Freezing

by Tarrah Anders

  “There’s not. You don’t work here.” I level her with a look. “Just saying’.”

  “I’m going to go sit far away from you.” I say standing, pushing the chair out.

  “Sure you are. You’re going to go internet stalk Brad Maddox.”

  “Shut up.”

  Lunch with Reed is difficult. All I want to do was ask him questions about Brad Maddox. What’s he like? What’s he into? Is he single? With great effort, I manage to make conversation about how Mom took me shopping over the weekend, about how my sink needs to be fixed, and about my last patient’s triple bypass surgery. Reed is always fascinated with surgery stories, so I usually had one cued up in my memory bank to share with him.

  The entire day I manage to stay away from Google and refrain from looking up Brad. After lunch, I go to the gym and then I make a stop at the grocery store to purchased something for the next few nights’ dinner so I can avoid walking to the corner store.

  Once I get home, all my resolve is used up and I spend the next several hours looking up everything that I can about Bradford Maddox.

  I’m not sure how much of what I read is real and how much is fabricated. He spent the last three years behind bars for lying in court. He lied about a marriage between his cousin and a stripper. All parties who perpetuated the stripper’s story either got jail or parole. Brad took jail time and refused any special treatment. By defying his cousin in court, he lost everything that he had, including his job at the company the Maddox family owns – the fashion empire based here in the city, Mad Designs. There is little information on Brad while he was in jail. There was speculation by the local news during the first year after he went to jail about whether or not his family would visit him, but eventually all chatter died down.

  I felt sorry for him, but then again, I didn’t.

  Something must have made him lie to those he cared about and collude with someone else. While I couldn’t guess what the motivation was behind it all, it must had been serious.

  It’s not my job to find out the reasoning. Brad is not a patient of mine; he’s someone I don’t even know.

  Chapter Three

  Brad

  It takes me a week before I officially get my first interview. In that week, I had a visit by my parole officer and shopped for some new items for around the house. I signed up for a gym and kept up with my workout regimen I started while in prison. And lastly, I went clothes shopping. Due to working out for the past few years and my body mass changing, the majority of my clothes are too tight on me. Boxing up the clothes I left behind in my closet and storing them in the garage felt like I was putting away the person from my past. In a way, I feel lighter regardless of the bars that still exist in my mind.

  My mind often drifts to the green-eyed beauty I met at the parole office, my parole officer’s sister. I keep having to squash those thoughts, since I don’t need any distractions. Distractions, particularly those of the female variety, are what got me into the mess I’m in currently. And even though Reed didn’t seem to have any negative thoughts about my character, that beauty is his little sister, and I’m sure there are complications when you try to fuck your parole officer’s siblings.

  While it has been several years since I’ve had the physical company of a woman, I have other priorities and I am determined to see my goals through to completion.

  Now, if only I could remember all my goals.

  Oh, yeah.

  Goal number one. Get a job. Pending, it’s a work in progress.

  Goal number two. Get my life back. Also a work in progress, I’m keeping busy at the gym, making my appointments with my PO, adhering to the law – though that was hardly an issue before – and I’m making sure I get back to being an upstanding citizen by creating a new normal for myself.

  And Goal number three. Reconcile with family. Finding a way to do that is the biggest obstacle I have, and I have no idea how to overcome it.

  Am I even worthy to set foot in the presence of those who are my only family although they no longer consider me theirs?

  I sit on the bench, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth several times in a row. When I feel like I’ve got everything I need to continue, I lay back down, reach up to put my hands around the bar and take a deep breath in. While controlling my exhale, I lift the bar off the rack and lower it to my chest. I execute ten reps with good form and then place the bar back on the rack and sit up. To occupy my mind as I catch my breath and rest my muscles between sets, my eyes roam the gym floor and to the individuals doing various workouts; that is, until they cut across to the elliptical machines and freeze.

  She’s standing to the side of one of the machines, stretching her leg behind her, an arm out to balance herself. She’s wearing gray workout pants that come down to her calves with a tight white shirt covered in multi-colored pineapples. Her long hair is swept up in a high ponytail, which she tightens before she steps onto the machine. She begins her workout and I cannot take my eyes off of her. Her lithe body glides effortlessly on the machine, her focus is trained on the screen in front of the machine. She breathes in and out with her movements and she pays no attention to any distractions around her. As she continues it makes my cock hard imagining her bouncing in the same movement as if she’s on top of me.

  Mika Crutcher.

  Since meeting her, she’s invaded my thoughts.

  I want her.

  I don’t want her.

  I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stay away from her.

  I know that she’s very likely different from Candy was, but there’s something in my hard-wiring telling me to trust no woman. I will not let her get close, and I will not get close to her. I seem to be unable to resist the manipulations of the subset of the female population who have bad intentions, but I’m not sure if it’s all women or just the one who screwed me over.

  I can want her from afar, but she can’t get her claws into me. I cannot let myself get fucked over again.

  She pushes herself harder, and she starts to breathe heavier. I try to look away, but I can’t move my eyes from her as they scan her body methodically from head to toe.

