by Nikki Chase
As things stand right now, my job is no longer a problem, but I can’t let him get too close. It’s way too dangerous for us both. He could be a danger to me. And while I personally won’t pose a danger to him, being associated with me could definitely lead him to dangerous situations.
But what am I doing thinking about Jacob? I’m on my way to what’s potentially a hot date. I try to shake off any lingering thoughts of Jacob as I park my car in front of the restaurant.
Think about Steve instead, I tell myself. He seems nice on his dating profile.
I didn’t want to get into online dating—you know, since I’m in hiding and all. But I’m lonely and I’ve been told Tinder has a radius setting, so I thought it would be safe to create a profile and only make it visible to people in Ashbourne.
I mean, if Stan specifically sends a guy to this town to find me, I’m pretty much screwed already at that point.
I lock my car and smooth out my black dress as I walk toward the restaurant entrance, checking my own reflection on the big glass windows. I look good. I smile to myself. It’s been a while since the last time I got all dolled up. There aren’t too many events for which people dress up in this small town, and the nicer items in my wardrobe were getting neglected.
I scan the restaurant as I open the door, letting the waitress know that I’m looking for someone.
And then I see him, a guy in a baby-blue button-down shirt waving his hand at me with a wide grin on his face. I give him a practiced smile and raise my hand to wave back.
He doesn’t look anything like his profile picture. Well, maybe he used to, like, ten years ago. Does he think he still looks like that? Because that would be a sad.
As I gingerly approach the table, I try to recall the photos I’ve seen online and compare them to the man right in front of me now.
Steve’s hairline has shrunk at least two full inches further up his scalp, while his waistline has grown by a lot more inches. He’s still wearing his old clothes, though—I can tell by the way his shirt bulges over his pot belly and meets the waist of his dress pants somewhere near the top of his thighs.
“Jessica?” Steve gets up and walks around the table to get closer.
“Yeah. Steve?”
“That’s me,” he says, spreading his arms wide.
Oh God, he wants a hug. I glance at the wet patches on his armpits that are staining his shirt a darker blue and try to stop myself from cringing. I put my hands on his shoulders, keeping him at arms’ length, but he pulls me in until our chests touch. I hope he’s not sweaty all over. I’d hate for the sour smell of his sweat to stick to one of my favorite little black dresses.
“Oh, hi, Steve. Nice to meet you.” I pull away and give him a sweet smile, the kind I practiced to perfection in my previous profession.
“Wow, you look so much better than your pictures,” he says. If I were him I really wouldn’t bring up the topic of how true-to-life any of our online dating profile pictures are.
“Why don’t we sit down? My new shoes pinch a little. They’re new.” I lie, of course. I’ve had these shoes forever and they’re super comfortable, but he doesn’t need to know that. I just need to put an end to the worst, longest hug ever.
“I already ordered for you,” Steve says as he takes his seat across the table from me. “Trust me, I know what items on the menu are good.”
“Okay.” I keep the smile plastered on my face. Jesus. Can this get any worse? If there’s anything that annoys me more than people catfishing on dating sites, it’s people who think they know what’s good for me.
“So, you’re a teacher, huh?”
“That’s right. I teach at the local high school.”
“You must like it,” he says.
“Actually, I do. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher.”
“Why, though? It doesn’t pay very well, does it?” He grimaces. “You can probably do better.”
Great. Only a few minutes into the date and he already knows my job isn’t good for me. This is going to be one long date. I take a deep breath. I don’t think we’re going to hit it off, but if we’re going to do this, I may as well try to make conversation. Maybe that will make this bearable at least.
“Well, there was a teacher who really inspired me when I was in high school. She made me want to do the same for other people,” I say.
“Ah, well. I guess since you’re a woman that’s okay.” He raises his eyebrows like there’s some hidden meaning in his sentence that I’m not getting. “It’s good practice for when you have your own kids. I like women who are nurturing. They make the best mothers.”
The hairs on my skin stand up when I realize what he’s implying. Really, dude? We just met and you’re talking about how I’d be a good mother for your future kids? And what does he mean by it’s okay because I’m a woman?
“Uh, yeah. I guess,” I say politely, not sure how I’m supposed to respond.
Luckily, the food arrives at this point in the conversation. I’m really glad for the opportunity to drop the subject of women’s work and nurturing instincts. I guess it’s a good thing he ordered ahead after all.
I have to hand it to Steve. At least when it comes to the choice of restaurant and food, he knows his stuff.
I haven’t even heard of Caves, but it’s apparently a cute little Greek restaurant with fake stone formations hanging from the ceilings, giving the place a dark, intimate atmosphere. The food consists of platters of souvlaki with meats and tzatziki sauce. I can actually see myself coming back here, just not with Steve.
He introduces the items on the table and shows me the proper way to eat them. As we both rave about the food, I actually start to enjoy this dinner.
“You know, I think it’s really cool that you’re following your dreams.,” Steve says.
“Yeah?” I smile and take a bite of the warm, fluffy flat bread and spiced meat. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
“Yeah. I have this friend, he’s a social worker. Great guy. He’s always liked to help people. It suits him. He’s happy.”
