Douse (Book One: At the Edge of a Hurricane) Read Online Free PDF

dialing the number. The patio outside gives space to talk without
his interference.
    “Hey,”
Bishop says.
    “You.
Me. Something. This week. Yes?”
    “I
don’t speak cave woman, miss.”
    “Suggest
a place and I’ll be there then.”
    “You’re
still interested?”
    “I
didn’t call to say I’m not.”
    Bishop
exhales deeply, and I inhale his voice, the pretty, petty sound of him heaving
and hawing.
    “Our
second date,” he says, “if we can call it that, could be the
arcade. Do you like arcade games?”
    “Too
many to list. I do.”
    And
it’s creepy of me, but when I hear the words ‘I do’ I hear
wedding bells.
    I
know. Absolutely ridiculous. He doesn’t know me and neither do I him. But
how can you not fantasize about these kinds of encounters? Someone like him
doesn’t date girls like me often. I know these guys. They like the
puritan types.
    “I’ll
call you,” he says. “Is that okay?”
    “Taking
the lead now?”
    “A
little bit of dominance on my part, yeah. You like?”
    “I
do. Call me soon, then.”
    “I
will.”
    A
twenty one year-old shouldn’t be so…sophomoric. I don’t
understand. In high school, I’d never fallen for guys left or right.
Studies came first, then cheerleading, then maybe a guy for the night to keep
me company when my parents were abusive.
    In
college, I’d never fallen for any of those guys I slept with. Never.
They’d served me. They worked for me. They pleasured me and I gained
immensely.
    Now
Mr. Muscles Bishop runs in and I’m no better than a brainless belle.
    “You
seem shocked,” Caddy says. “Something bad happen?”
    “He
asked me out this time.” I grab Caddy’s monitor to still my
quivering hands. He watches them vibrate relentlessly, smirking at my sudden
inability to control myself.
    “You
seem star struck.”
    “I’m
not,” I lie. “He’s just something’s funky. I sense it.
You remember in college, you could sense the bad guys right out from a crowd.
I’m in that mode. He’s too perfect. Something’s lurking and
about to get me. T he Universe.”
    “Or
you’re paranoid and should just relax.”
    “I’m
not paranoid.”
    “You’re
definitely on edge.”
    “I’m
not. I’m flustered is all.”
    “It’s
the same thing.” Caddy smirks and rips my hand away. “You’re
finally getting out there though. That’s fucking good for you. Maybe now
your productivity will actually increase for once.”
    “I
had lots of productivity getting the majority of our answers back in junior
year.”
    “If
you can call sex work.”
    “Sex
work is a thing.” I swing a chair next to Caddy and review his data
tables. The Chinese kids need their papers within two weeks. Apparently their
syllabus lists the exact date they’re supposed to turn in their
assignments. And the Angolan girls will need help this coming week.
    Most
of our operations nowadays are run online. But with the internationals we like
to meet them in person. An international trusts you more if you bridge the
cultural gap in person. Plus, Caddy thinks I need the exposure to other
cultures.
    “Don’t
do any stupid shit when you meet them,” Caddy says. “Especially
with the Chinese guys. They’re old money.”
    “And
who’re you going to be meeting while I’m doing them?”
    “Hah.
Doing.”
    “Seriously.”
    “I’ll
be working with some Saudi Arabian kids. Mixed bunch. They contacted me
yesterday night.” Caddy eyes my still shaking hand. “You must
really like him.”
    “I
do, Caddy. I do.”
     
    I
dream of wedding bells.
    Yes,
I’m going into full-blown infatuation mode. Peak height of desire.
    The
specifics loom in a dreamy foreground. Who are the brides maids? Who’s
family is that at the front row? I don’t know. They’re all blurry
faces, centerpieces to compliment my lust and romantic want. The candles change
colors every second, red, blue, orange, green, white. Drapes shift and spin and
become aquarelle brush strokes, swirling zags decorating