Checking Him Out (A Single Mothers Romance Novella)

by Chris Genovese

  “Probably. You did come to the grocery store at midnight.”

  “To see you,” he said.

  “And your other girl? Where is she?”

  “She’s at home.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not my home. Hers I suppose. I don’t know, really. She could be out somewhere I guess. But probably at home. Look, I don’t really need anything. I just wanted to come in and get your phone number.”

  I took a deep breath, and like the idiot I sometimes am, just blurted out, “I’m not the kind of girl you probably think I am. I’m a single mom. My son is at home with his grandmother. I work a lot. I’m sorry…I just…”

  I sighed.

  I just what? I just don’t deserve an incredible man like you?

  “Calm down, Gina,” he said as he reached up and touched my cheek.

  I looked past him and saw Abraham watching us. How embarrassing.

  “I’m just asking for your phone number. That’s all. I can use that phone number to maybe call you sometime. That’s all. Just a call.”

  He was so sweet. And he was trying so hard. Why? I didn’t feel like playing games. I wanted to know what he was up to. He must’ve been able to hook up with any girl he wanted to. So why the hell was he flirting with me, a divorced cashier at Savory Save?

  I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “Mr. Cooper…”

  “Kevin,” he reminded me.

  “Mr. Cooper, I’m fine with honesty. What are you expecting out of this? Are you looking for a relationship or are you looking to fuck me?”

  He stepped back, both eyebrows raised, surprised to hear the word shoot out of my mouth.

  “Wow.”

  That’s all he said. Wow. Not good.

  “Where I’m at in my life, I have to be blunt,” I said.

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his muscular forearms flexing and looking sublime. He bit his top lip and nodded.

  “I see. Okay, fair enough. If we’re speaking honestly, then yes, I’d like to fuck you, Gina. I’d like to fuck you again and again. In many places and in many positions. And maybe even have a relationship with you if it turns out that’s what we both want. Now, if that is something you’re okay with, then give me your phone number please. If not, I’ll walk out of here and never ever bother you again.”

  He wants to fuck me. Yes!

  As the sudden excitement sent shocks through my body I realized that I hadn’t been afraid that he didn’t want a relationship, I’d been afraid that I don’t want one.

  Even with a stud like this.

  I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do the whole relationship thing all over again. But having sex I was sure about. I wanted to fuck this guy.

  He watched me with squinted eyes, obviously waiting for my answer. I reached up to my terminal keyboard and grabbed a pen.

  “Buy this gum,” I said as I reached out, took a pack from the shelf, and rang it up.

  As he fished out some money, I jotted my phone number down on the gum package. He took it and left.

  “I’ll call you,” he said.

  “You better,” I replied.

  He didn’t call.

  Chapter 3

  I went home that morning, kissed my son who was still asleep in his bed, and then lay down next to the phone, expecting to be awoken by its ringing.

  I wasn’t.

  I slept peacefully and woke to the sound of Jonathan crying because he didn’t want to get into the shower and my mother yelling at him that she wasn’t going to have any dirty little monkeys running around her house.

  Jonathan had a fascination with monkeys. Monkeys, poop, and boogers were three things that were sure to make him laugh. And laugh he did all the way into the shower.

  But no phone call.

  That night I wasn’t in the best of moods. Pam circled my register like a shark, with that look on her face that said she was just waiting to pounce and ask me to work a double. And I’d accept the shift because I was a coward and because Jonathan really needed a new pair of shoes. The kid deserved the world and I wanted to at least buy him a nice pair of shoes.

  It was one of those nights. Nobody had cash which meant everyone needed to run a credit card through and each time they did the cash register spit out an insane amount of receipts. First came the list of items purchased, then the list of points they’d accumulated on their frequent shopper account, then came the receipt that told whether or not the person was the winner of a month’s worth of free food, and finally came the one that required a signature.

  It really was ridiculous. In a world where everyone was going green, Savory Save was handing out reams of wasted paper.

  In addition to the credit card frustration, it seemed half the customers wanted to buy packs of cigarettes, all of which were nowhere near my register. Because of recent thefts, all cigarettes were locked in a glass cabinet.

  And we all know how hard it is to get through a sheet of glass. That’s top notch security right there.

  Then, what continued to happen, and usually does, was wishy-washy customers unsure of whether they wanted filtered or non-filtered or lights or hard pack or menthols…the cigarette decision was a lot like Baskin Robins 31 Flavors.

  I guess because I don’t smoke it bothered me more than it should.

  Lastly, it seemed every item on the shelf was priced incorrectly, and always by only a few cents, meaning I had the opportunity to try to calm down customers who were upset that their toilet paper was $4.29 instead of the $4.19 listed on the shelf.

