[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

The woman took the abandoned stool. 'Max. The usual.' The bartender nodded. The woman turned to Quinn. 'Hello, Jonathan.'

'How are you, Sophie?'

'Still in the same place I was the last time I saw you,' she said. 'Nothing has changed. I have my regulars. They pay my bills.'

Max approached them from the other side of the bar and placed a Pink Squirrel in front of Sophie. She nodded thanks as he moved away. She took a sip, then set the glass back down on the bar. 'Business?' she asked.

'I'm sorry?'

'Business? Is that why you're here?'

'In Berlin?'

'In my bar.'

'Yes,' he said. 'To both.'

'Good. Because if you said you were here to just see me, I'd tell you to get the hell out.' Her tone was casual, almost light.

Quinn smiled slightly.

'It's been, what? Two years?' she asked.

'Something like that.'

'What are you doing here?'

He watched her as she took another drink. 'I need a place to stay.'

'Tonight?' she asked.

'Yes. Tonight.' He paused, then added, 'Maybe tomorrow, too.'

'What do you think my husband will say?'

'You're not married.'

'The hell I'm not.'

"The hell you are.'

She seemed about to say something more, then started to laugh. 'You're still an asshole, you know that?'

'Yeah,' Quinn said. 'So I've heard.'

It wasn't until after 3 a.m. when Sophie and Max were able to chase the last of the customers out. Quinn nursed his beer in the corner of the room as they cleaned up. Finally Max left for home, and Sophie led Quinn upstairs. Her apartment was a two-bedroom flat above the bar. There were two ways to get upstairs. The first was a separate entrance out front off the street, and the second was up a staircase located next to the storage room at the back of the bar.

Pausing at the upper landing, Sophie dug her keys out of her pants pocket. She unlocked the door to the apartment and led Quinn inside. As she closed the door, her hand brushed against his arm, then she leaned forward, her lips suddenly on his.

His first reaction was to pull away. This wasn't what he wanted. He just needed someplace to sleep. Someplace no one would find him.

Besides, the relationship they'd had, a relationship that had lasted only a few months two years earlier, had been just another one of Quinn's failed attempts to connect with somebody. He had only come to her because there was no one else he could turn to.

But instead of pulling away, he felt his lips loosening, becoming soft. Before he knew it, his hands were on her back, pulling her to him, caressing her, undoing the buttons on her blouse. His need for her – no, not for her, for human contact – suddenly consuming him, controlling him.

He pulled the garment off her shoulders, following its downward motion with his mouth until his lips found her left breast. He remembered her nipples, short and erect, were the most sensitive areas on her body. He ran his tongue slowly around them but not touching them, teasing her. Even as he was doing this, her hands were undressing him.

Soon there was a pile of clothes on the floor. Quinn moved Sophie to the couch, where he continued to explore her body, inch by inch. His mouth, his tongue, searching, kissing, caressing. All the while the scent of her, a mix of beer and sweat and lavender perfume, filling him with memories of their past.

'Now,' she said in his ear, her voice a low whisper. 'Fuck me now.'

They enjoyed a second, slower round in the bedroom. Later, after they were finished, Sophie got up to get a glass of water. When she returned, she had a grin on her face. 'You've been practicing,' she said.

'Occasionally,' he said, trying to keep the regret out of his voice. 'Here.' She handed him the glass. 'And don't worry.'

'About what?'

'You look like someone who's afraid the woman you've just slept with is going to say she loves you.' She snorted. 'Don't worry. I don't. Nothing has changed, okay? Just two old friends who haven't seen each other in a while.'

'So that was your way of saying hello?' Quinn asked. 'If you stay here tomorrow,' she continued, 'you'll have to do this again. Consider it rent.'

He smiled weakly, but said nothing. He took a drink of water, then handed the glass back to her. Sophie promptly finished it off and set the empty glass on the nightstand. After she climbed into bed, Quinn pulled the comforter over them.

'It's good to see you,' she said. 'It's good to see you, too,' he replied. Not quite a lie, not quite the truth.

She turned on her side, her back to him, so she could spoon into his chest. He draped an arm over her, his hand resting lightly on her stomach. He remembered this was the way she liked to sleep. As proof, only a few moments later, she was out. But Quinn wasn't so lucky.

Even when he did finally nod off, he was never far from the surface. And what dreams he had were a mix of Orlando and Nate. Dead. Dying. Tortured. All of it while he stood by, letting it happen.

Chapter 22