Hers to Hold

by Lexi Jordan

  Hers to Hold

  Hers to Hold

  Midpoint

  Hers to Hold

  Lexi Jordan

  Copyright © 2015

  Sophia put the last of Dylan’s shirts in the drawer running her hands over the fabric to flatten it. Dylan was her favorite client and it wasn’t because he hired a weekly cleaning service for his mansion making her job that much easier. Or because she’d find all kinds of kinky toys in his house adding a layer of intrigue that was otherwise lacking in her life. No, it was because of his generosity. He paid her far more than any of her other clients, while requiring her to do less work and his Christmas bonuses made angels weep with joy. The only thing that kept working for Dylan from being perfect was—

  “Sophia, darling.” The harpy sang out her name as she made her way to Dylan’s wardrobe. Miranda was Dylan’s girlfriend and without a doubt the worst person Sophia had ever met. “Oh thank goodness I caught you before you left. Snickers here had a little accident in the kitchen.” Miranda kissed the head of the little ratdog clutched in her hand. “Mind taking care of it before you leave?”

  “Por supuesto, Ms. Miranda.” Sophia smiled, replying with a fake accent. Growing up in Compton foster homes, her natural accent wasn’t one that inspired trust, but she discovered long ago pretending to be migrant worker fresh off the back of a truck would get her the good jobs. Some of her clients assumed she didn’t speak enough English to understand them and would discuss pretty much anything in front of her.

  Sophia didn’t mind cleaning the dog shit off the kitchen floor. After all, it was her job and Dylan would pay her extra for having to stay late. What irritated her was the sadistic gleam in Miranda’s eyes as she made the request. Sophia wouldn’t have been surprised if Miranda had gotten her ratdog to shit on the floor on purpose.

  Sophia gasped when she reached the kitchen. How did so much shit come out of such a small dog? Her newly waxed floor was covered in it and the room reeked. That ratdog needed to see a vet. Sophia grabbed a mop and bucket.

  She not only had to clean up the mess, she had to mop the entire kitchen again. Then dry it, then wax it, then buff it. She was an hour late leaving work.

  Sophia didn’t want to believe Miranda would purposely poison her dog just for a chance to humiliate Sophia, but she knew that woman was capable of anything. Sophia had once caught Miranda in Dylan’s bed with another man while Dylan was out of town. A woman capable of having an affair in her boyfriend’s bed was capable of all kinds of dirt.

  All Sophia wanted was to go home and enjoy her weekend, but she didn’t have any groceries. She’d have to drag her butt to the store tonight if she didn’t want to go back out until Monday. She sighed. One more thing to do and she could go home and chill.

  Grocery shopping wasn’t that much of a chore for Sophia. A single woman, living alone, she didn’t even need a cart. Wine, olive oil, chicken breast, chocolate ice cream, oregano, bananas—within fifteen minutes her basket was full of the essentials and she was in the checkout line.

  The cute black guy in front of her was buying crackers, bologna and a bag of rice. And she thought her shopping habits were questionable. The crap eating hottie swiped his credit card. A few seconds later, a familiar beep told Sophia what the poor girl behind the cash register had to awkwardly explain. “Sorry, your card was denied.”

  Hottie went into his wallet and pulled out another credit card, which was also denied. After the third card was denied he started counting change. At about a dollar ten cents he looked up at Sophia, his hazel eyes apologetic.

  She couldn’t take another minute of the tragic scene ruining her evening. She picked up her wine bottle by the neck and shook it at the two of them. “Look. All I want is to get home and enjoy my wine and eat my ice cream, but can I? No. Why? Because I get stuck in line behind Mr. Mastercard. If you don’t have money, maybe you should stay out of grocery stores.” Sophia turned to the checkout girl. “Just add his stuff to mine so I can get the fuck out of here.”

  Much to Sophia’s amusement, the girl rang up her stuff at sonic speeds. That wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t like she was going to bust the wine bottle over the girl’s head. At least not for that. “That’ll be $58.34.”

