Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

The Date. Part Two

CHAPTER FIVE

Husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honour to the woman as the weaker vessel.

1 Peter 3:7

Several moments later, Cain turned down a side road, which I realised fairly soon wasn’t just a side road, but the drive leading to his mate’s house. About the length of two or three runways, it led down to a house that seemed to stretch across the horizon, blocking the evening sunset.

I had never seen anything like it, but Cain clearly had. He didn’t look impressed by the sheer size of the place. Even the awe on my face didn’t break him out of his silence. He parked the car in one of the open garages and, leaving the keys in the glove compartment, left.

I quickly followed after him, not wanting to get lost in a place like this. Luckily, Cain had no intention of letting me leave his side.

The instant I reached him, he pressed me against the garage wall and, like he’d done a thousand times before, pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was a brief, desperate attempt at connection, but my blood still boiled and my mind became temporarily blank.

Cain broke away and rested his forehead against mine. I felt his hot breath on my lips and the hard steel of his body pressing me into the wall.

“If you don’t want to go in there, Mercy,” he whispered, “we’ll go somewhere else, just you and me.”

As if I hadn’t been caught off guard by his kiss, Cain’s simple words blew me completely out of circuit. I was now on his orbit: whatever he wanted, I would do for him.

In one movement, he pulled away from me, keeping his hand in mine. I followed blindly, like a trustful lamb, as we made our way to the mansion.

Music pumped out a rhythmic beat and the air seemed to pulse with it. I felt butterflies in my stomach as we stepped through the front door. Those butterflies turned to snakes, writhing inside me as I realised how severely underdressed I was.

There were some women wearing jeans, but they were few and far between, and their tops were so dressy that it practically excused the denim. Despite it being only just spring, these women wore skimpy shirts that seemed to be made of lace, or chiffon, or in one case, chain metal.

The women who wore dresses looked most comfortable; best suited to the environment. Those wearing long, sleek dresses were just able to compete for attention against the interior design.

Tall, elaborate columns stretched the entire length of the house, substituting for walls, and making the entire place open-plan, like some kind of cathedral. These columns were lined with silver decorative patterns, while the colour of the painted sections was a cool, creamy yellow. The floors were black marble, decorated with flecks of gold and silver.

The acoustics of the place were incredible – if I stood close to the corner of a wall, I could hear what was being said by the wall on the other side. Otherwise, it would have been entirely silent, if not for the music sounding out from the speakers.

“Mercy,” Cain’s voice cut into my distraction. I managed to tear my eyes away from the interior design to meet the aquamarine gaze of the guy standing next to us. “I’d like you to meet Ray Walker.”

Ray was about Cain’s age, eighteen or so, with strong evidence of a varied heritage. His eyes were slightly slanted, but unmistakably blue. His cheekbones were high, defined and strong, above his big, shapely lips. His complexion was like mocha, though it darkened under the collar of his shirt. Like Cain, he wore jeans and a shirt, but Ray’s was made of navy coloured silk, fastened with pearl buttons.