Who: Mary Eunice and Wolfwood. What: One night stands. When: Sunday, 7/21. Where: Seedy little bar, Nick's place. Rating: R for not super duper descriptive sex, but it's still sex. Status: Complete!
Wolfwood was happy to get the chance to get out of his depressing-ass apartment. Drinks with a pretty girl were a nice distraction.
He was here now, dressed decently but nothing over the top, waiting for her. She’d be in red, she said. Blonde, dark eyes. Pretty. Sassy, too. He was interested in seeing where this might lead.
Mary Eunice had slipped into something shorter, something skimpier, and she’d walked to the bar. Taking cat calls to be a good sign, she stood outside waiting for her new friend to show up. When she saw him, she waved. “Hello, Nicholas,” she smirked. Her voice was, as always, a throaty, knowing purr.
This was a woman who knew what she was doing. “Mary, is it?” Wolfwood inclined his head. “What a pair of Biblical names we have. It’s nice to meet you.” She was indeed pretty, and it was nice to get a look at her firsthand. It was almost as if she was trying a little too hard, but that was her business, not his.
“Is Nicholas from the Bible?” She smiled and unfolded her arms from their crossed position on her chest.
“It’s in the Greek Orthodox Bible.” Wolfwood nodded, beckoning her over toward his table. “It’s also the name of a thousand saints. I don’t consider myself a saint, though.” And she sure as hell was no virgin.
“Huh. Guess I should figure that out before I start my new job,” she murmured. “Ugh, I hope they make a Cliff Notes of the Bible.” She took a seat across from him and smiled. “It’s so hard pretending to be sweet.”
He was already amused. “Why do you have to pretend to be sweet? I can’t imagine anybody wouldn’t enjoy your personality as it is.” And he wasn’t bullshitting. He liked his women sassy, and most men with any balls tended to think the same.
“Well, that’s my job.” She chuckled. “I find unassuming, stupid people, and I sort of ... scavenge. You know, crows are really smart creatures. That’s what I figure I am. Circling overhead, waiting for so called predators to scurry.”
“Ahhh.” Wolfwood laughed. “Well, glad you didn’t try to bullshit me.” Couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter, as the old saw went. “I don’t think you’re a working girl, correct me if I’m wrong, but you have the same act.” Not that he would have minded if she’d been a working girl. Some of the best people he’d ever met, period, had been hookers. He’d given Belourine all the money he’d had before leaving Kandahar, just for the companionship, never mind the sex.
“Oh, I doubt I could. I’m not a working girl. I’m a grifter.” She chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Getting a job with this nice old doctor, and then I’m going to seduce the pants off of him with my virginal, innocent blushing.” Mary smiled and pulled her hair back.
“Is he a bastard, or are you a predatory bitch?” Wolfwood ordered a round. He could be straight up and expect her to answer honestly; he had nothing she wanted, unless maybe some dick, if she decided she liked him.
“Probably six on one, half a dozen on the other,” she grinned. “I’m using my real name for once, so maybe that means something. Maybe not. When did you get back?”
“Maybe two weeks?” Wolfwood tipped his invisible hat. “Right after the Vegas crap. That was ... not something I ever expected.” Yeah. Understatement much.
“I wasn’t here! What happened?” She raised her eyebrows.
“To Vegas?” Wolfwood echoed. “Basically? It exploded.” Crass, maybe, but also true. “It looks like a nuke hit it.” That was hopefully vague enough.
That made her eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ, you spend a week in lockup.” That called for booze.
“Google it.” Wolfwood nodded, pushing her beer toward her. “It’s just ... yeah. I needed a fucking beer, too.”
“I will when I get home, fuck.” She took the bottle in hand, swigging generously. “Hey, at least we’re alive, right?”
“That’s the important part.” Wolfwood nodded again. “Not to get too maudlin, but I left war and death and destruction, and came home to ... death and destruction. And jet lag.” He’d been massively fucked up; only the jet lag had gotten him to sleep at all.
“Do you need anything to help you sleep? I’ve got that in spades.” Mary didn’t think she was addicted to sleeping pills, but few addicts thought they were addicts at first.
“Not yet. I might take you up on it if shit gets worse.” Wolfwood shrugged out of his coat, revealing a simple army-green long sleeved shirt.
Mary admired the broadness of Wolfwood’s shoulders, the musculature of his arms. “Well, here’s my number,” she said, making sure to jot it down.
He couldn’t help but smirk. “That has to be a record.” But he did accept it and tuck it in his pocket. “So, you just got here too? You don’t sound Californian, you’re too careful when you talk.” She wasn’t laid back enough. Here, even the people who didn’t smoke anything tended to sound like stoners.
