I'm Safe Up High Who: Nish & Rafael. What: Nish meets our friendly neighbourhood porn star. Where: CASKET. When: Early February
Today had been a good day. She’d managed to plough through the pile of dockets on her desk, balance the books so that both she and her secretary got paid and the lights stayed on in the office, and there was actually something left over. She’d left work today with the ‘this could actually work’ feeling that assured her that moving down here had been a good thing. Despite the weather.
Feeling celebratory, she decided to go out for a drink or five. Maybe chat up some of the local barflies in their natural habitat. Casket had seemed nice when she was there with Chris the other day, so it was the first place that came to mind.
There was a crowd tonight, so she maneuvered through it towards the bar, barely able to hear what any of them were saying over the music. She caught the eye of the bartender and ordered herself a shot, flirting unabashedly with him as she did. She was definitely in a playful mood, and the alcohol would only enhance it.
She had just downed her second shot and ordered a third when she caught sight at another guy at the bar. And damn if she didn’t know that face. Her face flushed, but she couldn’t place why that would be or for that matter, who he was. But god, was he gorgeous. She allowed her eyes to trace him up and down, her slightly muddled brain doing its best to match him up with some memory but coming up empty. All she knew was that her brain associated that face with excitement...was he one of the many people throughout the day that she secretly thought was hot? It had to be, who else would he be?
She picked up her third shot and headed down the bar towards him. Leaning against the seat next to him and speaking loud enough to be heard over the music. “I know you,” she said pointedly, but hadn’t thought much farther ahead than that. It would drive her crazy if she didn’t figure this out.
"Oh?" The man quirked a brow, but he did not move away. Smiling softly, he raised his glass to his lips. Red wine, by the looks of it: something thick and dark and heavy. It stained his lips, giving them a faint sheen even after a swipe of his tongue. He cast a long look over her, settling at last on her face. It was clear he was trying to place her and coming up short. He set his glass down, turning slightly in his seat to better face her. The music was loud, throbbing over and between them, but he did not raise his voice.
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure we've met. I'm Rafael."
Something in the back of her mind was struggling to get out, an annoyingly elusive memory becoming more and more insistent at the sound of his voice. He was quiet, so she had to listen hard to tune out the background noise, but that voice was just as familiar to her as his face and it caused a slight butterfly of excitement in her belly. Who was he? His name didn’t ring a bell, but everything else about him did.
“Nishka,” she replied, turning so that her back was to the bar. She put her shot down and planted her hands on either side of her, hoisting herself up onto the barstool next to him. “You don’t go running by the beach at about 6am, do you?” she asked him, but even as the words left her mouth she knew that wasn’t it. She’d heard his voice before, she had an auditory memory and she was positive she’d heard that particular voice before. She picked up her shot and knocked it back, flipping the glass upside down onto the bar and hoping the cute bartender would get the hint.
He chuckled. "No," he said, "I'm usually still asleep at six. If I'm up that early it's probably to go surfing."
The bartender returned, leaving a fresh shot glass and the bottle. He left with a mischievous grin on his face, but perhaps wisely had no comment for either patron. Rafael turned over the shot glass, pouring a generous measure for his companion.
"Pleasure to meet you, Nishka," he continued. "That's a very pretty name. What does it mean?"
She winked at the bartender as he went off to serve other people, eyeing the bottle of tequila greedily. So she’d walk home tonight, she thought, until Rafael poured her another shot and her eyebrow raised on its own. Okay then, maybe a cab. She picked it up and winked at him, raising it as if in toast and then downing number four, reaching for the bowl of lime wedges beside her on the bar and pulling one out to idly suck on while she thought of an answer.
“It means...my parents have a sense of humour,” she laughed. “I have absolutely no idea what it means, my mom just threw a dart at a baby name book.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she wasn’t getting into it at a bar. He chuckled in answer. “But you...no, I’ve gotta figure this out.” She leant on the bar a little, as if trying to get a closer look, though they probably couldn’t get much closer without being indecent.
“You’re not one of those asshat District Attorneys, are you?” she asked, though her tone made it clear she was playing. Yes, professionally they had to be on opposite sides, and yes, she thought a lot of them were idiots, but some were actually really good at what they do. She was just better.
