Just a Date

Part 1

What the hell is taking him so long in there?

— Hey, Zach, what the fuck are you doing, casting a candle spell or something? — I snapped, adjusting this damn dress that hugged my hips so tight it felt like it’d rip if I so much as breathed.

He’d been fiddling around in the kitchen for like ten minutes. I sat there like some damn painting, hadn’t even touched that strawberry crap he poured me. The candle on the table crackled, and the whole scene felt way too... dumb and staged. Like I was stuck in some idiot’s romantic fantasy, probably dreamed up by a horny little French dude. Would’ve been better to just stay home and order food. But no. The fucking feds had to come in with their shit again:

“Blend in. Live like a normal girl. Act natural, Johnny, and go on a date with this Zach guy at least.”

Ugh... A date. What a fucking nightmare. It wasn’t enough that they turned me into a chick over that goddamn witness protection program glitch, and now for two months straight they’ve been feeding me the same bullshit — “we just need more time” to make a new model. So for now I’m stuck as this fucking “Hailey.” Ugh. And that call center job!

But what the fuck else can I do?! They said it’s temporary. They said, “Get used to it, or someone’s gonna blow off the balls you don’t have anymore.” And now here I am, in a dress with white fucking polka dots, on a first date with a guy I already don’t like.

— Sorry, Hailey! — came Zach’s voice from somewhere in the next room. — I thought you liked caramel syrup, but we’re out. I found vanilla though!

Zach. That Zach from Computer Analytics — classic quiet type with teeth too white to be real and a way of talking like he’s always five steps ahead of you. He’s been getting on my nerves, asking me out a few times already. Ugh… I still like chicks, assholes! Nothing’s changed! Fuck it. Whatever.

What do I care? I used to bury people for unpaid debts — if I’ve gotta be a “little doll” to save my ass, then so be it. Not like I’m gonna fuck him or anything... Fuck, even the thought gives me the creeps. I don’t even want to kiss him. I don’t want to kiss any guy!

— Here, try this — said Zach, finally showing up from the kitchen, holding two glasses and, for some reason, napkins. Like we’re about to spill that vanilla crap all over ourselves. — I added cinnamon too. My grandma used to do that, always said it... warms you up.

I looked up at him like that bitch agent Carrie taught me — all “don’t arouse suspicion, flirt a little,” but I probably had such a sour look on my face that even this analyst dweeb should’ve figured it out: I wanted out. Right now. Immediately.

— Mmm, cool... — I muttered, touching the glass with just two fingers. It was warm. Disgustingly warm. Like piss after a run. — It’s cozy here.

Part 2

Yeah, sure, “cozy.” Smells like fucking vanilla, the candle looks like something off a grave, and this asshole’s been staring at me without blinking for, like, fifteen seconds straight.

– I’m really glad you came, Hailey. I mean it. – He sat down across from me. His eyes didn’t leave my cleavage. – You look... incredible.

I swallowed. My heart was pounding in my chest like a damn deer on the run. Except I’m no deer. I’m ex-Johnny Rose. A cleaner. When you were bagging guys up six months ago and dumping them in the desert, you don’t really imagine one day you’ll be sitting in a polka-dot dress wondering if you look “convincing enough” and “when to bail” so you don’t “raise suspicion” that you’re not actually a chick.

– Go ahead, drink it – Zach pushed the glass closer to me and leaned in on his elbows like he was planning to stay in that pose all fucking night. – It’s... a special recipe.

I glanced sideways at the glass, where his “special recipe” was still steaming, and sighed. What the hell kind of pickup line is that? I don’t want this shit.

– Uh-huh, – I mumbled, raising the glass to my lips and pretending to drink. In reality, I barely wet my lips. Tasted like vanilla and cinnamon – like grandma’s goddamn air freshener.

He kept staring. At that cleavage, at that fucking neckline. My boobs aren’t huge or anything, but in this dress they were pushed up like they were on display. I didn’t feel like I was on a date — more like standing in a fucking sex shop window. Fuck me. A month ago I was in body armor searching a van full of corpses, and now...

– You... you really look stunning, Hailey – he whispered, slowly licking his lips – you’re a real beauty.

I flinched. It twisted something inside me. I’d never been looked at like that before, well... not before they turned me into Hailey. This guy was eyeing me like a piece of meat, and this wasn’t the “friendly interest” I used to get from rookies at the club coming to sort out their debt percentages. This was a different kind of interest.

– Uh... thanks – I forced out and faked another sip of his grandma juice. Who the fuck knows, maybe he spiked it? I mean... who the hell invites a girl to their place for a first date and cooks up some homemade brew for her? That’s just stupid... right?

– You’ve got a beautiful voice – he kept going, leaning in a bit closer. – So... melodic. Not like the others. You’re special, Hailey. I knew it the second you joined us.

I swallowed hard. Shit. That look. That tone. It was really getting to me. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Not even when I was rolling corpses into asphalt. Not even when Tony, that fat butcher fuck, stood over me with a knife and I thought I was done for. No. This was something else entirely, and I can’t even explain what. But I already felt humiliated and naked under this bastard’s stare. And the worst part? I suddenly realized that he... he had the upper hand right now, even though he looked like a goddamn twig. Fuck. Why the hell am I even thinking about this?