  She scribbled to the total on a check she’d already had filled out while she was waiting and handed it to the girl.

  Hottie was staring at her with a combination of confusion, awe and amusement in his expression. He was one of the prettiest men Sophia had ever seen, he should have seriously considered becoming a pimp if money was that hard. He looked like a man who could get women to do anything he wanted. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll have some cash tomorrow. If you give me your number I can pay you back. By the way, I’m Jamal, and you are?”

  Sophia waved him away as she headed for the door. “A private person. And anyway, I didn’t do it for you. I did it so I could go home before you started counting pennies.”

  He followed after her. “Well, I’d still like to pay you back. I have this thing about owing people—”

  Sophia held up her hand to cut him off. “Look, I paid for your grossly deficient lunch. Not your life story.” She pulled the bananas from her bag and shoved them into his. “Eat some vitamins and shit before you get cancer or something.”

  Most people backed away and left her alone when she went full tilt, but Jamal just stood there grinning stupidly as she turned and walked away. What a fucking moron, but man, five years ago, if a man like that asked her to hit the block for him, she would have had to give it serious consideration.

  The moment Sophia’s groceries were put away, she ditched her pants and poured herself a glass of wine. Her one bedroom apartment was modest, but clean and comfortable. She lounged on the couch and flipped on the TV. As she caught up on her shows, she imagined herself living a better life. A lady living in comfort. An heiress, possibly a princess. There had to be a princess somewhere who couldn’t live without her telenovelas, right?

  And this time, she not only got to imagine herself as one of the women whose homes she cleaned five days a week, she got to imagine her impoverished hottie next to her—making love on an exotic beach; driving 100 miles an hour down an empty road, her hand working its way up his thigh; flying to Paris, naked and straddling his lap.

  Her mind jumped from one fantasy to another as she reached under her t-shirt to pinch her nipple. As she rolled and tugged on it, she pretended his thick chocolate lips were against her breast instead. She got on her knees and slipped her fingers inside her pussy. As she leaned against the back of the couch she pretended he was behind her, thrusting into her with what she bet was a massively satisfying cock. She rolled her hips against her hand, unabashedly using her mental man candy to fulfill her every need.

  She sped up, picturing his frantic, erratic thrusting as he got close. Her hand was drenched in wetness, sliding back and forth across her clit as she fingered herself hard and fast. When she reached her peak, her thighs clenched, but she kept going imagining it was him, fucking her as she came on his dick. After her body stopped shaking and she couldn’t take anymore, she pulled out her hand and licked it clean. She slumped against the couch until she could find the force of will to make herself go to bed. She thanked her lucky stars she’d probably never see him again. A guy she was that attracted to could probably charm the shit out of her, and she hated the idea of anyone having any sway over her. Especially some brokeass who she’d probably end up supporting.

  Sophia crawled into bed a happy, satisfied, bachelor.

  The next morning she’d barely brushed her teeth when a knock at the door burst her blissful bubble of solitude. Sophia stood behind the door because she still didn’t have pants on and opened it as far as the chain lock would allow. Standing on the
other side of her door was Jamal, holding a folded twenty. She slammed the door closed, unlatched the lock and snatched it back open so she could yell at him properly.

  “How the hell did you find out where I live?” Sophia snapped.

  Before saying a word, Jamal’s gaze trailed down to her bare thighs reminding her that in her fury she forgot to wear pants. “I talked the cashier into letting me see the check you wrote, it had your name and address on it.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes. Fucking pimp.

  She grabbed the twenty out of his hand and went to close the door. “Well, thank you for paying me back.”

  Before she could get it closed, he blocked it with his foot. “Wait. There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

  Sophia pulled open the door again. “What?”

  “Will you go out with me?”

  “Hell no.” Sophia tried to shut the door again, but Jamal’s foot was still keeping it open.

