Just a Little Junk

by Stylo Fantome

  “Think,” she growled to herself as she stomped into Bernard Krakow’s walk-in closet. “Think, Jojo!”

  She put on her underwear, then searched through his clothes. Mr. Krakow hadn’t been a very large man, it seemed. She couldn’t remember what he looked like standing up, but according to the inseam on his pants, he was a little shorter than her. She finally pulled on a large sweatshirt. It settled over the tops of her thighs as she padded out of the room.

  Archer was taking his shower, so she wandered into the kitchen and found a large pizza. She put a couple slices on a plate, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, then stood in front of the windows for a while. She ate while she contemplated, balancing the beer on the back of a Barcalounger.

  Maybe she was going about it the wrong way. She’d been trying to figure out what her role was in the whole thing, but she hadn’t gotten anywhere. She’d had the thought before – she needed to start looking at it from a different angle. Who was Bernard Krakow, and more importantly, who did he work for? She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong or illegal, so what the fuck had Krakow been up to?

  After she finished her pizza, Jo went back into the bedroom. The shower was still going and she stared at the door for a second. Archer was inside, scrubbing and cleaning and wet and … naked.

  Stop it. There’s slightly more important things going on right now.

  She found a laptop that was dead, so she plugged it in so they could investigate it later. Inside the closet, she stood back and once again looked over Krakow’s clothes. He favored a practical look. Lots of dress shirts and pants, with pullovers and plain dress shoes. Muted colors – navy, forest green, brown. So much brown.

  There is not one thing about this man that stands out in any way.

  All his shoes were arranged by light to dark colors, and while shuffling around them, she stubbed her toe on something hard. When she knelt down, she found a small safe. She frowned as she picked it up. What was the point of a safe if someone could just pick it up and walk off with it? She poked and prodded at the combination lock while she carried it back into the bedroom.

  “Wha’d you find?”

  She looked up to find Archer standing at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a pair of briefs and was in the act of pulling on a t-shirt. She cleared her throat and walked around him so she could crawl onto the mattress.

  “I don’t know,” she finally replied, sitting with her back against the headboard and the safe between her legs. “I can’t get it open.”

  “Weird,” he mumbled, and she felt him stretch out next to her.

  “What’s weird?”

  “He has a safe.”

  “So? He’s a drug dealer, he’s paranoid. Makes sense to me,” she replied, glancing at him. He was staring at the fireproof metal box.

  “Yeah, and I get all that, but if drugs and money aren’t valuable enough to go in his safe, then it makes me really wonder what was worth enough to put in there,” Archer asked, then he pointed across her lap. She followed his finger and saw a large brown package on the nightstand. Several bands of duct tape went around the middle, but a small tear had been made in a corner and a pinch of white powder had fallen onto the table top.

  Jo glared. A safe without anything valuable in it. A man who was as bland as dry toast. A dead body in her shitty car.

  “Fuck this,” she growled, flipping the safe over. It tumbled to the floor with a loud thump. “I am so tired of not knowing what the hell is going on.”

  “C’mon, Jojo,” Archer teased. “How is this different from any other time in your life?”

  She snapped out her leg and kicked him in the side.

  “Eat a dick, Archer.”

  Before she could pull her leg back, though, he grabbed her ankle and held it in place. Then both his hands were on her feet, giving her a light massage.

  They didn’t say anything for a while. Archer leaned over her foot, digging his thumbs into her sore muscles. She bent towards him, her heavy brown hair falling over her shoulder. Eventually, he sighed and moved his hands, massaging her calves.

  “You never wear your hair down,” he stated abruptly. She looked over at him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your hair,” he repeated himself, glancing up at her. “You always have it up in a ponytail. Even when you go out, it’s like up in a knot or whatever. I didn’t realize it was so long.”

  Jo grabbed a hank of hair, holding it up in front of her face. It was still damp, just barely starting to dry. It would be awkwardly wavy and frizzy in the morning.

  “I know. I always think I should cut it, but then I just can’t bear to,” she explained.

  “I like it. I mean, I like it long. Looks good on you.”

  “Why, Archer Calhoun, was that a compliment?”

  “Shut up, I compliment you all the time.”

  “You say things like ‘nice tits’ or ‘great ass’ – sometimes it’s nice just to hear something … nice,” she told him. He snorted, but he was smiling as his hands worked their way up and over her knee.

  “Right after we graduated, when your brother knew he’d be moving away and I’d still be living down the street, he made me promise I wouldn’t mess around with you,” he told her. She was a little surprised. No one had ever told her. Andy had never paid much attention to her, so it was kind of hard to fathom him being concerned about who was or wasn’t “messing” with her.

  “Why would he say that? I mean, you guys were friends,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, exactly – he knew how I was with chicks. Plus, you’re his baby sister. He’s a dick most of the time, but the way he talks about you, he thinks you’re like a princess. No one was good enough for you, but especially not me.”

  “Okay, I can’t even process this,” she laughed. “Andy thought no one was good enough for me?”

  “Yup.”

  “And why especially not you? I mean, you were his best friend. He had to have thought of all people, you’d be good enough.”

  “Because we were such good friends, he … I’m kind of a dick, too, Jojo. I make fucked up choices and do the wrong thing most of the time, and I’m just an idiot. Like us, for example. We’ve known each other forever, I’ve wanted to put the move on you for years, so what happens? I practically eat your face off at a rave.”

