Too bad she’s a royal bitch. And engaged to some guy who probably doesn’t have a clue how to fuck her. I’m still going to rub one out to her tonight.
God, she’s right. I am a pervert.
My front door opens and I know it’s Steed letting himself in. Mr. T somersaults from running too fast. Those two cuddle up on the couch. He’s wearing his T-shirt that says “Pimp” on it. Mr. T not Steed. I toss a bottle of water at Steed and take the chair next to him.
“What’s up with your face?” He takes a break from scratching my ferret’s head to open his bottle.
I groan. “A misunderstanding with a prissy bitch last night.” She has a hell of an arm. And other assets.
He moves Mr. T off his lap, but the ferret climbs right back on. “Oh, I need to hear this story.”
I take a sip of my water. “There’s no story. She thought I was trying to come onto her and she whacked me. Like I said, a misunderstanding.”
“Were you trying to come onto her? Or come in her?”
I groan again. “You’re the type of person who should be getting hit. No, I wasn’t hitting on her. She was wearing one of those stupid ‘bride to be’ crowns.”
The phone rings. Not my phone, but the other one. I haven’t returned it to Stephanie yet this morning and she’s probably calling to yell at me.
I click the green button. “Good morning, Stephanie.”
“Benjamin.”
I swear she says my name just to say my name.
“I have a request from one of my clients for you.”
This is good. I’m so tired, but I’ve been working these parties almost every night. My dad has his surgery this week and it’s mostly paid for.
“What night is it?” It doesn’t even matter. I don’t have anything planned at night. My schedule revolves around these parties and making money.
“It’s tonight and this one is a different type of job. It’s a private party. Keep this phone and I’ll text you the address.”
I’m not sure why this is different. “All the parties have been private parties, I thought.”
She’s quiet for a second. “This will be a party for only you and the client.”
Sounds boring, but whatever. It’s another grand in the bank. At some point I’m sure Stephanie’s gonna want me to fill out some paperwork so she can claim all these payments on her taxes.
“This client is…particular and requires special attention, so the job pays $5,000.00. Javier will be there at 7:00 p.m. Don’t be late.”
She disconnects the call before I can say anything. Five grand? That covers the rest of the surgery cost, plus Jacob’s half. I don’t know what I did to deserve this luck.
“That your warden?” Steed asks.
“Yeah. I mean, no. She’s not my warden.” I’m still a little stunned from the news. “I have a party tonight that pays five grand.”
His eyes go wide. “Dude, nothing pays $5,000.00 unless you have to get rid of a body at the end of a night. What does she have you doing?”
He’s an idiot. “I told you. I just go to parties and flirt with women.”
“This makes no sense.”
He has to ruin everything. “Man, my dad has cancer. I need this money. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
Mr. T burrows into his shirt. “You better make sure this is a gift and not a curse.”
***
Javier rings the doorbell at exactly 7:00. Our conversations have become routine now. He hands me the box and goes to sit in the car. I undress and open the box.
You’ve got to be kidding me. A pair of shiny black briefs sit on top. I toss those aside and find worse below. The button down linen shirt is fine, but the pants are the worst I’ve seen. They’re leather with snaps down both sides. I can’t imagine who would wear this.
It’s $5,000.00, Ben. Suck it up and put on the ugly pants.
I listen to myself and put the whole outfit on. I’ve never been so uncomfortable. I lock up and go out to the car. I can see Javier pressing his lips together in the mirror. He’s trying not to laugh.
Five smackers, Ben. You can change when you get home.
He drives me across town to a large home. I step out and lean back in to talk to Javier. “I’ll text you when the party’s over.”
He looks ahead to the street in front of him. “Ms. Blakely said to pick you up at 6:00 a.m. on the dot, sir.”
“She did?” She could’ve mentioned this party would go all night. Maybe that’s why it pays more. “Okay.”
I walk up and ring the bell. To say I’m surprised when Juliana answers doesn’t quite cover it. She’s wearing a long black lace gown that’s totally see-through and a black robe on top that gives her even less coverage. The look works for her.
“Ben, I was so embarrassed with how I left things with you that I had to invite you over and make it up to you.”
I’m still standing on her porch. “Yeah. Um. Okay. That’s a good idea.” All the blood is in my other head and I sound like a boy seeing a naked lady for the first time.
She moves so I can come in and I just follow the direction my boner is taking me.
“Would you like a drink?” She’s standing in her entryway smirking and the bright lights cut right through her nightgown.
“Sure.” I’ve had women throw themselves at me, but Juliana is different. She’s a force of nature.
She hands me a glass of brown liquid. I don’t even ask what it is; I just drink it.
She swallows her drink, too. “Why don’t we cut through the boring small talk and go straight to the bedroom?”
I nod like a puppet. My dick nods, too. I was in a brief relationship a few months ago and that was the last time my poor dick has felt anything other than the touch of my hand. I didn’t mean to go this long, but life got in the way. I hope I don’t blow my load in two seconds.