  Or their no-boil lasagna noodles were $2.59 instead of the $2.49 price on the shelf.

  Sometimes I thought maybe Pam did that shit on purpose just to fuck with us. What better way to keep your cashiers awake than to hit them with irate customers every half hour?

  I was extremely tired, my eyelids bouncing up and down and my back hunched over in my seat as I watched the clock count down to my 7am clock out time. Pam had gone home already without asking me to work the double.

  I remembered the saying “Be careful what you wish for” as I thought of the shoes I wouldn’t be able to afford.

  “I’m an asshole,” came a hidden voice.

  I looked around and didn’t see anyone but I recognized the voice.

  “If this is my conscience speaking, let me just say that I completely agree,” I joked.

  “Well that’s no way to speak about yourself,” Mr. Cooper said as he peeked around the corner. “I think the exact opposite. I think you’re a gorgeous specimen, a beautiful woman with a rockin’ bod.”

  I rolled my eyes. I was pissed at him.

  “Douches are in aisle eight,” I said.

  He covered his face with a hand, rubbed at his jaw, and then ran the hand through his hair, scrunching it up at the top. He let go of his hair leaving it in a messy state. Even then he looked absurdly handsome. His strong chest stretched out the front of his T-shirt and I found myself searching the crotch of his sweatpants for his bulge. It was there.

  “You’re not going to believe this. I’m horrible with information. I lose stuff all the time. I wasn’t out of the store more than ten minutes before I realized I couldn’t find your phone number.”

  “So it was that important to you, huh?”

  “It was. It is. That’s why I’m back.”

  “I don’t have time, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Kevin.”

  “Mr. Cooper. I get off work in ten minutes and I want to go home, shower, and go to bed. I’m tired. And your games, although kind of flattering in the beginning, have grown stale,” I said as I started straightening up my area.

  I walked away from my chair and into the aisle in which he was standing. I straightened gum packages and chocolate bars.

  “I’m really sorry. I swear. I just lost your number.”

  I ignored Mr. Cooper and continued doing my end-of-shift tidying up. To leave work without a pristine station left for the next cashier was a big foul. As I finished the candies and turne
d to walk away, he reached out and slapped a box of gum, sending it crashing to the floor, a handful of packages flopping out of the box. I was really close to backhanding the guy. I glared at him.

  “I’m sorry. I just needed to get your attention,” he said.

  He dropped down and started cleaning it up. He handed the box to me so I could fix it on the shelf.

  “You said you get off in ten minutes?” he asked.

  “Eight,” I replied.

  “Good. No more phone numbers. Come home with me.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Was he for real?

  “I’m serious. You said you want to shower. Shower at my place. You said you want to climb into bed. Climb into my bed.”

  He’d just invited me into his bed. I felt the yearning between my thighs again. It was like he was able to flip an “on” switch on me and my pussy suddenly began preparing itself for penetration. I squeezed my thighs together and the tension felt good. I wanted more tension.

  I just stared at him for a second.

  “I don’t know you,” I said.

  “So know me.”

  This was crazy. I wanted to be as sporadic and daring as the girls in the movies, as trusting and needy as the young girls like the one my ex husband was fucking. Those were the girls who got fucked so good they couldn’t walk the next day.

  I wanted that.

  I wanted to be treated like a succulent piece of meat, like a goddess that was so desired my man couldn’t keep his hands off me, or his tongue, or his cock.

  I wanted to devour this man so that he thought of nothing but me if he tried sleeping with anyone else.

  But was I good in bed? I wasn’t even sure.

  I’d been with my husband for a long time. One guy before him in high school and one guy after him, a few months ago, an Internet hookup kind of thing.

  Thinking back, I couldn’t remember a single seriously steamy situation with any of them. I came sometimes with my husband but not always. Not even usually. In fact, I think it was quite rare.

  And that pissed me off too. I deserved a good man. I decided right then that I was going to fuck this guy so damn good that he’d be beating off to my memory for years to come.

  “Meet me in front of the store at 7am,” I said.

  “Seven minutes,” he said as he checked his watch.

  I was nervous as I hit the time clock. I punched out at two minutes after because it had taken me a couple of extra minutes to gather my things. I think I was procrastinating, kind of hoping that I’d walk out the doors and find that he’d flaked on me.

  I didn’t know anything about this guy. Serial killers pulled similar shit all the time. But he’d been in the store a lot. People had seen his face. So I was sure he wasn’t a killer.

  I checked myself in the mirror once before leaving, making sure to smooth down my hair and reapply lipstick. I sucked in my stomach and propped up my breasts.

