Aaron Pico backs it up at Bellator 183

When Bellator holds their events in San Jose, they usually put on some events that could only be classified as “hot fire”. Bellator 183 was no exception and with the some of their best fighting on…

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Different Tastes

This was the worst date Sara had ever been on. Her friend, Carrie, had demanded she meet this guy.

Carrie had milky white skin and gleaming blue eyes. She was somehow balanced delicacy and power in her movements. On top of her physical charms, Carrie was the funniest person she knew. This date would be bearable if she was with Carrie. Sara wondered this guy might feel the same way.

John had called on Sunday night for a Monday night date. The short notices seemed a sign. This was an obligatory situation. Sara understood those. Her family life was basically a string of obligatory situations.

He had chosen a tapas restaurant. He hadn’t even asked if Sara liked tapas. (She was meh about tapas these days.)

He suggested 5:30 for the date. Maybe he was going to squeeze in a better date later.

She arrived early. The restaurant was across from her office building. She had added some big earrings and lipstick, hoping that transformed her grey slacks and pink oxford shirt outfit into an evening look.

When he approached the table, she was stunned. He was tall, with thick hair in a sort of pompadour. His ropey, tattooed arms were displayed by his short-sleeved shirt. His face was masculine to the point of grotesque, yet she couldn’t look away.

“Hello. I’m John.” His voice was so formal, almost theatrically so, and utterly contradicted his rough appearance.

“Hello. I’m Sara.” She held her hand out.

He gave her hand a quick shake, so short if you blinked you would miss it.

He ordered numerous dishes, without confirming Sara’s tastes. The food came in waves. One small garlicky item after another.

The meal was largely silence punctuated by chewing and sipping. They barely touched on anything personal. As they walked out of the restaurant, she realized she didn’t even know him last name.

As he held the door, she asked, “What’s your last name?”

“King. Why ever did you ask?”

“Curious. I guess.”

“Did Carrie mention that we are to join her directly after dinner?”

“Ummm, no.” Sara was tempted to text to confirm. But, her excitement about potentially seeing Carrie was too great.

Carrie answered the door wearing sleep shorts and a tank top.

“Oh, no, did we wake you up?” Sara knew she should have texted.

“Not at all. I’ve been waiting.”

“I have martinis ready. Just made. Sit.”

Sara had never seen Carrie’s apartment. In the middle, there was a large, purple velvet couch and two ochre high-backed chairs. John and Carrie hung back, so Sara finally moved to sit. She deliberated about where, but finally fell into the couch. John joined her on one side, Carrie on the other.

“Sara, I’m glad you and John had a nice dinner.” Sara had wondered how Carrie got that impression. “John and I have been together for ages. He saw you once when he was in the office. He was smitten.”

Sara tried to understand what Sara was saying. All the words seemed to be contradictory.

Carried continued, “And, you know how attractive I find you. We wondered if you have ever thought of dating a couple. Or, even, spending a night with a couple.”

Sara was stunned. She had never. She could never. Or could she. “A couple?”

Carrie touched Sara’s hand. “I mean, I get this could just be physical. But, we want more. Like a real relationship. Dates. Texts. You know.”

“Certainly, Sara, you might have questions. You seem as you might.” John’s voice was quiet.

“Physical. Like what?” Sara finally said.

“For example, bluntly, I would love to have sex with you. And, I know Carrie would love to watch.”

Sara blushed in response.

“Might I kiss you Sara?” John stayed perfectly still.

“Okay,” Sara whispered.

John slowly leaned towards Sara. The first kiss was whisper gentle. Sara didn’t kiss back. She barely breathed. He looked into Sara’s eyes, wordlessly asking for consent.

Sara closed her eyes. Opening them, she noticed John’s patient gaze hadn’t wavered. She tipped her face towards him, mimicking his gentle kiss.

The kisses ramped up slowly. Sara’s hands reached for John’s shoulders. John mimicked her behavior. She moved; he followed. Clothing was peeled away, in time. Sara stopped for a moment, taking in the feel of the velvet on her ass. Soft but so unlike soft skin.

“Okay?” John asked. Sara answered with a small smile. But, then she realized, John wasn’t asking her. He was looking at Carrie, who was lounging in the side chair. Carrie’s hand was gently caressing her folds. When had she disrobed, Sara wondered. John waited for Carrie to respond. John’s broad smile slipped from his face as he turned back to Sara.

Suddenly, Sara felt uncomfortable. The velvet felt itchy. The room felt bright. John felt cold. Just as he moved his weight onto her, she pushed back.

Sara didn’t know what to say. How to stop this situation. She reached for her clothing, as if that was enough explanation.

“Sara, what’s going on, honey?” Carrie said as she moved towards her.

Sara focused on dressing. Her hands were shaking.

“Come on, Sara, tell me. If you want to stop, we can,” Carrie reasoned.

Sara finally lifted her eyes to meet Carrie’s blue ones. Before speaking, Sara took a few deep breaths. She thought about what she wanted to do. She remembered her boring date, the garlicky taste it had left in her mouth. She imagined how she wished this evening would have gone.

Less shaky now, Sara said, “Carrie, might I kiss you.”

Aaron Pico backs it up at Bellator 183

Different Tastes

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