“Mmm, you’re observant too.” Mary Eunice’s voice was all whisky and cigarettes, and she shrugged a shoulder. “New York by way of a few other states. But yeah, I just got here.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it ripe for the pickings. Though I’m sure you’ve done your research about who you shouldn’t fuck with.” Wolfwood drained his beer. People like Stark were too smart for her.
“I don’t want to go after anyone smart enough to make me, or good enough to not deserve what they get.” She drummed her fingers on the beer bottle. “I’ve got enough black marks on my karma that I don’t need any more of them.” She chuckled to herself. “I don’t know, it’s all I’m good at.”
“Ironic.” A con artist talking about black marks on her karma. “But don’t worry, Mary; nobody has more black marks in their ledger than a soldier.” He didn’t want to get too maudlin, but it was true. “As long as you don’t try to fuck me, I’m not going to judge you.”
“Aww, wasn’t that the whole point of us coming out for drinks?” She grinned and bit her lip, enjoying twisting words as much as the next con artist.
That got a grin. “You know what I mean, Miss Mary Eunice.” Wolfwood looked down at his beer bottle, amused. “But I wouldn’t turn down a girl who knows what she wants.” She had nice legs, a nice smile. And it’d be nice to not have to leave money on the nightstand.
“I do know what you mean. And you’re safe. You don’t have anything that I’d want, financially speaking.” Dr. Arden was different. He was an asshole, and he deserved what he got.
“I wish a few of my superiors were in town.” Wolfwood smirked. “But you don’t strike me as a girl who’d be happy with a lieutenant’s pension.” He wasn’t talking long term for real, just being general. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way. Knowing what you want is a good trait. Means you do a lot less fucking around.”
“I wouldn’t mind it, but seriously? Fucking over a soldier is beneath even me, and I’ve got some dubious fucking morals already.” She smirked, recrossing her long legs and leaning closer to him.
“Aw, a patriotic con artist. That’s almost cute, you know.” Wolfwood smirked, ordering one more beer. If he was getting laid, it’d have to be his last one.
“Clearly I’ll have to try harder. And it’s less patriotism and more knowing that being shot at tends to make someone not happy at all.” She spoke from experience.
“That is a fair fucking point, miss.” Wolfwood got his beer and tipped it toward her in a mock sort of toast. “You could always try my hometown, San Diego. Lot of sailors cooped up on base. Not suggesting you’re a working girl or something, but a lot of ‘em would probably be your slaves just because of your pretty eyes.”
“Sailors are off limits too.” Truth be told, she liked the geriatric asshole set; it reminded her of her father, and she didn’t mind stealing from surrogate fathers.
“Well, I was just trying to help.” He wasn’t offended, more sarcastic. “I’m sure our armed services thank you.” Wolfwood was maybe a little drunk, but just enough to loosen him up. “So, what’d this doctor do?”
“Well, he has this nasty habit of moving around a bit. He used to do all of this charitable work for a group kind of like Doctors Without Borders, then he stopped for unknown reasons. Then, far as I can tell, he went entirely off the grid for ten years. Poof. Gone. Add that to the fact that he thinks he’s better than everyone else, and I’m getting a shady past feeling. What he needs is a sweet, pious Catholic girl like the ones he knew in his youth to bring it out. He can confess to me. Who would I tell?” She batted her eyelashes.
That did smell, and Wolfwood said as much. “An old doctor going awol for ten whole years? It does make you wonder.” Depending how old he was, maybe he’d been a Nazi, or some kind of spy in Africa or something. “Just be careful he isn’t CIA, honey. He’ll break your neck.” And while she was conniving, he wouldn’t actually like it if she got her neck broken.
That made her snort. If he was CIA, he’d have arrested her by then. “If he was, he’d be smart and already have me locked up.” She cocked her head at Wolfwood. “Do you get a lot of people telling you their secrets?”
“Sometimes. But usually it’s drunk gunners hoping a Taliban patrol doesn’t show up at 4am.” Wolfwood had to chuckle, remembering a few times in particular. “I do remember one time the guys spiked my sergeant’s Coke with rum, and he didn’t notice. It was funny because it was quiet, but if the enemy had attacked, I’d have court-martialled their asses.”
Mary found herself actually feeling bad that this man had had to serve at all. She took his hand and squeezed it. “You must just have one of those faces.”
“Maybe.” She’d sort of changed tack, and he wasn’t sure what her aim was. Was that actual sympathy? “I just try not to be too much of a hardass. I don’t have room to judge anybody.” Well. Not in the righteous sense. He could judge that her breasts were definitely real, from that angle.
