by J. Sterling
I flipped on the light in the bathroom, then turned on the shower and peeled off my clothes. I stepped in, closing my eyes and allowing myself to get lost momentarily in the steam, enjoying the hot water pounding on my head and shoulders.
Claudia’s image appeared in my mind, and I shook my head in vain to get rid of it. She smiled, and my dick sprang to attention. It was too late. There would be no getting rid of her now.
It was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. Squeezing some body wash into my hand, I gently lathered it up before rubbing it on the length of my dick. I moved my hand up and down as Claudia’s dark brown eyes appeared in my imagination. My hand worked my flesh harder and faster as I pictured her full lips sucking the head of my cock. I closed my eyes, mentally fisting her jet-black hair in one hand as she took me deep into her mouth, as far as she could take me.
My hand worked faster, my dick nearly ready to explode with Claudia’s name on my lips. Faster. Harder. Claudia.
I came, panting as I slowed to a near stop, draining my dick of every last Claudia-inspired drop. My heart pounding, I watched as the water swept away the evidence of what I’d just done.
And just as quickly, guilt set in.
Fantasizing about Jessica Biel and her lips around my dick was one thing. Celebrities were unattainable and therefore totally acceptable spank-bank material. But thinking about the woman I’d met at the bar tonight, while my girlfriend lay sleeping in our bed in the other room, was not.
What the hell was wrong with me? I stood under the hot spray a little longer, trying to get my head on straight, hoping the water would wash away my unease.
I ran some of Shelby’s girly shampoo through my hair. I liked the way it smelled. And then I used her conditioner because that shit made my hair crazy soft, and the stuff I had for men didn’t do that. What could I say? I liked having soft hair.
After rinsing off, I stepped out of the shower, relieved from my release but still feeling guilty about the cause of it. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I tiptoed out of the bathroom and headed toward our dresser.
Shelby stirred, and I looked at her as she sat up slightly. “Hi.” Her voice was sleepy as she rubbed at her eyes.
“Hey, go back to sleep. I’ll be there in a minute,” I said softly, and she smiled at me as she lay back down.
Before stepping into my boxer briefs, I dropped the wet towel to the floor. I glanced at it for a second, hearing Shelby in my head asking me why it was so hard to hang things up. Reaching for it, I tossed it on the hook behind the bathroom door and brushed my teeth, then headed for bed, Claudia still on my mind.
I fluffed the pillow and briefly considered spooning Shelby purely out of guilt. Deciding against it, I turned my back to her and closed my eyes.
Shelby’s warm arms wrapped around my midsection as she snuggled her front against my back. “I’m glad you’re home. Did you have a good night?”
I found her hand with mine and squeezed it. “It was busy, but good. How was yours?”
“I watched a movie while I graded papers. Ate dinner alone. You know, the usual.”
At her words, more guilt surged. Shelby was on her own most nights. I used to tell myself it was because the bar wouldn’t survive an hour without me, but the truth was something I wasn’t ready to confront yet. It seemed like I’d never be ready to confront it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not really meaning it as I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a quick kiss there.
“I keep thinking that eventually you’ll be able to spend more time away from the bar. You guys have employees now, and you don’t have to be there 24/7. But you’re still there all the time.”
This subject was nothing new. Shelby wanted my time, and I wanted to spend all of it at work.
“It’s hard to give up control over something you own,” I said for what felt like the thousandth time.
“I know,” she said, her voice soft. “I understand.”
Shelby was always understanding, never really fighting with me. Even when she wasn’t happy about something, she swept that shit under the rug and pretended everything was fine, like she could continue hiding her pain from me. I supposed I pretty much did the same thing, avoiding topics that really mattered to maintain the peace.
Or maybe I was simply denying the truth.
My brothers and I were finally in the position to hire employees, which meant the three of us didn’t have to be at the bar every night, but that didn’t matter. We all still showed up, for the most part. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the people working for us. It’s just the bar was our baby, our pride and joy, and it was hard for me to sit at home at night doing nothing when I could be at my business either working or supervising. Doing something.
It seemed easier for Nick when it came to his day off. He rarely showed up unless Jess was in tow. I didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t been around when the bar first opened like Ryan and I had, so maybe he didn’t feel the attachment to it that we did, or if it was because he was so truly in love that he had found a way to balance his life.
This was too much thinking, too many deep thoughts for almost four in the morning. I needed sleep.
I should have said something reassuring to Shelby, should have told her that I’d try harder or that I’d figure it out, but I didn’t. No, I kept my mouth shut, choosing to close my eyes in the hope that sleep would come quickly. I didn’t want to lie to her and say a bunch of things I didn’t mean but thought I should say out of obligation.
It was getting harder to keep living like this. And the fact that I had been attracted to Claudia tonight certainly didn’t help matters.