  “Wait, why?”

  Sophia gave up on closing the door and decided it was time for her to step into his bubble and see how he liked it. She rested her hand on his chest and stared deeply into his eyes, her tongue running across her lips. “I understand. You look at these thighs and you imagine yourself between them. But believe me when I say, I’m not worth it.

  “I’m rude, crass and brutally honest. People don’t like me. And that’s fine with me because I don’t like them much either. Right now you’re blinded by the package. But I assure you, I’m not worth opening. So why don’t you turn around, head on out and thank your luck that you’ve dodged an awkward inevitable break up with a ruthless bitch, and I’ll go back to enjoying my weekend.” Now if that didn’t send him scurrying off, nothing would.

  Jamal looked down at the hand touching his chest, his breaths coming a bit heavier. “It warms my heart that you are so concerned with my time and future discomfort. If I didn’t know what a generous spirit you have, I might have thought that little tirade was about protecting yourself from rejection, and not about warning me. And while I’m grateful, I don’t think you know me well enough to know what I like. I’ll have you know I’ve recently discovered a fondness for sexy soulcrushing Latinas. So if the only reason for your refusal is concern for me, I’ll pick you up at 8pm.” He turned to head down the hall as if the whole thing had been decided.

  “Fine! I’ll go out with you. But I’m paying. God knows you don’t need to be running up any more credit cards on stupid shit.”

  Jamal looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Deal.”

  Sophia went back in her apartment before one of her neighbors saw her in her panties. She leaned against the door, her cheeks flushing. He was so damn charming he should have come with a warning label. He was no good for her. First off, he was a man, which made him no good in general. Secondly, he was completely broke. What was she doing messing with a guy with no money?

  Jamal had hunted her down like some sort of prey. It made her feel wanted. People didn’t want her, at least not after she opened her mouth—not as a daughter, a girlfriend or even an employee. Without pretending to be someone else, she wasn’t even fit to clean dog shit.

  It wouldn’t last. Maybe they’d go on a couple dates. Maybe they’d sleep together. But he’d eventually realize no piece of hot ass was worth putting up with her shit. When she was younger, she’d try to keep a guy, but always worrying about saying something that might upset or embarrass her boyfriend was exhausting. It’s one thing for her to pretend she doesn’t speak English at her 9 to 5, it’s a whole other thing to be someone else twenty four hours a day to keep a man. The latter wasn’t worth it.

  But a few dates wouldn’t cost her much, and she’d probably get a good dicking out of it. Far too much time had passed since she last got laid.

  Sophia spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Jamal. There was no point in obsessing over some guy that wasn’t going to stick around anyway. But none of the things she usually immersed herself in were distracting her. She had to turn off her telenovelas because she kept daydreaming through important scenes. When six o’clock came around and she could finally start getting ready she gratefully lost herself in hair, makeup and clothes.

  She didn’t know where he was taking her, so she went with a short red dress, with matching six inch heels that turned her into an Amazon. Smoky eyes, red lips and an over the shoulder hairstyle completed the look. Jamal didn’t stand a chance.

  Her heart leapt with a knock at the door. She waited, counting to three before saying, “Coming.” When she opened the door, she gasped. There Jamal was in an expensive jacket, a red silk shirt, black slacks and small gold loop in one ear Sophia just wanted to nibble on. He’d even gotten a haircut. The lines in his hair were more defined then when she’d seen him earlier. “You clean up good.”

  Jamal flashed his perfect white teeth at Sophia. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He offered his arm and escorted her out of the building.

  His car was a 1985 green Oldsmobile. One of the doors had been replaced and was blue. The license plate read JONES82. Sophia chuckled to herself, “Jalopy Jones.”

  Jamal opened her door for her, his smile faded for a split second before he recovered.

  Why did she always say the wrong thing? “Um…I’m sure it’s dependable.”

  He gave a small nod, but didn’t say anything.