“Good for him,” I say.
“Personally, I don’t think it’s such a good move for him. I wouldn’t do it. He’s only making sixty-thousand a year.” Steve scrunches up his face like it’s the worst fate in the world to be making twice the amount I do.
“Oh, that’s not so bad.” I try to keep the positive vibes going, but he’s not making it easy.
“Maybe it’s not so bad for you.” Steve smiles like he genuinely believes he’s giving me a compliment. “But he’s a guy. What happens when he has a wife? Children?”
“Maybe his wife can work.” I shrug with annoyance. I tried. I really tried to keep my mouth shut so we can have a pleasant meal.
“No way. Women, once they have kids, they just want to stay home all day and be with their babies,” he says.
“I’m sure there are women out there who disagree.”
“They’re just fooling themselves.” He dismisses my silly womanly opinion with a wave of his sausage fingers. “All women want to take care of their kids. It’s just biology. You’ll see. You’ll have kids and then you’ll want the same thing,” he says.
Okay, my initial instinct was correct. He’s just one of those guys who think they know everything all women want. Funny how these omniscient men are always the ones who never get laid.
My blood boils, but I keep a lid on it. Arguing with someone like Steve would just be a waste of my breath. So I just nod while I continue eating in silence.
“You know…” Steve’s voice trails off as he looks intensely at me. “I feel like I’ve seen you before. Have you ever lived somewhere else? Like, in the city? I mean, San Francisco?”
Shit. Okay. This is my cue to leave. If he knows me from before I moved here, he knows where I worked. And if he opens that big mouth of his, I could lose my job.
“Oh, excuse me. My phone is ringing. It looks important.” I fish my phone out of my bag. Nobody’s really calling
, of course. I have to press a button so the screen isn’t completely dark.
I fake an emergency phone call and quickly dash out of the restaurant, but not before leaving a couple of twenty-dollar bills so Steve wouldn’t accuse me of being one of those women who are just using dating sites to get free meals. Somehow, he strikes me as the kind of guy who’d say something like that.
Damn. Yet another disappointing date. Maybe I should give up already.
Chapter 10
Jacob
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
Fuck. I’ve got to change this damn ring tone. It always starts so abruptly I jump from the sound eight times out of ten.
I click the blue icon jumping on my laptop screen to see that it’s Matt calling. I put on my earphones and click the green circle to start the call.
“What?”
“Why are you always so pissed off when I call you, man?” Matt’s frowning face appears on the screen, the graphics lagging a couple of seconds behind the voice.
“Your ugly mug annoys me.” I take a sip of my coffee. Maybe it’ll help me deal with the day.
“Come on. You know you love me. Besides, my Mom tells me I’m handsome.” Matt leans closer to the camera and raises his eyebrows. He squints at his screen. “Did you just wake up? What time is it over there?”
“It’s seven. And yes, I just woke up like twenty minutes ago.” I stretch my hands to the side and yawn.
“God. It pisses me off that you get to sleep in all day.”
“It’s not sleeping all day. It’s called working at night.”
“Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh.”
I put my mug of coffee down on the cheap particleboard computer desk and sigh. “Why are you calling?”
“You used to be cool, Jacob.” Matt sticks out his bottom lip like he’s five.
This guy used to be an active duty First Class Petty Officer, a Navy SEAL. A damn good one, too. He's got his act together, so everybody likes to ask him for advice. But if you didn't know him, you wouldn’t know it by the way he acts. He can be pretty goofy.
“Negative. I was never cool.” I chuckle.
“And yet here I am, the coolest guy ever, calling you. All because I’m a great friend who’s worried about you. And you don’t even appreciate it.” He sighs in mock disappointment.
“What are you even worried about?” I frown. “I don’t need you to fucking babysit me, man.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that temper of yours. I just want to check that you’re doing fine.”
“Of course I am.”
“Business doing well?”
“It would be if you weren’t harassing me.”
“You're still moving around? Not seeing anyone? I almost regret teaching you how to make your own money.”
“What are you talking about? That was the best thing you've ever done for me. Really.”
“Yeah. I just think… Maybe it's time for you to stop traveling so much. Think about settling down with a nice girl. You’ve never taken any woman seriously after the thing with that stripper, and I really don't think that's healthy.”
“What do you want me to do about it? Nice girls don't just grow on trees.” I shrug. Jesus, this guy. Just because he’s seeing some girl, suddenly he’s a relationship expert.
“Bullshit. I know you get your dick wet on the regular. Maybe pick one from your harem and just do it.”
“It doesn't work like that.” I squint at the image on the screen in front of me. I'm still talking to Matt, my buddy from the Navy SEAL, and not my nosy Aunt Ida, right?
“Yeah, okay. I'm not saying you should settle down tomorrow. Just try to take your dates more seriously. You know?”
“Uh-huh.” I pull up the Internet browser window on the computer. Maybe I should catch up on today's news instead of listening to this lecture.