Night Off
Frank
The next evening, I found myself standing in the kitchen, doing my best to make Shelby a home-cooked meal. I’d called my mother earlier and asked for her enchilada recipe. Mom offered to come over and help, but I needed to do this on my own. I was a grown-ass man; I could cook dinner for my girlfriend without my mom’s help.
I think.
I’d woken up this morning, guilt still torturing me as I flung my arm across Shelby’s empty pillow. Claudia’s image had filled my mind on more than one occasion throughout the day, and no matter how much I tried to keep her out of my head, it hadn’t worked.
Irritated because I didn’t even know the woman, I’d headed to the store to buy the ingredients needed to make dinner for the woman I should be thinking of at all times. Shelby deserved my effort, so I decided I’d try to do something nice for her since it was my night off.
When she walked through our front door at the end of the day, file folders in her arms, she sniffed the air. Her gaze roamed the condo before landing on me in front of the stove.
A curious smile spread across her face. “What’s all this?” she asked as she laid the folders and her purse on the counter.
“Dinner.” I tried to sound confident. “If I don’t fuck it up.”
We both laughed. It seemed like ages since we’d done that.
“It smells amazing. Is that your mom’s recipe?”
I nodded as she made her way to me and placed a kiss on my lips. “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll finish this up?”
She looked so damn surprised, and it only made me feel worse. “You sure?”
“I got this,” I reassured her, and she headed down the hallway toward our bedroom.
As she walked away, I knew exactly why I’d fallen in love with Shelby all those years ago. After my baseball career ended, I hadn’t been easy to deal with, but she never wavered. She loved me when I was unlovable. She hadn’t quit on me, and I felt like it was my obligation to not walk away from her in return.
When my feelings started to change, I’d been too chickenshit to admit it to her—or to myself, for that matter. I was too wracked with guilt over all she’d done for me, all she’d lost in her life. There was always something keeping me put . . . if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. And for as unhappy as I was, it seemed easier to
stay with her. That was a shit reality to accept, but it was the truth. It was easier to stay than to upend our lives. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her feelings, to break her heart and force her—and me—to start over.
I’d almost worked up the courage to end things between us once before, but then her dad got sick. Her mother wasn’t in the picture, so it had only been Shelby and her father for her whole life. Within five months of getting sick, he was gone too, and only I was left. I carried the weight of that squarely on my shoulders, and mourned the loss of my own happiness for the sake of hers.
“Take care of my little girl,” her dad had begged me on his deathbed.
How the fuck did you disappoint a dead man and look at yourself in the mirror each day?
I should have stopped things before I moved back to California to open Sam’s, but I hadn’t. It was the perfect opportunity to ask for space to see where we stood, to see if we had a future. But Shelby had assumed that she would be moving with me, and once again, I didn’t have the balls to do the right thing and tell her she wasn’t invited. Instead of speaking up—or breaking up—I sucked it up and watched unhappily as she packed her bags, eager for this new phase in our life, assuming it was what I wanted as well.
But I hadn’t wanted it.
And she hadn’t even asked if I did.
Somewhere along the line, I’d begun to feel like a passenger in my own damn life, making decisions based on a sense of obligation instead of what I truly wanted. And now I didn’t know how to stop it. I was in too deep. Or, at least, it seemed that way.
“Wine?” Shelby asked from behind me, and I turned to face her, her brown hair still damp from the shower.
“Already on the table.”
I pointed to the bottle, and as she opened it, the oven timer buzzed. Praying the enchiladas were okay, I pulled them from the oven and looked them over. Huh, I might have actually pulled it off. They looked edible.
“This was really nice of you.” Shelby came back with two wineglasses and handed me one.
I leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. “I know things with us haven’t been the way you hoped—”
Interrupting me, she waved me off. “I know how much the bar needs you. It’s just that I need you too.” The last part was almost a whisper.
I swallowed hard, wondering what to say and how to say it without hurting her. “I just haven’t figured out how to balance it all yet.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Pulling her into my arms, I held her close.
“I miss you. We never see each other anymore,” she said into my chest, her breath warm against my beating heart.
Pulling back, I placed a kiss on her forehead but didn’t say anything more about it. “Let’s eat.” She moved toward the table, and I grabbed the casserole dish and carried it over.
I asked her about work, and she filled me in on all the latest news with her students. It was only when she talked throughout the entire meal that I realized just how little conversation we actually had anymore. Everything she told me about her classes was news to me.
“Megan got engaged,” she said as she finished off her glass of wine. Megan was her best friend from Arizona.
“Really?” Surprised, I held my breath, hoping to avoid this topic of discussion.
“Well, she and Christian have been together for four years.” Shelby cocked an eyebrow at me, and I ignored her not-so-subtle hint. She and I had been together much longer. “Are we ever getting engaged, Frank?”
Shit.
Any hopes of her not going there were suddenly dashed, along with my appetite. I didn’t know what the hell to say. I refused to lie about it and pretend I was ready to get married when I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be.
“My friends all think if it hasn’t happened by now,” she said, “it’s never going to happen. Are they right?”
