by Mary Potter
“You know what’s going to be great about that ride down the coast?” I say.
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to have you finger fuck me when I drive down so I can suck your cock on the way back.”
“You are an unbelievably hot, sexy woman, Ashley, and I love you.”
TYLER
BOYS IN BLUE
SAN FRANCISCO
BOOK 4
MARY POTTER
Contents
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Chapter 1
TYLER
I need to find another place to live. It’s no surprise I need another apartment. I know switching apartments with my friend’s girlfriend was a good idea. After his whirlwind instant romance with the girl, my good friend, Corey, wanted to be with her all the time. How can I say no to my friend? It was the right decision. His girlfriend’s an artist and needed my old bedroom to turn into an art studio. She got the art representative she needed to launch her into a grand show. The gallery show was a hit. The paintings sold out within the first hour of opening. All I got was the girl’s leftover shoebox apartment. She called it an ‘adventurer’s paradise.’ I think it’s a little bigger than a walk-in closet. She had said I’d love it when I agreed to move in; it was right down the road from everything.
It was a closing selling point. I fell for it. It took a while for me to wrap my head around that statement. By that point, I had unpacked the stuff that fits in the tiny place and stacked the rest in storage. Looking back, I agree it wasn’t a trap, but as I lay awake at night listening to the neighbors fucking, I realize it’s time I get a place that doesn’t have paper-thin walls.
I’m happy for Corey and Ashley. I think she’s the sexiest and wildest mail carrier on the planet. Corey tells me about the kinds of things they like doing together. Not just the spontaneous escapades outside my old apartment, but how they turned my old bedroom into an art studio. They have time for each other and still time alone. Ashley needs room to create. Being an artist is a lonely job. That’s when Corey works and has time with the Boys in Blue.
I need someone that’s just like Ashley, playful, without being too flirty. I want a knockout, curvy, younger woman who is whip-smart and doesn’t mind that I’m a cop. Sometimes it doesn’t work when you lead into a relationship thinking you are with the right person, only to find out differently. They have some strange snag with the badge.
I’m older, and I know what I want. I don’t compromise. I don’t have to settle. I stay active, and I am a lot healthier and fitter than some of the rookies on the force.
I decide to start apartment hunting in the Golden City. I agree to meet with the real estate agent handling the apartment listings. She knows my price range, and she knows my career. She says she has everything I need, and we can look at more than a few places.
We agree to meet at the Embarcadero District. I know there’s a kiosk at the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market where I can pick up a refill of homemade raspberry preserves. My real estate agent, Amanda, knows the place.
It’s a great place to meet up, even if it’s for apartment hunting. It’s another beautiful day in San Francisco, and I have a few days off and no plans. It’s perfect just to feel my way into a new place, no pressure. I’ll be happy to put up my feet in an area that is right for me and not just a hand-me-down apartment so my friends have a bigger place and privacy when they have sex.
“Tyler?” she says. Her voice is different in person than over the phone.
When I look up from reading the sports page on my smartphone, I think there’s someone, somewhere who just sent a vision in blue to meet me. When I meet my real estate agent, I believe it’s kismet.
“Amanda?” I say.
I face her fully. I pocket the smartphone and extend my hand. I can’t help but smile. Amanda is the kind of girl who I think has two sides - nothing nefarious - just a professional side, and something else. The one before me in the sexy navy blue pencil skirt that shows off her curves, and a sheer woven white collarless blouse with a necktie and full loop button jacket. It’s a relaxed fit bodice and a slight high-low hem with notched sides. She wears her sleeves loose and long but pushed up on the cuffs to show off her bronzed forearms. I see a hint of a modest inner arm tattoo that hides under the billowy sleeve. I want to get a better look at that tattoo.
I suspect it’s the other side of Amanda that sheds the business clothes which show off the skin art. I see it in those cinnamon eyes. She has a full, teasing smile that fits perfectly on her diamond-shaped face.
I feel like I’m standing before her looking a little distracted, because I’m imagining her peeling off the work attire. I like a girl who doesn’t take home her work. I know better than bring my work home with me.
“Does that need refrigeration?” she asks. Amanda sees the reusable pouch I use when I’m shopping at the open-air market.
I lift it with one hand. “It’s a guilty pleasure,” I say.
Amanda narrows her eyes and points. “If that’s homemade raspberry preserves from the Big Bunny shop over there, I might have to fight you for it right now.”
I laugh. I don’t know if it’s Amanda’s way to break the first impression barrier, but she did a great job putting me at ease.
“It might be, you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Well, I guess,” she says. There’s a lighthearted pout added at the end. “Do you want to take one car?” she asks. “This way, we can get around without worrying about traffic, and we won’t lose each other.”
“I don’t mind. Sounds perfect,” I say. “Yours or mine?”
Amanda taps the leather-bound planner in her hand. “I have all the addresses. It’s easier if I take you around. I know the streets and the places where we’re going.”
“I am all yours,” I say.