  She hasn’t seen me, thankfully.

  I force myself up from the bench and walk directly to the locker room without looking back at her. After grabbing my supplies, I head straight for the showers, turn the cold water on, and remove my clothing to step inside.

  The gym is not the right place to get a hard-on. The communal locker room is not the best place to take care of said hard-on. Even so, I stand under the cold spray and grasp my cock, stroking slowly. I need to dull the throbbing. Finding some relief is the only way I can walk out of here without approaching her and consuming her. Old habits tend to not die hard.

  I close my eyes and picture her plump lips around my shaft, pumping me with her mouth just as my own hand is doing. I vigorously stroke myself, knowing I need to make this quick, being in public and all. I switch mental images, from her on her knees to her bent over in front of me. The thought of her glistening pussy bared to me while she begs me to take her has me expelling my cum all over the white tiles of the small shower I am in. I quickly finish lathering and rinsing my body, then turn off the shower. Luckily, no one was in the shower area for those several moments, so I feel no shame. I get dressed and, with my skin still moist and sticking to my clothes, grab my workout bag and exit the locker room. Right outside the doorway, I run into a small figure. It’s the same very figure I fantasized about less than five minutes ago.

  Recognition and shock is all over her face. Her lips form an “o’ shape, reminding me of what I just did.

  “Hey, Brad,” she says once she rights herself.

  One of my hands is clutching her waist since I instinctively reached for her when we collided, and the other is on the handle of my bag.

  “Hey,” I say gruffly, releasing her.

  “New member?” she asks casually. Suddenly her ey
es go wide and she face palms. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Pretend that I never said anything.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay,” I assure her. “Horrible pick-up line, by the way. You may want to get new material. You know, just in case one of the guys is fresh out of jail.”

  “God, can I be any more embarrassing? Sorry. My mouth and my brain don’t always connect.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “That also wasn’t a line.” Her demeanor shifts from embarassed to sassy. “If I was giving you a line, you’d know it.” Her hand goes to her hip as it juts out.

  “Oh really? Try me. It’s been a minute since a pick-up line has been used on me.”

  “You mean no one made you their bitch in jail?” she says and then covers up her mouth just as quick.

  I laugh.

  “Fuck. I’m a horrible, horrible person. I swear I’m not an insensitive bitch.” She looks everywhere except at me.

  “Never said you were. Besides, no, I wasn’t anyone’s bitch in jail.”

  “Phew, because that could have been really awkward.”

  “So that line?”

  “Oh, well. I think I’ve used up all my brain cells by mentally kicking my ass over the stupid shit my mouth vomits up. I’ve got nothing.” She shrugs, looking cute.

  I shake my head of those thoughts.

  Down boy. Remember, you don’t want her.

  …You want her.

  Mika

  I saw him as soon as I walked in the gym. I tried to not stare, or make myself known, as I warmed up by the treadmills and elliptical machines. Trying to put him out of my head, I put in my ear buds and got to work.

  I’m here to fit into that stupid dress for my girlfriend’s wedding. I stupidly bought an amazing dress – top designer, bargain price, last one on the rack, couldn’t pass it up – that is one size too small, thinking that I would be able to fit into it; however, all year I’ve been so lazy that I’m still not able to squeeze my fat ass into it just yet. I have at least five more pounds to lose before I can fit into the size ten dress. So I will make good use of my gym membership and the fact that it’s so close to home until I can.

  I ignore the hunky man in the free weights area and focus on whatever the screen on the machine is playing. Before long, I am thirty minutes in and sweat is dripping down my cleavage. I look up and Brad Maddox is gone from his spot.

  Looks like I dodged that bullet. I hop off the machine and walk over to the water fountain between the locker rooms. As I walk past one of the locker room doorways, a huge body slams right into me, knocking me off balance. I begin to fall when his hand firmly grips my waist and rights me. Opening my eyes, my gaze connects with the very same blue eyes I encountered last week at Reed’s office.

  Brad Maddox.

  And his hand is still on my waist.

  I clear my throat.

  “Hey, Brad,” I say, hoping he remembers me.

  “Hey,” he says as he releases me.

  “New member?” I ask. Almost immediately I feel my face get hot and my eyes go wide as I hide my face behind my hand. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Pretend I never said anything.”

  I’m such an idiot!

  Big idiot! Huge idiot! That’s me.

  He laughs lightly. “It’s okay. Horrible pick-up line, by the way. You may want to get new material. You know, just in case one of the guys is fresh out of jail.”

  “God, can I be any more embarrassing. Sorry. My mouth and my brain don’t always connect.” This is one of my all-time most embarrassing encounters with a member of the opposite sex. A very sexy one at that.

  “It’s all right.”

  “That also wasn’t a line. If I was giving you a line, you’d know it.” It’s my best attempt to switch tactics and be flirtatious, even though I know I shouldn’t.

  “Oh really? Try me. It’s been a minute since a pick-up line has been used on me.”

  “You mean no one made you their bitch in jail?” I quip and then cover up my mouth just as quick.

  Please, someone get me a shovel. Hit me over the head and knock some sense into me!