He laughed again, shaking his dark head as he bent down over his glass. They were so close now the motion nearly brushed her raised hand with one long, tousled lock. "No again," he said. His fingers toyed with the stem of his wine glass, slowly turning it atop the bar. "I think you get one more guess, and then you have to buy me a drink. Isn't that how it works?"
She knew she was well on her way to being drunk when the slight brush of his hair on the back of her hand made her shiver. Behave yourself, Nish, she heard from somewhere, but summarily ignored it. She was a big girl, she could handle herself. And she was sitting next to a bottle of tequila and a very attractive puzzle. And besides, for all she knew he was a fine upstanding citizen, who wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of an increasingly intoxicated woman while she-
“Ohh my god, I’ve seen your cock,” she blurted out before the thought had even formed in her head. Her eyes went wide and she jerked her hand to cover her mouth, but all that accomplished was some tequila spilled on her front and his shoulder. She started to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I’m sorry, you just look like...I’m so sorry…”
He cleared his throat. The faintest of blushes had risen to his cheeks, dusting tanned skin a shade darker. "Um, well…" He raised his glass to her in toast. "Third time's a charm, I guess. Congratulations." Then he hid his abashed smile behind the rim of his glass, downing what remained of his wine while motioning to the bartender for another. The man promptly moved to respond.
His subtle embarrassment was a strange look, perhaps, for a man who earned his living in various states of undress, but it was not at all feigned. He looked up to her, dark lashes and darker hair concealing some small part of the curiosity in his eyes. "I hope you, uh, enjoyed whatever you saw," he said, chuckling self-consciously.
Nish bit her lip and grinned, catching the slight blush on his cheeks. He was embarrassed? That was...unexpected. She wasn’t, though, beyond the initial shock of finally placing him. She motioned to the bartender that she would pay for Rafael’s refill. “Hey, I had more fun with you than most of my old boyfriends,” she smirked, clinking what was left in her shot glass against his new glass of wine. He laughed aloud, happily returning her toast.
“Seriously though, what are you doing in a place like this?” She leant on the bar again and tipped back the half shot left in the glass. “Shouldn’t you be living it up at 54 doing body shots and lines off a hooker’s ass or something?” Compared to the high life, this place was a hole in the wall.
Again he laughed; it was a bright sound, as clear and unabashed as his earlier blush. "Maybe so," he said. "I don't know. I like it here. It's close to home, they know me…" He gestured to the bartender. "It's a good place to relax." He smiled, and gestured to her prim, well tailored clothes. "You don't really look the type, either. But here we are. What do you do, Nishka, if you don't mind my asking?"
She glanced at the bartender when he did. “They don’t know me yet, but they will.” She poured herself another shot. What was this, five now? She could still count, so it was fine. Instead of drinking it right away though, she took another slice of lime and bit into it. And then almost choked on the juice at his question.
“I do my best to keep the dregs of society out of the prison system,” she replied. Over simplified? Sure, but it wasn’t wrong. “Public Defender,” she clarified, then shrugged, “though I’m building up my own practice so I can be my own boss.” She’d been in a firm in Chicago, but the sole practitioner gig was new.
"Wow." He blinked almost doeishly, nodding. "Impressive stuff. They're not all 'dregs,' though, are they?" He shifted in his seat, turning the glass of wine in his hands once more. "I imagine you've helped more than a few decent people. Or I'd like to think that, anyway." He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe I just watch too much Daredevil."
She nodded back, “Ohh you’re right, there’s an obscene amount of innocent people who get run through the system for no reason, and it’s cases like that that help me sleep at night. But for every good citizen who gets railroaded until they end up on my docket, there are two that use me to cheat the system.” She poured another shot - four, right? - and held it up to the light. “But ‘every citizen is entitled to fair and impartial representation’. God bless America.” She tapped her shot to his glass again and knocked it back. Three? No, four. That’s not that many.
"So they say," Rafael answered, not sounding entirely convinced. His fresh glass of wine was disappearing far more slowly than her shots. As her drinking increased, his slowed to almost nothing. He kept an eye on her, subtly monitoring her for signs of overindulgence. "You had a long day?" he guessed, nodding toward the shot glass and the bottle of liquor.