AMANDA
I am at a point in my life where I’m comfortable with who I am and what I want out of everyday living. It’s the kind of thing the reflection in the full-length mirror shows every day when I get up for work. I don’t have a lot, and I work hard for what I have. But I am confident, and I know good things come my way. The girl in the mirror gives me a knowing, mischievous smile as I finish dressing. It’s as if she knows something I don’t about the rest of the day. I know better than read too much into her. She’s crafty. She can be a little mysterious sometimes. She’s experienced in love. She knows there are ways to have fun that are illegal in a few states. And she is perfectly fine with that.
I like the way the girl in the mirror looks today. She’s got the straight, burgundy hair with sweet, side-swept bangs. Her eyebrows are even because the girl in the mirror spent a little time last night getting intimate with tweezers and patience. She added a little blended color to the eyebrows and brought out her cognac eyes with the right amount of eyeliner and mascara.
Sometimes it’s easier to tie back the hair in the back. Today, I decide to leave it down and let it flow. I like the way the side-swept strands fall around my face. I can push it back to my ears later. I like the girl in the mirror’s presentation. She shows ‘professionalism,’ but whispers, ‘naughty.’
The top accents my breasts without showing too much cleavage.
I take a deep breath and nod to the girl in the mirror. I need the commission for the lease. But I don’t want to look too desperate. The navy blue hip-hugging skirt is one of my favorites. I’m a curvy girl, so finding the right look sometimes comes with compromises. I shop on a budget, and the vintage consignment thrift store in Eureka Square has a lot of choices for me.
I love the way the skirt seems tailored for me. I know it shows off my hips. It defines my rear. And when I sit down, I don’t have to worry about it riding up too much.
It’s about a positive attitude and a generally balanced outlook. I know in
life if you want something, you have to go for it. I know it’s best to wear a comfortable pair of shoes when you’re out, grabbing at what you want from life. I know my outfit says professional and sassy. I know I can get the commission I need because Tyler sounds excellent over the phone. I have a good feeling and a great pair of comfortable shoes.
When I meet the older man face to face, I feel like everything I did to prepare for my client that day was well worth the time and energy. The girl in the mirror would be proud - and a little jealous.
Chapter 2
TYLER
I sit comfortably in the passenger seat. Amanda keeps a tidy car. I suspect it has to do with chauffeuring clients.
“How about we work our way further out of the bay area?” she says. “I have a long list of apartments within your price range and distance from work.”
I look at her profile. Her cinnamon eyes hide behind the chic polarized, mirrored sunglasses.
“I am open for anything,” I say. “I have a few well-deserved days off. I am at your disposal.”
“Well, that’s great. You’re my only client today. So, if you don’t mind spending some time with me, I can show you a few nice choices.”
I take a deep breath and enjoy the ride. The interior of the car smells like refreshing citrus.
“I thought you’d be busier today,” I say. “It’s sunny out. I know people like to shop for anything in weather like this. I called a guy last week to set up a few appointments. He blew me off. He said he didn’t have any time to show me the apartments on his list.”
I see Amanda scowl at the statement. “People like that make my job easier. I sometimes hear it’s about the voice on the phone.”
“Really?”
“Sure, some Realtors don’t have to take everyone who calls. They can pick and choose.”
“So, you think the guy had openings, but because I have a penis, he passed on me.”
Amanda giggles, and she darts around a Honda that braked too fast. I am impressed with her ability to multitask.
“It’s possible. I can’t speak for the guy. But I know it happens.”
“Is that why you took me?” I ask.
It’s a little edgy, but I feel like Amanda doesn’t mind the good discussion. I’m a guy, so most conversations revolving around sports or sex are good topics. We’re a basic and straightforward animal. Easy to please; food, water, sex, and we’re all gummy and cuddly. At least, in my experience, but it’s been a long time since I got cuddly with anyone.
“You mean because you have a penis?” Amanda asks, clarifying the question. There’s a smile on her lips when she glances at me. I can’t see her eyes through the mirrors. I see little faces of me smiling back at her. “I took you because I have an open schedule. Even if you had a vagina, we’d have this same conversation—well, you’d be sharing the ride, anyway. This is my first showing, shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“What?” I ask. “Was it the comment about the penis and vagina or that I’m your first client?”
Amanda grins. She moves the car to parallel park against the curb. It’s a flawless move without hesitation. I get the impression Amanda isn’t a woman who hesitates. She turns off the car and looks at me, finally removing the sunglasses. I see her eyes. They are rich gold with green flecks, like sparkles trapped in amber.
“So, I don’t want to come off like a whiny—well, you know. I want to make this a pleasant experience, and I want you to have the right place. I think when it comes to a residence, it’s not just a place to put your stuff and sleep. You want to feel good being there. My job is to facilitate your needs. I can do that, but I want you not to think that I’m desperate. I have something to fall back on if we can’t find what you’re looking for, so please don’t worry about me.”