She wasn’t a monster. Sure, she was hard, but she was capable of sympathy. And her breasts were too small to be anything but real. “Is this place closer to yours or mine?”
“Not sure where you live, Miss Mary.” Yep, definitely just a little bit drunk. That was still okay.
“Do you remember where you live?” She laughed, finishing her first beer. It was an old trick of hers; she faked taking pulls even when the bottle was half full, taking tiny sips instead of gulps. She stayed the most sober one in the room.
“Oh, I’m all right. I live up in Mission Viejo.” He named a street, not sure if she’d know it. “It’s maybe ten minutes away.”
“I have no idea where that is, so you have to show me.” She smirked, leaning forward to run her fingers through his hair.
“I took a cab down, so if it’s all right, we can do that.” Wolfwood let her touch him; she was being nice, and well, he had weapons at home if need be. “Mission Viejo? It’s north of here.”
“I’m still getting to know the lay of the land.” An easy lie; most people thought girls were bad with directions, but she’d studied Orange County maps until she could walk them like a native, even while she was back in New York.
He didn’t think anything of it; she’d just said that she’d only been here a week or so. “Well, if you’d like to follow me, you’re welcome.” He didn’t want to act like it was a sure thing that he’d be getting laid; even if it was true, women tended not to like that. Wolfwood took out some bills to pay for their drinks.
“We can split the cab fare.” She leaned over to nip gently at his earlobe before standing up and fixing her skirt.
“All right.” Wolfwood risked slipping an arm around her waist, though he kept his hand in an appropriate place. He tried not to treat any woman like a piece of ass, even when she’d basically consented to be one.
He led her outside and hailed a cab, and soon they were outside his apartment. At least it was clean, even if it was slightly sparse. “Second floor. After you, Mary.”
Every girl had needs. Especially if she got involved with Arden’s business and she had to pretend she was a good little virgin, she’d never be able to sneak out and get any. So she was going to get some while she still could.
Wolfwood unlocked the door for her, letting her go in first to look at what little he had. At least it was a real bed, not just a mattress on the floor. “VA has some furnished apartments for soldiers just off a tour, but you can sort of tell it’s governmental.” At least he could. Bed, couch, table, chair, TV. He had his personal laptop. Not too much else.
“It’s nicer than my place, scout’s honor.” She had a mattress on the floor, a laptop, and a state of the art security system. Mary had priorities.
“Better than a cot in the desert, I promise.” Wolfwood couldn’t help but grin a little. “You’ll laugh, but sleeping on a real mattress was weird at first. It was too soft.” He figured screwing on a real mattress wouldn’t be so strange.
“Let me see.” She flopped onto his bed, wiggling a little. “Are you kidding? This is like a rock. You could get one of those foam things for the top, though. They make the bed softer and firmer at the same time, they’re weird.”
“Oh?” That was news to Wolfwood, coming to sit next to her. “Never heard of anything like that.”
“Mmhmm, it’s this dense foam that supports you but it’s super supportive.” Mary beamed. She grinned at him when he sat close to her, sitting up and bouncing a little.
Her tits were on the small side, but they were still real, and still nice. He risked one hand on her knee. “I genuinely will have to look into that. I guess I’m used to it hard.” ... Huh, and that double entendre hadn’t even been on purpose.
She snorted. “If you’re that sort of boy, maybe I should just go home.” She swung herself into his lap, looking down at him through her curtain of blonde hair.
“You’re welcome to do that if you think it’s best.” Better to cover his ass; the slightest sliver of a woman screaming rape could get him court-martialed. “Or you could stick around.”
“I meant if you’re used to the one getting it hard. I have no problem with it when it’s me. But if you expect me to do it to you, I think you’ll find me woefully inadequate.” She nipped his earlobe again.
“I didn’t say I got it hard, honey.” Wolfwood rested his hands on her hips. “I’m happy to oblige. Ladies first and all that.” He did actually try to be solicitous when he was screwing. Especially with working girls - you got a reputation if you weren’t - but with any partner, he didn’t want to be a dick.
Too much talking. Mary pushed him down on the bed so she could kiss him, wondering if he kissed as nicely as he spoke.
Okay by him. Wolfwood let her crawl on top, returning that kiss, resting his hands on her back, feeling her skin, amused that she hadn’t worn a bra. She probably didn’t need to.
Bras were for people with more tit than her. She moved her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly. No need to break the kiss to get naked.