I follow her down a short hallway to a set of double doors. She pushes them open and I stop. Candles are every-fucking-where. It looks like she’s about to make the worst music video. Juliana’s intense. I knew that going in. But she’s hot and she wants to fuck me. I want her to fuck me, so we have that in common.
She points to this giant four poster bed that almost touches the ceiling. “Get on the bed and lie on your back.”
I thought tonight was going to be boring, but it’s the opposite. I just hope Stephanie doesn’t find out I banged one of her clients. She’ll kill me.
Juliana stands by the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes.”
I’m not even thinking for myself anymore. I’m just blindly following instructions. I feel her take my left ankle and remove my shoe. Something tight wraps around my ankle and all I can tell is that it’s not her hand anymore. I feel her take off my right shoe and I crack one eye open.
“No peeking!” She swats my thigh so hard I jump. I don’t want to be a pussy, but slapping someone in leather pants is irresponsible.
I feel her straddling me. This is more like it. I’m scared to open my eyes, so I keep them closed. She takes my right wrist and puts it over my head. I feel something slip over my hand and tighten around my wrist.
Now my eyes pop wide open. I look over in time to see her fastening a leather cuff around my left wrist. “Oh, wait. Hold on!” I sound like a pussy. I can hear it. I try to sit up, but one hand and my legs are tied to the posts at the ends of the bed.
She sits back on her heels. “Am I going to have to blindfold you, Ben?”
“I, uh, I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.” I don’t even know what else to say.
She laughs, but it sounds fake. “This kind of thing is a normal, healthy method of pleasure. Do you want to leave?” She grinds herself against me. “It doesn’t feel like you want to leave.”
Fuck, she’s right. “It’s just unexpected, that’s all.” I can do kinky. I’ve just never been on this end of it. I don’t have a fragile male ego. I can let a woman take charge.
“Are you in or are yo
u out, Ben?” She tosses the robe to the floor and pulls the gown over her head.
“I’m in.” I might regret this later, but I’m in. I’m so damn in.
“Good.” She grabs my shirt collar and rips it open. Buttons bounce across the floor. She scoots back until she’s kneeling between my spread legs. She pulls open my pants on one leg and then the other. At least these ugly pants were good for something. Juliana reaches for something on the nightstand. She’s got a huge pair of scissors when she’s back in view.
“Time out again! What are those for?” Please don’t be dick-cutting scissors.
She huffs while I pull against the restraints. She doesn’t say anything. She just uses the scissors to cut each side of these awful briefs.
She leans over to the nightstand again. “No more questions.” She shows me the ball gag in her hand. “I’ll write you a check for an extra two grand if you stop asking questions.”
Is she serious right now? She’s going to pay me for shutting up? That would make a dent in the chemo bill dad’s going to have. I nod at her.
She shoves the gag into my shocked mouth and fastens it around the back of my head.
My stupid dick doesn’t care how embarrassing this is. He’s still rock hard.
“Now, you have something in your mouth, so it’s only fair I put something in mine.” She moves down and slides her plump lips around the head of my cock.
Well. Here I am. Gagged and tied to a bed. I knew it. I fucking knew it.
CHAPTER 8
ETCH-A-SKETCH
MIRYAM
“What are you going to do?” Sheba sits near me on her couch with a pile of tissues between us. “The bar mitzvah is in one week and your former fiancé is in The Bahamas banging his secretary on the beach.”
“I know.”
“On a trip you planned, I might add.”
“I know!” Sheba’s not being helpful right now. David left me two days ago, saying he wasn’t ready to be tied down. I had been living in his house less than seventy-two hours, but I guess that’s all it took. He gave me written notice to vacate the premises within thirty days. I was out that day. I would never live with someone who didn’t want me there. That was supposed to be our home where we started our life. Now his legal assistant is in his bed.
“I bet he’s drilling so much sand into her vagina that it looks like an Etch-a-Sketch up in there.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I can’t think about someone else with him right now.
“Remind me again why you can’t skip the bar mitzvah. You’re going through drama right now.”
I roll my eyes at her. “You know my family. I will never hear the end of it if I don’t go. I could skip a wedding before I could bail on a bar mitzvah.
She reaches over the tissue mountain and starts braiding my hair. “Okay then, let’s talk about who you’re taking to this shindig. My cousin Eli, the accountant…”
“No!” I turn my head, which causes her to pull my hair. “I went out with him three years ago like I promised. Never again.”
“I will tell him not to take his penis out at dinner.”
I clench and unclench my jaw. “The fact that he requires that instruction is reason enough to never see him again.” Eli is a nightmare and she tries to pawn him off on everyone.
“What about my friend from high school who just got divorced?”
I try to turn my head again and she jerks harder. “The one who got indicted for the Ponzi scheme?”
“Yeah, but his trial isn’t for another month, so I know he’s available that weekend.”
“Hard pass.” How do we not know any eligible Jews?
Sheba sits back and puts her feet on the couch. “You’re running out of options. Why don’t you tell your grandmother that David was a cheating bastard whose balls should be chopped off and tossed into a rusty blender and then go stag?”