  “Fuck. I’m a horrible, horrible person. I swear I’m not an insensitive bitch.” I cannot look at him, otherwise I may die.

  “Never said you were. Besides, no, I wasn’t anyone’s bitch in jail.”

  “Phew, because that could have been really awkward.”

  “So that line?”

  “Oh, well. I think I’ve used up all my brain cells by mentally kicking my ass over the stupid shit my mouth vomits up. I’ve got nothing.” I play it off, but this conversation needs to end.

  I need to run and hide, and never speak to a guy again.

  Become a nun or a lesbian. A lesbian would probably better because sex is nice. Ugh, I miss sex.

  “Shame. I was looking forward what you had,” he says, stepping closer.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll try to come up with a good one for when I run into you again.”

  “I look forward to it.” He smiles.

  How can he smile at me when I just insulted him, not once but twice?

  “Yeah, well. Sorry again. I’m usually a lot more gooder at speaking. You just caught me off guard.” Gooder? Gooder? Man, I’m epically failing right now!

  “Well, I’ve seen you twice now. At least this time you weren’t as shy as you were when I first met you,” he points out.

  “You were a stranger then.”

  “Am I still a stranger?” he asks.

  “Well, yeah, I mean, I don’t know you, know you? But you’re less of a stranger now, more of an acquaintance. Plus you know a family member of mine,” I ramble.

  “I’m sure you know of me,” he says confidently.

  “I may.” I school my features, not wanting to give away just how much I know about him.

  “How much do you know?” he asks, crossing his arms.

  Damnit, of course he can read thoughts!

  “If you’re asking if I know the reason you are working with my brother, I’ll be honest and say that I kinda do, but not because he crossed any professional lines and told me. A lot of it is public record.”

  “Honesty,” he mumbles then clears his throat. “And?”

  “And I’m sure that there are two sides to every story, and good reasoning behind what you did.”

  “You always so optimistic?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow.

  “I try to be. I also try to give the benefit of the doubt when I feel it’s needed.”

  “And I need it?”

  “I’m not sure. But something tells me that you might.”

  “Well, this conversation turned serious.” Brad nervously laughs.

  “Sorry. I can go back to insulting you. I am really good at it!”

  He laughs for real this time and bends to grab the handle of his gym bag that he let drop to the ground sometime during our exchange.

  “I should get going. I don’t know how much more I can take tonight.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. You know, if I was out of line…” I fumble around for the correct words.

  “Not at all. I enjoyed the banter. Thanks for not treating me differently.” He flashes a smile, a smile that could possibly make my panties drop.

  “Obviously, the filter on me is broken. So you’re kind of welcome.” I shift from one foot to the other. “Any time you need a hearty insult, I’m your girl.”

  “I’ll catch you around.” He smiles and begins to walk away before stopping and turning around.

  “Hey, Mika?”

  “Yeah?” I look up and our eyes meet.

  “Thank you for the honesty.” And then he turns and continues walking.

  Chapter Four

  Brad

  She moves over me, her hips rotating as she lifts her body then comes down grinding on me. I know what she’s doing; she’s using me to get herself off. I am more than happy to watch her come all over my cock. More than happy. As soon as she gets herself off, I flip
her over and fuck her, my fingertips digging into her hips. I hope I leave imprints on her flesh as I grip her hard and pull her body against mine over and over again until I feel the tingling sensation starting and my balls tightening. Once I do, I pull out of her and come all over her back.

  Marking her.

  Claiming her.

  Mine.

  My hand clutches my cock through the sheets and begins stroking, which wakes me with a jolt. Unaware of what I was doing to myself in my sleep, I relax into it and continue to fuck my hand until I come. I’ve jacked off nightly with images of Mika playing through my mind. I’ve been unable to exorcise her from my mind and it is starting to piss me off. Her luscious red lips, her satiny dark hair, her wicked green eyes, they’re all begging me, goading me, tempting me. My recent celibacy likely also plays a role in forcing her to the front of my thoughts since I’ve been denying myself any physical contact, purely because I still don’t trust anyone.

  I want to trust Mika. She seems like she would be a trustworthy individual. Granted. I don’t know her, but can see her and can tell that she’s somehow different. At least, I hope so.

  But I still couldn’t bring myself to fully do so. I’m fighting all the urges.

  She was honest with me when I ran into her at the gym earlier this week, and I appreciate her being real with me, but that’s not to say that she wouldn’t be a manipulative person. Also, who’s to say that she even wants me?

  It was five in the morning and I had my interview in four hours, so I figured to start my day early by heading to the gym and then grabbing myself some breakfast.

  I sling my gym back over my shoulder as I walk in the double doors. The gym at this time of day isn’t as full as it will be after work hours. I enjoy the quieter moments here like this as I don’t need to keep my guard up and my eye out for Mika since I now know we go to the same gym now.

  I spend an hour and half doing my standard routine, going from machine to machine. By the time I am finished, I’m feeling energized and ready to rock this interview. I pack up my belongings and head back home. I take my time getting ready and then fix myself an egg sandwich for the road.