  The silence was killing her as they drove so she attempted to make small talk. “So, what do you do?”

  “Odd jobs, mostly. I make money were I can. Sometimes I paint houses, sometimes I garden or clean pools. I pretty much take whatever I can get. What about you?”

  “I work for a maid service.”

  He looked at her sideways, “I can’t picture you as a maid.”

  “What did you picture me as?”

  “Some sort of corporate exec that lays off hundreds of people with a stroke of your pen without a second thought.”

  Sophia leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Sometimes you say the sweetest things.”

  Jamal gave her a big smile causing her heart to flutter.

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “Enrique’s.”

  The most expensive Mexican restaurant in Southern California. “There is no way you got reservations for Enrique’s.” He had to be messing with her because she’d insisted on paying.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “How?”

  “You don’t expect me to reveal all my secrets on the first date, do you?”

  Sophia folded her arms across her chest.

  Even as they pulled up in front of Enrique’s she didn’t really believe that’s where they were going. He handed his keys to the valet who held them as if he’d just been handed a dead rat, and she didn’t believe she’d be eating at Enrique’s. Not even following Jamal up to the hostess and hearing him say, “two for Jones,” had her convinced.

  It wasn’t until she was seated did she believe she’d actually be eating at Enrique’s. She leaned forward and whispered, “I can’t afford this place. I’d be like a month’s salary!”

  Jamal just laughed. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to let you pay anyway, I just didn’t want you to use it as an excuse not to go.”

  Sophia quirked an eyebrow, “You weren’t going to let me pay?”

  Jamal bit his bottom lip almost letting out a groan. “Don’t use that tone with me in public, I can’t handle it.”

  Sophia turned away. He looked as if he wanted to lay her on the table and take her right there. “I’ll watch my tone if you watch your expression.”

  “Deal.”

  When the waiter came to take her order she was very relieved. She needed to focus on something other than the mental image of being taken across the table.

  Knowing how little money he had she couldn’t bring herself to spend it, so she ordered a salad and a glass of water.

  Jamal ordered steak and shrimp fajitas for them both and a bottle of wine.

  After the waiter l
eft she leaned towards Jamal. “You must have cleaned a lot of pools since yesterday.”

  He smiled. “Not exactly.”

  When the food arrived, Sophia relished every bite. She was a cook herself and to taste the food of someone considered a master chef was a joy and privilege. No matter how things went with Jamal, she’d be hard pressed to regret going out with him.

  Jamal cleared his throat. “So, tell me about yourself.”

  Sophia took a sip of her wine. “I already did. It didn’t scare you off.”

  He chuckled. “Did you move to L.A. or did grow up here?”

  “Compton. Born and raised, you?”

  “My family’s from Danville.”

  Sophia cocked her head to the side. If he was from Danville, he was middle class at the very least. Why was he struggling to eat? “Is your family still in Danville?”

  “Yeah, my dad’s a dentist and my mom teaches middle school there.”

  “And they won’t send you any money?” What kind of people were these? A dentist and teacher letting their son scrape together pennies for crackers?

  Jamal sighed studying his plate. After a long pause he said, “My parents disowned me when I dropped out of MIT and ended up in the state pen for drug dealing.”

  Sophia took a bite of her shrimp. “You went to MIT?”

  Jamal stared at her wide eyed. She was from Compton. Did he really think he was the first guy she’d ever dated who’d done time? “Yeah, I wasn’t happy, so I decided to try a different kind of life. Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the problem was me, and not my life, it was too late. I swear I don’t deal anymore. One stint in prison was enough.”

  “I believe you. If you were still selling, you wouldn’t be having money problems.”

  “Yeah.” Jamal had that same look of shame in his eyes as he had when she made fun of his car.

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “People fall on hard times. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Jamal stared at her hand gripping his, which made her want to pull away. Then he looked at her so intently she wanted to run from the room. “Your mask is slipping.”