As if it were that simple. “Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right? You want me to break an old lady’s frail heart and tell her that her beloved David is a piece of shit? Then you want me to sit in a room full of Jewish mothers and grandmothers who have nothing better to do than meddle with my love life? I would jump off a bridge before I do that.” That’s a little dramatic, but not far off.
She holds my hand on top of the tissue pile. “Tell me what you’re thinking in that genius head of yours.”
I’m thinking too many things at once. “I’ve been humiliated. I got dumped two months before my wedding.”
“I know.”
“I’m homeless and I’m sleeping on my best friend’s sofa bed.”
“I know. She’s a phenomenal best friend.”
“The love of my life left me for his assistant.”
“I know.”
I wish I hadn’t started talking because now I can’t stop. “Everyone in the office knows. I think they knew before I did.” I grab another tissue with my free hand. “I couldn’t even remember his assistant’s name before. Was I that out of tune with what was going on? All my colleagues look at me with pity. I worked my ass off in undergrad and law school. I finished in the top ten percent. I’m a damn good lawyer. But at the end of the day, I’ll be remembered as the woman who got left at the altar.”
“You didn’t make it to the altar.”
I glare at her. “Don’t parse my words right now. Everywhere I go, all I see is pity. I think I’m all cried out and then it starts all over again. I think of the life I was supposed to have and it hurts so much. I’ve never been so betrayed and debased. There’s only one person in the whole world who doesn’t know about my shame, and if I can spare the both of us that pain, I’m going to do it. I can’t tell her David left me.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
The only thing I can do. “I’m going to pray for a miracle.”
CHAPTER 9
THE DEALER
BEN
“You’ve got more money?” Dad has the remote in one hand and the TV Guide in the other. “Where are you getting this money?”
I flash back to the party in a mansion last night that ended in a hot tub. I haven’t heard from Juliana since that night a few weeks ago. I’m not sure if I should call her or wait for her to call me. She had me tied to her bed for like eight hours, so I think that means she should be the one calling.
“I told you, Dad. I got a second job.”
He squints at his magazine. He needs glasses, but he won’t get them. “A second job doing what? No legal night job makes this kind of money.”
“You’re being paranoid. I told you it’s just a second job.” I don’t want to lie to him, so I haven’t told him anything. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.
He looks up from the TV Guide. “Are you a drug dealer?”
I laugh at that one. “No, I’m not a drug dealer, Dad.”
He looks back at his magazine. “Because if you were, slipping your sick old man some of your stash would be a nice thing to do.”
“I’m not a drug dealer!” I don’t know what I am, but I know I’m not selling drugs.
“Okay, you’re not a dealer. But if you were…” He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes.
“I’m not.” I cross my arms and roll my eyes.
“I get it. You’re not dealing drugs. All I’m saying is that if you were, it would be a nice gesture to share with certain sick family members who have pain and discomfort.” He puts down the TV Guide and flips through channels like there’s a prize for the fastest thumb.
I can’t deal with him today. Jacob had to work, so I’m doing a double shift babysitting him. His surgery was good and the doctor thinks they got all the cancer cells. He’s been home from the hospital almost a week now. I have to make him get up and walk every hour, which requires at least five minutes of fighting about how he’s plenty active and doesn’t think he needs to walk this much. I had to clean out his cabinets and fridge of all the food he can’t eat. He wants a steak, but he’s on a soft food die
t. I had to unplug his phone from the wall and hide it because I caught him ordering food for delivery twice. He’s got a pudding cup on the tray table next to his chair, but he won’t eat it. That’s a whole other fight.
“Dad, you know you can type in the channel you want and the TV will go right to it?”
He doesn’t look away from the screen. “It’s faster this way.”
“How can it be faster?” I don’t know why I’m trying to argue with him about something else. I must’ve lost my mind. I don’t do anything anymore other than take care of plants, take care of Dad, and take care of women at parties. It’s getting to me.
“It’s faster.”
He’s so frustrating. Having the surgery over is a big worry off my mind. I can’t wait for him to be off all these restrictions so he can go back to being the normal amount of frustrating. Jacob should be here in about an hour to take over. I need to get the phone and clothes back to Stephanie before she chops off my balls. I don’t know why she won’t let me keep the phone when I go out for her almost every night.
When Jacob comes in, he’s carrying grocery bags. I meet him in the kitchen and help him unload.
“Is there anything I want to eat in there?” Dad yells from his chair.
“Just applesauce and rice,” Jacob yells back.
“You’re both out of the will.” He’s probably not kidding about that part.
I roll my eyes. “Good luck with him. I need to get some rest and see if I’m working tonight.”
He puts the last of the microwave rice in the cabinet. “Later, bro.”
I check Stephanie’s phone as soon as I get in the van. I never take it into Dad’s house because that’ll just cause more questions. Thirty missed calls. I’m dead meat.
I call Stephanie back and it doesn’t even ring a half ring.
“I pay you enough money for you to be available to me at all times. Do you want to tell me why you still have my phone and why you’re not answering my calls and why I should continue to keep you on my payroll?”
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