by Shayne Ford
It was a perfect life. For my family, and me. At least for a while, it was. Growing up, I dreamed of the moment when I’d be the attraction point of those parties, surrounded by the most eligible bachelors in the county.
One summer evening all my dreams turned to dust.
Who knows? Perhaps it was supposed to happen that way. Maybe it was faith, or simply, a curse running through my blood.
I pull out of the pool and walk to the lounge. Absently, I run a towel over my body, and then I look up at the sky, flashing a nostalgic smile.
All I do these days is push everything that once mattered to me away from me. My memories, my old me.
Mostly, I’m trying to forget the soft, innocent girl, who used to dance, read, and watch butterflies for hours.
I want to erase that girl from my memory, but sometimes she looks at me laughing, and scolding me, threatening me she’ll never go away. She was so pure and innocent. So different than who I am right now.
I wind a towel around my body and walk inside.
That girl... She got me in so much trouble. I would kill her with my bare hands if I could.
A beep comes from the couch. I snatch the phone off the armrest and sift through the messages.
Nick, Adele. Abel?
Are you coming?
Smiling, I type away. I start with Abel. Soon, he’ll have to pay me.
“The food is delicious,” I say politely, dabbing at the corner of my mouth with a Thanksgiving-themed napkin.
“Do you want another slice of pie?” Adele asks.
“No, thank you.”
Her apartment is full of people. Her parents flew in as well, and few more couples were added to the mix.
The conversation spans from politics to the latest fad in dieting and the indiscretions of celebrities striving for relevancy.
A soft touch on my shoulder makes me swivel my head.
“Hey.”
I scrape my chair back and turn to Nick all the way.
“Hey,” I say.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Sure.”
I rise to my feet and follow him, furtively glancing at my reflection as we both strut by a large wall mirror.
The white, skintight dress hugs my body and stops short of my knees. My dark hair drapes over my back. Perched on high heels, I sway my hips in front of him.
I should’ve toned down my appearance, especially since I knew he’d be here. I’m not a huntress. At least, not in the open. And I don’t want to be a cock tease either.
We slip into the study room. He smoothly closes the door behind us. Without making the slightest noise, he leans against the door.
His hair is a bit longer than the last time, making him look younger and adventurous. His eyes still harbor an ocean of insecurity. He is a smart man. He knows we are the mismatch of the century, and yet he doesn’t seem to care.
Our eyes connect.
“Yes?”
“I know you said you’re not into dating...” he mutters.
“Uh-huh.”
“I want you to come to my place, tonight.”
Judging by the long exhale following his words, it must’ve taken him a lot of courage to make me the proposal.
I ponder, a shred of panic already flashing in his eyes.
This would be the second strike with him. And it’s one of my toughest rules, one I’ve never broken before. Never, ever fuck regular guys, especially the ones that seem, good, kind-hearted men.
Abel is good, but he knows how to fend this stuff off if it ever gets out of hand. I’m not so sure Nick can do the same. I should cut him loose, but his eyes make it so damn hard.
Even if there’s nothing in it for me.
I step closer to him, my hands gliding to his chest.
“Listen...”
More angst piles up on his face as he braces himself for rejection.
“I like you, Nick... You can fuck me tonight, and we can be friends, but we can never be more than that. Is that okay with you?”
His chest rises with a gulp of air, his eyes glinting with a smile.
It’s either my words or my proximity, but his body seems to close the deal for him.
Nodding in agreement, he curls an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. My hand slides to his groin, my palm running down his fly, brushing his already hard cock. He stirs against my hand, and I begin to stroke him slowly.
His lips part, his breaths getting quickly hotter. Stretching a wanton smile, I work his fly open and wrap my hand around his shaft.
He watches me in silence as I kneel in front of him. We keep our eyes connected as I roll my lips down and swirl my tongue around him, his throaty groans and iron-grip telling me I’m hitting every spot right.
Sliding my lips up and down, I run my tongue along his hardness, relishing the way he feels inside my mouth. I take him deep, rewarding him with what he wants.
I feel him hot and so turned on, and yet my body doesn’t spare a tingle.
Panting, he pulls me up, his eyes looking at me unfocused.
“Let’s finish this up somewhere else,” he says as he tucks in his shirt and closes his pants.
He takes my hand and pulls me out of the room making this the shortest Thanksgiving dinner ever.
I showed up at Jill’s last Friday and Saturday, right after Thanksgiving, setting myself up for a colossal disappointment.
I was excited, aching to see that mysterious man again. No, no. It was more than that. I was craving to see him again.
As irrational as it felt, and inexplicable in a way, I let myself carried away by that feeling, and I didn’t mind waiting for him.
But the nights went by, empty and uneventful.
He didn’t show up last night either, and chances are tonight won’t be any different.
Close to midnight, I notice a man gesturing to someone in the parking lot. I do a double take, and my heart leaps to my throat.