“I just don't like seeing you getting all hung up on some stripper you slept with eons ago. Strippers do that, you know. Just ghost people and disappear without a trace. Doesn't mean all girls will do that to you. Try some other profession next time. Say, a hairdresser, or a teacher.”
I burst into laughter. Fuck, if he only knew how close he's gotten to the truth…
“Hey, I'm trying to have a serious conversation here,” Matt says with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yeah, whatever,” I say as I peer above the laptop screen, past the horizontal slats of the white plastic blinds covering the window. Jessica’s car rattles as it pulls up into her driveway.
I can see her emerge from the car, between the slats of the blinds. And damn, does she look good. She’s wearing a dress tonight, which doesn’t happen often. I get up to take a closer look before I realize the earbuds in my ears are still plugged into my laptop.
“Hang on,” I tell Matt as I take off the earphones and stand in my usual spot right behind the blinds.
This particular window faces Jessica’s house, which is one of the reasons I like working here. I can see her come and go while I sit in front of the computer.
I position my eyes between two slats to get a clear view of Jessica.
She’s wearing a black, snug dress that shows off the tantalizing outline of her curves. There is some lace above her chest, through which I can see some of her creamy skin peeking through. The heels she’s wearing exaggerates the sway of her hips. It’s almost hypnotizing.
My hands are itching to yank her dress off so I can take a good look at her full, perky tits, her narrow waist, and her curvy ass. Jessica is not a tall woman, but she packs a lot of curves in her otherwise slender, petite body.
In my imagination, Jessica’s looking at me seductively, batting her eyelashes as her full lips form a small smile. I pull the hem of her dress up to see nude stockings that go halfway up her thighs, with a garter belt and suspenders holding them up.
I slip my hand down her panties and find her wet and ready. She moans and begs for more, as her long, fiery red hair is tangled in my hand. I pull until it hurts, forcing her to tilt her head so I can bite hard on her neck.
In reality, Jessica is like five yards away, and yet I can feel myself growing in my sweatpants. The soft fabric clearly outlines my hard cock. I reach my hand down to stroke myself. I’m so fucking glad I live alone right now.
It feels like I’m watching her move in slow motion, the way my eyes take in every small detail of the way she looks tonight. The magic is broken when she gets inside her car and slams the door close hurriedly.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. There’s not much time left until the market opens. Definitely not enough time left for me to take care of myself.
Then I look at the laptop.
Fuck, I’m still on a video call with Matt. Jesus. He’d never shut up about it if he sees me jerking off while creeping on my neighbor. I’d never live it down.
Luckily, the monitor and the webcam face away from the window where I’m standing.
I stick the earphones back in and take a seat, careful to keep my erection off camera. “Sorry man, I had to take care of something.”
“Hmm… You look suspicious as hell.” Matt leans closer, no doubt to scrutinize my expression.
“Whatever.” I laugh it off. “Hey it's almost time. I should go.”
“Okay. Talk soon.”
“Bye now.” I end the call.
As much as I consider Matt as my family, I don't like the way he was pushing for me to talk about my girl problems. Fuck that. I don't have girl problems. Girls have me problems. I chuckle at my own joke.
On the screen, I pull up my work window. Things are looking good tonight. This makes me feel better about not having time to take care of the boner in my pants. I dive into it and, before I realize it, two hours have flown by.
My knees feel stiff and my ass hurts from sitting for so long. I hear sitting too much is supposed to be as unhealthy as smoking now, so I’ve apparently traded one unhealthy habit for another.
I get up to straighten m
y legs, but just as I’m about to head to the kitchen to grab some food, I hear something outside.
It’s Jessica’s voice. She sounds frantic.
I stop everything as I perk up my ears to listen.
“Max! Where are you? Help! Someone!”
Chapter 11
Jessica
Stan sat beside his lawyer, glowering at me. He looked ridiculous in his orange jumpsuit, but somehow also more menacing.
“What is the nature of the relationship between Mr. Harris and Miss Jones, to the best of your knowledge?” The prosecutor, Perry Davis, looked straight at me and nodded, encouraging me to repeat the same facts I’d told him again and again before the trial.
“I believe they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” I said into the mic, keeping my gaze locked on Perry, a man in his forties with premature grey hair and kind eyes.
“So they were lovers,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Would you say that they had a turbulent relationship?”
“Yes. I’ve walked into them arguing before.”
“Objection, your honor,” Stan’s lawyer said. “All couples have arguments. The fact that Miss Lewis has seen Mr. Harris and Miss Jones having a lovers’ quarrel doesn’t say anything about the quality or dynamics of their relationship.”
In my periphery vision, I could see Stan still glaring at me. I could feel the heat of his anger penetrating my cool exterior. A shiver ran down my spine. The room felt cold even though we were in the middle of an unusually hot summer.
“Overruled,” the judge said.
My heart pounded against my rib cage. My fingers started to shake, and I hid them behind the wooden witness stand so Stan wouldn’t see my anxiety.
“Miss Lewis,” Perry said, catching my gaze and smiling when I looked up to see him. “How often would you say these arguments are?”
“I don’t know. Nancy never told me. I only accidentally saw them sometimes at the club’s dressing room.”