Great. She’d talked about this with her friends. If I knew anything about women, and I did, this couldn’t be good. Women fed off each other, each thinking they knew more about a man’s psyche than the other. They were usually wrong.
“I don’t know,” was all I managed to say in response. It was a chickenshit non-answer, an asshole move.
“Don’t you think that after ten years together, you should know?” Her eyes filled with tears, making me feel even lower than I already did.
“Shelby, I said I don’t know,” I snapped, hoping my tone signaled the end of this non-conversation.
For as unhappy as I was in the relationship, I hated hurting Shelby in any way. I cared about her and probably always would, but it wasn’t enough. A part of me knew that I wasn’t being fair to her by staying together. I wasn’t doing either of us any favors, but I wasn’t strong enough to end things. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her dead father or letting her down. And I sure as hell didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t the good person I’d always thought I was.
So I stayed, the weak side of me hoping that maybe one day Shelby would be the one who got fed up and left. That way I wouldn’t be the bad guy.
When had I cared more about perception than right or wrong?
Let’s Go Back
Claudia
I shouldn’t have been so fixated on Frank, but I was.
It had been two days since Britney and I had been to Sam’s, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Frank. I daydreamed about his deep green eyes and the way they had delved into me, truly seeing me. The tattoos that snaked up his arms had been the subject of more than one fantasy. I’d imagined those arms lifting me as my legs wrapped around his middle, all the hard parts of him pressing against the softer parts of me.
Yes, Frank Fisher was what fantasies were made of. At least, they were what mine were made of, apparently.
An odd sound interrupted my thoughts, and I blinked at the sight of Britney standing in front of my desk, snapping her fingers at me.
Oh God, I’d been daydreaming of Frank at work.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Britney demanded. “I’ve been standing here forever, and your client has been waiting in the reception area for ten minutes.”
“Shit.” I rushed to my feet and straightened my skirt. “Sorry.”
“Ah, crap. I know that look.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “You’ve got a fish wish.”
“A what?”
“A fish wish. You want to be smothered by a Fisher brother. Spanked by Frank.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I sputtered.
She laughed. “Look it up online. It’s a real thing. Hashtag Fish Wish, all one word.”
“You’re joking.” I hope.
“I’m really not. Next time we’re at Sam’s, look around at the women. They all have a crush, and they’re all hoping they’ll be crushed on back. Hence, Fish Wish. You’ll see half the bar with the same look on their faces that you have right now. Hell, I probably had it too before Frank talked some sense into me,” she said with a sad smile. “Go get your client, you fish-wishing floozy.”
I quickly typed the hashtag FishWish into my computer and watched as numerous other Fisher Brother hashtags emerged.
#Dyin4Ryan
#WannaBeLickedByNick
#SpankMeFrank
Laughing, I closed the browser. Maybe I did have a fish wish, but I couldn’t think about that now. I had to help someone make their business dreams a reality.
I looked down at my clipboard as I entered the customer lounge. “Mr. Frankson.”
As I read the name out loud, I stumbled a little on the Frank part of his name. You’ve got to be kidding me. Like I need more reasons to have Frank Fisher on my mind.
An older man stood up from the chair and extended his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Claudia, and I’ll be going over your paperwork today. Right this way.”
I led him into my office, hoping like hell we’d be able to make his dreams come true.
• • •
“Can we go to Sam’s to
night?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm when we got home that evening, and watched as Britney shot me a knowing glance.
“I don’t know, Claudia, the place is a madhouse on Friday nights.” She tried to sound serious, but she couldn’t stop giggling. “Hell yes, we can go. Of course.”
“Just for the record, I know I’m completely transparent, okay?” I said before she could say another word.
She knew damn well that I wanted to go there so I could see Frank. I had a crush, but I couldn’t be blamed for it. He was delicious and mysterious, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Stupid, stupid analogy, but I’d never fully understood it until now.
“I didn’t say a word.” She threw her hands in the air. When she walked toward her bedroom, I swore I heard her mumble “FishWish” under her breath as I shook my head.
“This is all your fault, by the way,” I called out and waited for her to shout back.
Instead, she peered around her doorframe. “How’s that?”
“You’re the one who made me go there in the first place. I was perfectly fine before you forced me to see those brothers in person.” I faked a glare and she scoffed.
“First of all,” she said, putting one finger in the air, “it’s not my fault that you and Frank Fisher have some weird sort of connection going on. And second,” she added another finger, “this is the most exciting thing that’s happened since we moved in together.”
I laughed in agreement, but focused on the part where she mentioned that Frank and I had a connection. Was that what it had been?
“You really think we had a connection?”
“Have. Not had. And we’ll see when we go tonight if it was a one-time thing,” she said before disappearing again.
Yes, I had been drawn to Frank, but he was extremely attractive. And attraction didn’t necessarily equal a connection. Chemistry was one thing, but a real connection was something else entirely. I had no idea what we had between us, but I was more than willing to attempt to find out.