There he is, sneers the mocking voice in my head, warning me to stay away from him. I shove the pestering thought to the side and shift my focus to the man who has taken up residence in my head lately.
Stonewashed, dark jeans sit low on his hips, the fabric slashed, unraveling at places. He wears his signature black boots and a skintight white T-shirt that sets off his tattooed torso, cut arms, and carved chest.
A low-hung belt snakes around his hips. He stretches his arm out, the fingers holding his cigarette pointing at something in the distance.
His hand slides through his hair before he tucks it in his pocket. He brings his cigarette to his lips, his cheeks going hollow as he takes a long drag.
Next moment, he blows the smoke out, flicks the cigarette to the pavement, crushes it under his boot and strides to a nearby motorcycle. A rush of panic sweeps through me.
Before I can think of anything, he straddles his Harley, revs it up and leaves the parking lot, tail spinning.
A sigh rolls off my lips as I lean back in my chair.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is a classic trap. Seemingly, I’m losing my head over someone I know I can’t have. And to make things worse, I can’t even figure this man out.
I ponder for a few more moments, unsure of what to do if anything.
I should probably just go home, take a cold shower and forget about him. But no, no. My stubbornness doesn’t serve me well this time. I hang onto the idea that he might come back, so I stick around.
Close to one o’clock, I finally lose hope and give up on the idea.
It was about damn time.
I glance around. The place is almost empty. Reluctantly, I gather my keys and phone and get ready to leave. I make a quick stop in the ladies room, and as I exit the bathroom, and take a turn to enter the narrow corridor, I smash into a wall of muscles.
He tears away quickly and brushes past me, vanishing through the back door. His scent spreads over me like fire. I suck in what feels like all the air in the hallway and let my mind spin for a moment.<
br />
Where is he going?
With nothing better to do, I swing the door open and step outside, the night wrapping cold around me.
Quietly, I push the door closed and scan the alley.
A streetlamp casts a faint light across the tarnished wall.
I stroll toward the corner of the building, my footsteps soft and silent. Nervous, I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one has followed me.
I crane my neck out as I reach the corner. Not far from me, I spot the tucked-in area where some of the employees park their cars. Aside from a dark SUV sitting at the far end, there’s no other car in the parking lot.
I look around, searching the area. That’s when I spot the two men. Gasping, I scoot back and hide behind the wall.
Fast, shallow breaths tear off my chest. I suck in a gulp of air and look again.
He’s right there standing feet away from me.
Propped on his motorcycle, a cigarette in his hand, head tilted back, and hips angled forward, someone’s face connected to his groin.
What…?
On his knees, the man in front of him bobs his head, his eyes closed as muffled groans crawl up his throat.
Heat disperses over my body, my reaction taking me completely by surprise. The rush–– as shocking as it is, holds me in place.
I swallow hard a few times. My wiring must be completely wrong. Here I am, getting hot while watching them, and yet, I can’t warm up to a man in my bed.
Baffled, I move away from the corner and take a few small steps in their direction, craving a better view.
Not much older than me, the man at his feet is well-dressed and quite attractive. The kind of man you’d meet at an event, perhaps a wedding. The sort of man you’d take home to meet your parents.
There’s something so erotic about him. As I get a better glimpse of his face and subsequently his expression, I quickly learn. He loves it. He loves sucking the man who leans against the motorcycle and seems unmoved by his passion.
I lift my gaze and try to read the standing man’s face.
I can’t say whether there’s lust or pleasure lurking in his eyes, despite the glistening hard-on he shoves into the man’s mouth.
He seems removed from the scene, but even so, the sight of him, his stance, indifference and I suspect, his sexuality, make me shiver.
The man on the ground groans again. He flicks his eyes open and notices me, and yet he doesn’t stop.
Startled, I raise my gaze and meet the standing man’s stare. The man I’ve been obsessed with looks at me with fierce eyes. His gaze burns through me like fire.
It’s not shock or surprise I read in his eyes, not even the slightest curiosity. He couldn’t care less that I’m here, spying on him.
He slides his hand into the man’s hair and rolls his hips–– narrowing his eyes while locking mine.
I’m sure he does it on purpose now as much as I know he’s eye fucking me. It works. I feel warm, and a pleasurable tension growing in my belly.
I sense his tension rising, and then a feral edge to him that makes him prey on me. He must know I’m turned on.
This is so messed up.
The man groans at his feet. Slowly, No Ash brings his cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag and blows the smoke to the side before he grabs the man head with both hands and starts rocking his hips again, fucking his face.
His eyes stay on me, but my gaze dips as I breathlessly take in his cock sliding into that man’s mouth.
I drop my eyes lower, my gaze snagged by the man sitting on the ground as he starts stroking himself. Growling, he shoots his load.
I feel his pain and pleasure, and then I raise my gaze, meeting his eyes again.
A shudder falls through me as I get a glimpse of his emotions. Ache and disappointment, a hint of lust and sadness. It’s like an old, bleeding wound, trying to heal inside his heart, over and over again, yet staying open.