  Does he really find me sexy? God, I really want to be sexy in someone’s eyes. And not just the, “Oh she has a nice ass” kind of sexy. I want to be yearned for. I want to be the object of someone’s fantasies.

  I checked myself out in the mirror and tried to see myself through his eyes. My uniform definitely wasn’t flattering, but I’d been wearing it every time Mr. Cooper had seen me, so he must’ve liked me in it…at least a little bit.

  His black BMW was parked at the curb, right outside the store entrance. The windows were tinted and I clutched my purse in my hands tightly as I contemplated whether or not I should approach the strange vehicle. Then he rolled down the passenger side window.

  “My lady,” he said.

  “You’re not going to use the chariot line are you?” I asked with a roll of my eyes.

  “Umm no, I was just going to say get in the freakin’ car will ya!”

  So I did.

  I climbed into the passenger seat and as soon as I closed the door the seatbelt automatically wrapped around my chest, locking me in place. I suddenly felt claustrophobic.

  There was no turning back at this point. He had me in his clutches.

  The ride to his place was oddly silent. I didn’t feel like joking anymore. I felt strange, like I’d just donated blood and had only eaten crackers all afternoon. I felt weak and a bit dizzy. And I couldn’t stop my imagination from turning to thoughts of being alone with Mr. Cooper in his home. And as I did, I got excited. My fears turned to wanting. He was driving too slowly.

  When we pulled into his driveway, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It wasn’t a mansion or anything like that but it was an amazing steel and glass, two-story structure that screamed bachelor pad. It was so modern and cool.

  “This place is fantastic,” I said.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Thank you. I designed it. It’s what I do.”

  Mr. Cooper was impressive. What was his flaw, other than losing girls’ phone numbers and indecisiveness when it came to choosing condoms?

  The inside of his place was just as incredible. He’d definitely read the Feng Shui guidebook. Everything in the place was in perfect harmony. And he had lots of water.

  A giant fish tank separated the living room from the dining room. One wall of his living room was covered by a magnificent waterfall, a downward stream running over rocks. The trickle of it was peaceful and powerful at the same time.

  Everything was black and white. Black leather couches with white pillows. A black dining room table with white cloth covered chairs. Black kitchen appliances. Even the photos and paintings that decorated the walls were done in black and white. Marilyn Monroe blew a kiss and James Dean flicked his lighter, both in sketch form.

  “Come to my room,” Mr. Cooper said.

  He walked away from me and I was left to follow.

  His bedroom was huge. He had a California king bed covered with a black blanket and white pillows. A big flat screen TV hung on the wall. I sat down on the edge of his bed and took in the room.

  My eyes were drawn to a black nightstand that sat next to his bed. On it was a porno magazine. A woman was spread eagle on the cover, licking her fingers with one hand as she stretched herself open with the other. I reached out and picked up the magazine.

  “So this is what you do in your alone time?” I asked.

  I looked up and he wasn’t in the room with me. So I flipped through the pages. I could see why he kept it around. The girl from the cover was bent over on another page, a muscle bound stud was behind her, driving his shaft into her pussy.

  I flipped a few more pages over and saw another woman spread eagle facing the camera but with a guy’s head between her legs, eating her out. Her mouth was open, her tongue touching her upper teeth. Her eyes were closed. She had the look of pure ecstasy and I had no doubt in my mind that her pussy was actually being licked at this photo shoot.

  It wasn’t just a picture. It was a graphic novel…and it was turning me on.

  As I looked through the magazine, I let my fingers drift between my thighs. I ever so gently slid them over my clit, scratching with my nails at the fabric, my clit throbbing beneath my pants, begging to be touched.

  I pushed a little harder and my hips moved involuntarily, my pussy’s attempt at fucking my hand. It liked to be touched and MY hand usually did the touching.

  “What would you like to drink?” Mr. Cooper called out from the kitchen.

  His voice startled me and I’m sure I jumped a little…but I didn’t remove my hand. He was behind me somewhere and couldn’t see me anyway.

  “Umm,” I said as I relaxed my breathing and rubbed at my clit a little more quickly. “Whatever you’re having.”

  I was wet and I needed to be touched.

  Not by me.

  He’d return soon to the room and when he did, he’d want to take me. I wasn’t sure how he’d go about it, but he brought me there for a reason. And I was dirty. I’d worked all night, had sweated all night, and had been moist between my legs more tha
n once.

  I stood and made my way into the bathroom. I considered asking him if it were okay to take a shower but he’d already told me so earlier at the store.

  I closed the door and locked it. I stood there in his gigantic bathroom, a room bigger than my bedroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. I let down my hair and watched it tumble in red tangles down my back.

  I was pretty.