Part 3

– Are you okay, Hailey? – asked Zach, leaning in closer. His face was right in front of mine, his breath sweet, sticky, reeking of that vanilla-cinnamon crap. – It's just... you’ve got that look. Like you want to run.

I clenched my fists. The fingers of these thin, girly hands were trembling. My palms were damp. I bit my lip and nodded.

– I'm fine – I said, realizing my eyes were way too wide and I was pressed hard against the back of the chair. Fuck, Johnny, what the hell is wrong with you! Get your shit together!

– I think I should go – I exhaled, standing up. Sudden, like someone yanked a string. Probably way too sharp for a girl. But I didn’t give a shit anymore.

The damn dress stretched across my hips like it was about to rip with the next step. I felt my tits shift slightly under the neckline, and that bastard — Zach — immediately grabbed my arm.

– Wait – his voice dropped lower. – We’re just getting started.

I froze. His hand wasn’t strong, but it latched on. Like he wasn’t squeezing hard, but still, I didn’t feel like pulling away. Or rather, I did, I wanted to knee him in the balls and storm out, but I stood there like I’d been hit with a stun gun. I wanted to run, to break free, to scream loud enough for someone to hear, but goddammit, what am I, some kind of chick?! What the fuck are these thoughts!? Just. Just leave, that’s it. Fuck the cover. Fuck Zach. But no hysterics, okay?

– I... really, I need to go, Zach – I forced out, looking away and trying to breathe evenly. My heart was pounding like I was at an interrogation, not a date. What the hell is going on with me?

– No, you don’t need to go... – he stepped in closer and placed a hand on my waist, and everything inside me twisted, but I held still. He was breathing right into my ear, brushing aside a lock of my long hair as he continued – You came to me... got all dressed up... teased me with this little dress, that cleavage, those eyes...

I stood frozen, paralyzed.

– Zach – I tried to say it firmly, but it came out more like a whisper, almost girlish. – I... didn’t come here for this...

Suddenly, he turned my face toward him. His fingers were cold, but the grip was solid. No warning. He just kissed me. Right on the lips. Not gently. Not soft. Like he wanted to suck the breath out of me. Firm. Rough. Long.

I jerked, but again that paralyzing moment — either this body wasn’t mine anymore, or my brain just couldn’t believe this shit was real. I felt his lips pressing hard on mine, his chin brushing against me, his hand still gripping my waist like he was trying to crush me into that stupid chair.

His lips were warm. Sweet. That fucking vanilla taste again, like everything else in this damn apartment. And the worst part — my body, this goddamn new body, responded. Somewhere in my chest, just below my throat, something clenched and echoed. Goosebumps ran across my skin, and my tits tightened just a bit.

Part 4

– Hailey... – he breathed, looking at me like I already belonged to him.

– Don’t you fucking dare – I hissed, wiping my lips. My voice was shaking. Fuck, even my lips were trembling.

He tilted his head and smiled. Almost gently.

– It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart.

And that was it. I snapped.

– HELP! – tore out of my throat like it had a mind of its own.

I bolted like there was fire behind me. My heels skidded on the parquet and I almost ate shit — fuck, who the hell invented these goddamn shoes?! The dress stretched tight over my hips, my boobs bounced under the neckline, making it harder to breathe. And I ran. To the door. That fucking blessed door.

– Hailey, wait! – I heard from behind, but I didn’t look back. Hell no! The ex-cleaner, now a scared girl screaming her lungs out, lipstick smudged, hands shaking.

I grabbed the handle.

Locked.

Locked.

– No! Don’t you fucking dare! – I screamed, slamming on the door with my nails, my fists, my palms. Fucking manicure! What good is it if you can’t even smash a goddamn door open?!

– Hailey, calm down, what are you doing? – His voice was right behind me. Close. I turned, pressing myself against the wooden door like it could somehow protect me. He walked up. Slow. Confident. No rush. Like he already knew how this was gonna end.

– Stay back! – I swung my arm — this girly, weak-ass arm — and slapped him across the face. Well, “slapped” was generous… more like a fucking tap. Fuck! I used to slam guys into concrete, and now... now it’s just a pathetic slap.

He sighed. Not angry, not pissed, just... like he pitied me. Like I was the one losing it. Psycho fuck.

– Hailey, open your eyes – he said, touching his cheek. – You came here. You sat down. You wore that dress. You knew what this was.

– I... I didn’t know SHIT! – I grabbed the door handle again. The dress pulled tight across my hips, my boobs shaking with every tug. He was staring. Right at them. Not at me. At my fucking boobs. At this goddamn body that was now mine.

– Why... are you doing this? – I hissed. My voice shook. I could feel my lips trembling again. Fucking lips! I was trembling all over. – I’m not yours...

He stepped right up to me. His breath was back on my skin. Sweet, warm, cloying — just like this whole fucking “date.”

– Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re real. A real woman.

And then, fuck me, he just... opened the door.

Just like that. Click. That’s it.

– Go – he said softly, almost tenderly, and I, not believing it for a second, turned and ran the hell out of that cursed place.