With no hope for resolution.
A slow, bitter smile creases his lips. He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a slow drag this time, studying me thoroughly. His raw gaze flows through me, stirring wild sensations inside me.
Shaken, I step backward, stumbling into the wall, and then I turn around and rush back to the bar. I dash in, frazzled. I really need a drink.
Perhaps two.
Absently, I gulp down the alcohol. I set the cash on the counter and walk back to the bathroom. I get a splash of water on my face, trying to pull myself out of the trance.
“So... Did you enjoy the show?”
The gravelly voice enters me, reverberating over the sound of torn paper.
“What the fuck?” I blurt and glance around, making sure I’m in the right bathroom.
“There’s no paper towel in the other one,” he offers, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the garbage bin. “Did you?” he asks, his hands clutching his hips.
My eyes fly to his chest and shoulders, and then to the bulge below his belt.
“What... What?”
I mumble a bit louder the second time, completely losing my shit.
“Did you like what you saw? You seemed to enjoy it,” he says.
A slow, knowing smile stretches across his kissable lips.
“Whatever...” I toss at him as if I watch men sucking other men all day long.
“Why were you following me?” he asks, a smirk reaching his eyes.
“I, um... I wasn’t following you. I was, um... I was going home.”
“And yet... You’re still here.”
“I needed a drink.”
“Really?”
His lips curved into an amused grin.
“Was it that good? Or... that bad?”
Waving him off, I walk toward the door. Two strides put him right in front of me, blocking my exit. His fist slams the door shut.
Pressing his back against the door, he stares at me.
No smile on his face.
His eyes slice through me, and for the first time ever, I feel the grip of fear.
“I want to hear it. Why are you following me?” he asks with a cold, dark voice.
“I have a business proposition for you,” I say, regaining my wit and composure.
“I’m listening.”
It takes me a moment to spill out the words.
“What is your going rate?”
An incredulous look slides onto his face, a faint smile tilting his lips.
“For what? Sucking my cock?”
His words stir a reaction between my legs, his amused grin hinting that my thoughts are on my face.
“Oh, you didn’t know that?” he asks as he registers my confusion.
“Know what?” I mutter.
“You thought I fuck for money?”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Yeah... It crossed my mind. You don’t?” I ask cleverly.
He lowers his eyes for a moment, a hot smile sprouting on his lips.
“Technically, I don’t. I let people suck my dick for money.”
“Oh... I see,” I mutter, barely stifling a roll of eyes. “And what’s the difference?”
His chest vibrates with laughter.
“It’s more like a... niche.”
“Okay... So what’s your going rate?”
“I don’t do women.”
“Oh... You’re gay?”
He purses his lips, crushing a grin.
“Do I look gay?” he asks
Tilting his head back, he stares down his nose, drilling holes in my confidence with his penetrating eyes.
He damn sure knows how good looking he is.
“No, you don’t. But that doesn’t mean anything. You don’t look like a pain in the ass either.”
An insolent smile flashes on his lips.
“Are you, or are you not?” I ask.
“No, I’m not.”
“It’s fine if you don’t do women. I’m not hiring you for sex.”
A playful smile rolls on his l
ips. He brings his hand to his chin and rubs it softly. I find the pursing of his lips distracting.
“What for, then?”
“I need an escort.”
His eyebrows pop up.
“Escort?”
“Three days max. Island resort. Key West. Everything is paid for. Formal clothing included.”
“Formal clothing?”
“We’re going to a party. We travel together, share a bungalow, we don’t fuck.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his lazy smile spurring wetness in my panties.
“If we fuck, you’re going to be paid extra.”
His teeth scrape his bottom lip, his eyes weighing me, amused.
“Are you sure I’m interested?” he asks.
“About going or fucking?”
“Hmm... You’re cute, but I’m not interested in either.”
His answer throws me off. I stall for a moment as he pivots, ready to leave. I’m already getting a glimpse of his back when the words fly out of my mouth.
“Ten grand, three days, everything included. Nothing out of pocket. Any fucking, two grand per fuck, whether it involves intercourse or not.”
He turns around slowly, his hand curled around the doorknob, his eyes scanning me, curious.
“Like I said. I’m not hiring you to fuck me, but just in case it happens, that’s the rate,” I say with a softer voice.
He shuffles slowly to me, his eyes dipping me in heat. I take a step back and hit the mirror. His hands glide to either side of me, his lips moving dangerously close to mine.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he asks, towering over me.
“Yes,” I murmur.
Slowly, he runs his eyes down on me.
“Mmm... Sincerity. That’s a flavor I like in a woman. So what are you hiring me for... if not to fuck you?”
My gaze drops to his lips as they curl into a lopsided smile. Flushed, I flick my gaze up and meet his eyes. I feel them all the way down, inside my core.
“Pretend you’re someone who cares for me.”
“For other people’s eyes.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you afraid to hire a stranger?”
“No.”
“Why not hire the men you’ve already fucked?”