She helped him out of his shirt, and he did his best to reciprocate while lying on his back. Wolfwood smiled, reaching a hand under her skirt to untangle it from under him. He wondered idly if she’d worn panties, and decided against that, too. He did shift a little bit, trying to get at the condom in his back pocket.
Figuring out what he was trying to do, Mary helped him out by loosening his trousers and finding the wallet he was looking for. “Here,” she smiled, resuming nibbling on his neck.
Wolfwood murmured a thank you, getting the condom out of his wallet and letting the wallet fall on the floor. He sat up a little, getting out of his pants and bending his neck to nibble and kiss hers.
“Welcome,” she replied, chuckling to herself. She liked him already. He was considerate, but he held no illusions about what they were going to do. Gentlemen in this day and age were rare. Wolfwood had nothing to fear from her.
When she didn’t mind the light nibbles, Wolfwood bit a little bit harder, rocking up against her. She didn’t seem too impatient, so he took his time a little, biting and teasing as he got the condom on.
That made her groan a little, arching up against him and pressing his teeth harder into her neck. Once the condom was on, she wiggled her hips impatiently. Foreplay was for people that weren’t her.
That amused him. “You don’t like screwing around, either?” Wolfwood murmured against her neck, helping her slide up and onto him.
“I’m only going to live once, I’d rather enjoy this go as much as possible,” she hissed. Sighing contentedly as she descended upon him, she tugged his hair a tiny bit to encourage him to bite her again.
Made sense to him. Wolfwood grunted, shifting up to meet her, biting a little harder on her neck, trying to leave a mark.
She moved down when he moved up, smiling when he bruised her. “Thank you,” she murmured, polite to a fault. Call it getting into character.
That just seemed odd to him, like she was trying it on. Still, Wolfwood was able to ignore it, and he kept doing what she seemed to like. It wasn’t hard. Please your partner, and they would try to please you.
They were both good little Christians in their way. Well, she was pretending to be one sometimes, and she didn’t know about him, except he was certainly a gentleman. Flopping onto her back once she’d moved off of him, she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to tug him close.
Wolfwood rolled with her, letting her pull him in again, timing his thrusts slowly. She seemed willing, and he nibbled her lip a little before going back down her neck. He knew it wouldn’t be earth-shattering for her, but he didn’t think he was terrible.
It had been months for her - she’d been in lockup for suspected forgery but let out after they found out they had nothing on her. Nobody ever really had anything on her, but everyone knew she’d done it, which was why she’d left.
So she was enjoying herself, whimpering and running her nails lightly down his back. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was exactly what she needed.
He’d needed to get laid himself; Wolfwood made a contented noise, grinding against her. She was a little quiet, and he slipped a hand between them to see if he could make her a little louder.
A tiny adrenaline born chuckle escaped her lips before a moan did; she enjoyed being around men who actually knew what they were doing in bed. Pulling him closer, she ground against him harder, a bit more insistently. She did get louder, but she’d muffled herself as well.
Wolfwood kept his fingers moving even as her legs locked around him. This felt fucking good; someone he could take a little time with and actually seemed into it. This wouldn’t be some kind of relationship, but he did like her attitude. She fucked the way she talked; no bull and plenty of spirit.
Nipping tiny red welts along his collarbone, she moved to kiss him again, wondering if she could stick around for another go after this one. Having sex with a man one time was unfair; they really only ever got really good after one turn anyway.
Those little bites worked for him; Wolfwood let a quiet groan escape as he felt himself get closer to coming.
She liked the noises he made, so she did more of the same, moving a bit harder against him, trying to let him know it was okay to let go.
It was a couple more minutes before he finally did come, cursing under his breath. He wanted to melt into the mattress, but he willed himself to keep going, to at least use his fingers to get her off. She seemed to be into it. “Yeah?” It was maybe a silly thing to let out, but he couldn’t manage a complete sentence right now.
She didn’t take much longer; his fingers had the sort of calloused roughness she liked in her lovers, and she whimpered loudly when she finished. One hand had gone into his hair and she sighed happily when she was done. “Fucking hell.”
Wolfwood sighed, getting his equilibrium back and rolling to one side. “You okay?” She’d made a noise that he wasn’t sure was good or bad.
“Fantastic,” she grinned. She was still catching her breath, and she let out a little adrenaline-born giggle.
“Good.” Wolfwood said easily, smiling. He indicated a small door at the back of the room. “If you need to clean up, it’s in there.” She didn’t have to go anywhere if she didn’t want to, but he figured he’d be helpful.
“Nah, I won’t bother until we have another go. Unless you don’t want to.” She smiled at him.
“I might be game.” Wolfwood smiled.
“Good,” she grinned, an impish thing, wrapping her legs around his waist.