She caught the hint and smiled, but it didn’t stop her from pouring another. “Today was actually a good day,” she admitted. Her eyes fell on his and her sluggish brain formulated what it thought was a clever plan. “You could make it better, though.” ’Smooth,’ that second voice chided her. She could even hear the sarcasm and winced a little. “Sorry, I’m sure you get that a lot. It’s kinda hard not to think that though,” she admitted, biting her lip and looking away.
"I do," he said. From anyone else it might have sounded like bragging; from him, it was merely a statement of fact. "But it's okay. I understand." The wine glass spun lazily again. He watched her, his smile fading a little with her next shot. There were questions he wanted to ask, but no diplomatic ways to ask them. Each one died on his lips, leaving him reaching for something to say.
"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," he tried. "I'm just not really…" He gestured, searching for the words. "I don't really do random hookups." Anymore, he almost added.
She closed her eyes and the room spun as she sighed out her frustration. She could make him want it, and she almost tried, but her experience has been that it didn’t work when she was drunk. And he was such an unexpectedly nice guy, she didn’t want to do that to him. “It’s okay, I get it,” she murmured, but disappointment was hard to mask. It had been so long and he was so close and she was so...
"And I do have a shoot in a couple of days, so I shouldn't, anyway. Maybe after that, if you wanted…"
She opened her eyes again. “I’d like to see that,” she said before she could stop herself. She didn’t exactly have ‘favourite’ porn stars, usually when she watched it was for one reason only, but she had seen enough of him to recognize him, and she’d liked what she saw. A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’ll be good,” she added, a flutter of hope forming again. Not now, but maybe later.
Smiling, he cleared his throat, only half hiding a quiet laugh. "Closed sets," he said. "But I'll be sure to tell you when it's out." Nish nodded with a slight chuckle. He took a small sip from his wine, quietly pleased her own drinking appeared to have slowed. He reached out to a small stack of napkins at the edge of the bar, pulling one from the top. "So is this... interest of yours, in me, personal or professional?"
She glanced at the last shot she’d poured, contemplating it and feeling her stomach turn slightly. ’That’s enough,’ the voice scolded, ’you need to get home.’ She picked it up and studied the liquid inside. ’Last one,’ she argued, drinking it down and turning the glass upside down on the bar. “Which would you prefer?” she asked, meeting his eyes and finding it hard to focus for too long on them. She was done with relationships, but she has had several successful friends-with-benefits in her time.
She glanced over her shoulder as the bartender came back. Shifting slightly, she slipped her credit card from her pocket and handed it to him. “I’ll get his too,” she said, nodding to Rafael.
"Thanks," he said, as the bartender walked away, their tab and her card in hand. He thought long on her question, turning the little white cocktail napkin over and over in his fingers. "I'm not sure," he answered at last, nakedly honest. "I'm not taking any new clients right now. Or I hadn't planned to, anyway. Why don't we just see what happens."
He took the pen from the bartender upon the man's return, and hastily scrawled a phone number on the thin paper napkin. He passed it and the pen back to her. "The shoot's done by Monday morning. Call me after, if you haven't changed your mind."
She wasn't sure what he meant by clients, but he was thinking of bending the rule for her. She flushed at the idea, watching him write down his number and thinking of all the other phone numbers she'd gotten on a cocktail napkin.
She reached for it, and closed her hand around his, playfulness gone, heart thumping against her ribs. Her eyes met his and she leant forward to take what she wanted. It was a soft kiss, downright chaste compared to what she was feeling, but she could taste wine when she sighed against his lips. “I won't,” she promised, pulling the napkin from his hand and slipping awkwardly from the barstool.
He watched her as she went, a smile playing on his lips. His tongue flicked out to one corner of his mouth; beneath the wine, beneath the tequila, he tasted something distinctly her. Rafael could not help but wonder if he had made the right call in staying behind. But decisions made in haste were regretted in time; he had learned that well enough, and many times over.
"Get home safely," he said. "I hope I see you very soon."
She called a cab, let her head fall back against the back seat, breathing hard. Stumbled to the elevator, managed to unlock her apartment and collapse into bed. All the while her mind was still back in that bar, still kissing him, still looking at him. Her head spun and her ears throbbed in the quiet of her apartment, her hands clutching at the sheets under her to hold back nausea.
Bear hopped up on the bed beside her, purring so loud she was sure the neighbours would hear, and began to lick her face. “Not. Helping,” she chuckled. Moments later she passed out.