I look down and see Amanda’s hand rests on my knee. It’s not flirtation. She dropped her hand to emphasize her conviction. I know she’s an assured woman and doesn’t need coddling.
“What is it you do when you’re not out begging for a commission?” I ask.
Amanda laughs. She checks the side mirror before she gets out of the car. She meets me on the sidewalk.
“I can go back to the department store and get as many hours as I want in that soul-sucking environment.” She’s grinning and puts away the sunglasses. She has a set of keys on a large key ring that looks heavy and hiding in her small clutch purse. “I can stay at the store until I die. I know the managers want me back as soon as this venture fails.”
“Is that you talking or the other zombies from the store?” I ask.
I follow Amanda to the security door. She taps in a code she’s memorized, and I hold open the door for her to go inside. I know this is gentlemanly. I know it’s something my father taught me, it’s good manners. I do it because I want to see Amanda’s ass in that skirt as she walks upstairs. I think it’s noble, plus I love the view.
“It’s not important right now,” she says.
I know we’re back to her emphasizing the lack of self-pity. Amanda stops walking, and I almost press my face into her lovely round ass. I stop and glance at her. She’s got a look that suggests she liked the idea of me falling into her.
“We’re here for you, no pressure, and no obligations.”
Amanda starts walking again. She makes it to the top of the landing. I follow her up, keeping a social distance behind her.
“I bet you can get a lot of business reusing that line on other renters.”
“You think so?” she says quickly. “You’re like the twelfth or twentieth I’ve used it on. It works every time. Especially if the prospective renter has a penis,” she added with a grin. I follow her to the end of the hall.
“There you go, bringing my penis up again.”
Amanda has a key for the apartment ready. She glances at me. I see her eyes drop to my crotch quickly. I think I wasn’t supposed to see her looking. I like that she looked. It lets me know Amanda likes the playful banter.
AMANDA
I drop the keys into the purse and swing it to my hip. I pull up the planner and look at my notes on the place. I give Tyler time to take in the fullness of the home. It has a vaulted ceiling and stark white walls without wall coverings and furniture on the wood laminate flooring. Sunshine beams into the place from tall, skinny windows.
I need to read my notes, but Tyler’s broad shoulders and tapered waist distract me from my work. He’s built like an upside-down triangle. He’s sharp and physically fit. He’s got a great body and an attractive smile. When he crossed in front of me entering the apartment, I detected a mild spicy musk that accentuated his appearance with a splash of flavor.
“It’s spacious, with a loft. It’s got a view of the Bay if you lean out the window and look hard to the left, that is,” I say.
Tyler looks at me, grinning and shaking his head. I like his sense of humor. It’s affirmative and improvisational, and precisely like my humor.
“The loft fits a king-sized bed—”
“I sleep on the floor. A couple of flattened cardboard boxes and an old blanket, and I am good to go.”
“Well, lucky for you, the business three doors down-sell appliances, so you’ll get your pick of fresh furniture. And there’s a thrift store across the street so you can probably get a spit-soaked pillow to go with that ratty blanket.”
“Sweet!” Tyler says, pulling a fist to his side as if he just scored. “Does the apartment come with a disclaimer?”
“You mean if someone manufactured meth or something? There’s nothing listed here.”
He chuckles. “I like how you go right to meth. But there was a double homicide in the apartment across the hall from this one last year.”
“Oh my,” I say. That one got by me.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I bet the tenants got the place for a steal.”
I see his shoulders sag a little with the rest of the wandering around.
“You’re not feeling it, are you?”
; Tyler shakes his head. “It’s got nothing to do with the meth, the rats, or the homicide. I’m just not interested in a loft bedroom. I think when I go to bed; I want to keep my feet on the floor instead of climbing a ladder.”
“Noted,” I say, scribbling gibberish on my planner page. “And I made a note about no rats too.”
“Oh good,” he says.
“Next place?” I ask.
“Yes, please.”
Chapter 3
TYLER
H ow in the world have I never met someone like Amanda before, or I should ask myself, why have I never met Amanda before. She’s a girl who is right on with the wisecracks. I love that she’s not afraid to add to the pun when I leave an opening.
“Sometimes, people don’t get my humor,” I say. We’re on our way to the next location. It’s a little after ten in the morning. I know Amanda said she has an open calendar, and I don’t want the day to end. “I once stopped practicing sarcasm for lent.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“I don’t know, turns out I don’t know what lent is either.”
“Well, there’s always time to get to know a few ancient customs to screw up.”
We headed into the Duboce Triangle. It’s a pricey neighborhood centered in San Francisco that rests below the hilly slopes. Amanda finds a place to park and gets her keys ready for the next apartment. I love following her into the building. I detect a hint of apple and lilac from her beautiful, wispy hair. Every opportunity I can get close to her, whether passing through a doorway or walking in the corridors of the apartment buildings, I take what I can get and love it.
I feel once we’re inside the apartment, it’s too…well, how do I put it?
