty punk rock playlist sounds. He nods approvingly. Three steps later I'm with him, sitting on the wide armchair, half on his lap, but trying to spare his right knee.

"I won the game by the way..." I whisper to him, and my voice trembles a little bit, because I was looking forward to exactly this moment like a teenager.

I reach into his soft brown hair and kiss his half-open mouth. Mine, all mine. Admittedly, I had already got used to this chain, but now I feel that for the very first time this last little border between us is gone.

I sigh into the kiss as he slowly kisses me back with his tongue. It has a creamy chocolate-like flavor and an alcohol aftertaste, just like a good Alexander. Oh, my God, it's addictive. At some point, I asked myself what Rico would taste like if he were a cocktail, and now I have the answer. Rico is an Alexander. The most perfect cocktail in the world. Why didn't I notice it until now?

Our kisses are getting faster, more eager. We have been in a playful non-verbal dialogue for the last hour, and now it is physically discharging. Finally.

Rico lets my bra fly away and I stretch out like a cat when he starts kissing my cleavage and chest. His hands grip firmly into my bottom, and I shudder under small heat and desire waves. I don't know where to put my own hands anymore because he is driving me so crazy. I am as soft as butter and claw myself into his shoulders, pant rough because at that moment his fingers glide into my crotch. At the moment, I want to spread my legs further, but my knees just bump against the backs of the stupid armchair. A frustrated growl slips away from me, mixed with an aroused sigh. I slide back and forth on Rico's hand, but it's not optimal, and I can't wait. I'm hungry and damn impatient, and yes, horny.

"Let's go to bed...", I whisper between two breaths, lift my pelvis from his and climb down a little awkwardly, because my legs are soft again.

On the way to paradise, to this huge, soft bed, I playfully turn to Rico, catch his dark gaze in the dim light. Apodyopsis. It gives me creeps. Then I hack my thumbs into the sides of my panties and graze it off me without blinking. Rico plays along, holding my gaze bravely, even though he's already grinning dirty. My pulse shoots to unexpected heights as he pushes his boxer shorts from his narrow hips. And then, I lose myself. Jesus Christ, I don't give a shit right now, but I have to look at him. Goggle from top to bottom.

With an energetic movement, I knock the duvets aside and drop onto the king size mattress. In the background, I hear atmospheric bass guitars vibrating, just like everything inside me trembles with expectation. From the corner of my eye, I can see the moon shining into the suite.

With the next blink of an eye, Rico's there. I have to close my eyes to feel better how his hot body nestles up against mine, our legs partly wound over and into each other. I don't know, I can't think anymore. We roll around and I feel only his kisses, his warm tongue on my lips, my neck, and his dick on my thigh.

It's actually no longer respectable to have a naked man lying here. Only my heart says otherwise. It beats to my neck, irregular, and excited, and joyful and... Everything goes so fast. When I lift my eyelids to perhaps understand what is happening, Rico is all I see and all I need to see.