  She burst out laughing, pulling her leg away from him as she bent over again. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to stifle her giggles.

  “Practically,” she agreed when she got her laughter under control. “But I wasn’t exactly complaining. I’ve wanted you for a lot longer, and I never had the balls, either.”

  “It’s not just about that,” he sighed, reaching out and stroking his finger over her toes.

  “Then what’s it about?” she asked.

  “I agree with him. I think you can do better than me,” he said plainly. She lost her smile.

  “Maybe I don’t want better than you,” she countered.

  “Hell of an argument, Jo.”

  “I feel like I’m getting dumped,” she said. “And we aren’t even dating.”

  “You’re not,” he assured her. “I don’t know what we’re doing, or what’s gonna happen in the morning, and I just wanted to tell you …”

  He was still touching her foot, but he was staring absently across the room. Jo took the opportunity to study his face. He had almost two days worth of stubble, giving him a sexy, rugged look. He always kept his hair pretty short on the sides, but he’d let it get long on top, so the ends almost brushed his eyebrows. It gave him a sort of boyish look, the way the locks curled at the very tips. Paired with the naughty grin he was always flashing, he was almost impossible to resist.

  From the neck up, his most defining feature was probably his eyes. She loved them because at first glance, they just looked light brown. But they were hazel, and upon closer inspection, they were always shifting and changing, depending on the light or his mood. That moment, they were an almondy color, wit
h just a hint of green. His thick lashes made them pop out of his face – it really wasn’t fair, she spent a fortune on mascara to get the same effect.

  Jo could stare at him for hours, and felt like she had at different points in her life. At his amazing body and long legs. Those thick arms and broad shoulders. He was built like how she felt a man should be built, tall and strong and broad. A little dirty and a lot naughty. Perfection.

  More than ever, though, now she was noticing the other parts of him. How thoughtful he was – stealing the newspaper from the shut-in down the hall so she could read the funnies every day. Bringing her lunch before she had to go to her evening shift. Fixing her internet whenever the router gave her attitude, and letting her come over whenever she wanted, day or night.

  Like helping her. He’d just automatically trusted that she hadn’t killed the guy in her trunk. And when she’d pushed him about it, he’d said he would bury the body for her. How could she have been such an idiot? Was there anyone she treated half as nicely? Was there anyone she would bury a body for?

  Archer Calhoun, if you asked me to, I would dig a grave for you.

  She leaned forward and kissed him, catching him off guard. He was motionless for a couple seconds, then his hand was on the back of her head, his fingers curling in her damp strands of hair.

  “It’s okay, Archer,” she whispered. “I like you, too.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” he whispered back, all while smoothing his free hand up her bare leg.

  “Then what? What is it?” she asked, scooting closer to him and putting her hands on either side of his face.

  “I don’t know how to say this …” he sighed. Jo felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

  Holy shit, this is really happening. Be brave. Say it first.

  “It’s really okay,” she managed to say in a shaky voice. “I feel it, too. I think I’ve felt it for a while. I think … I think I’m in -”

  Her sentence was cut off as he quickly kissed her again. It was different from the first kiss, much more aggressive. Breath taking. She gasped as his hand shot up her thigh, squeezing where it reached her crotch.

  “You know,” he said as he started pulling at her sweater with his other hand. “You really do have nice tits.”

  “I know, Archer. And a great ass,” she laughed, ducking her head and lifting her arms so the material could slide free of her body.

  “How are those not nice things to say?” he asked, stretching out alongside her.

  “They’re great. Super. But you know what’s even better?”

  “What?”

  “If you don’t talk at all right now.”

  As she ran her hands under his t-shirt, Jo wondered if she would ever get used to having such free reign to touch him. Not that she’d never touched his bare skin before – he had little to no shame when he was at home, he was always walking around bare chested or in his boxers. But it was different now. Actually running her hands over his skin and feeling it jump and react to her touch. It filled her with a sense of power.

  “How did we go for so long without doing this?” she whispered, moving her hand up his chest and through the neck hole in his shirt, smoothing her way to his jaw. She tapped her nails against his bottom lip.

  “Sheer will power,” he chuckled, then he nipped at her fingertips. She laughed and pulled her hands free of his clothing. “And a lot of cold showers.”

  “This isn’t right,” she moaned as he rolled them so she was laying on top of him. “We’re in someone else’s bed, it’s been such a fucked up day. There’s so much to do, and we’re doing this.”

  “Jojo, if you can think of anything else you’d rather be doing right now, please. Inform me.”

  She wasn’t given the chance, though. Before she could open her mouth to make some smart ass comment, he sat upright. She squealed and held onto his shoulders, almost toppling over backwards.

  “I would get so mad at you.”

  He was whispering, his voice close to her ear. Then he bit down on her earlobe and she gasped, digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

  “Me? Why?”

  “I knew what you were doing.”

  “What was I doing?”

  “When you slept with that guy after Thanksgiving,” he hissed, and he paid her back by dragging his own nails down the length of her back. “And the one guy from our softball team.”

  “I …” she couldn’t properly respond as his nails went back up to her shoulders.

  “So competitive,” he chuckled as he moved his teeth to her neck. “You wanted to show me how grown up you were. Wanted to make me jealous.”

  “It’s funny,” she was panting as he bit hard enough to leave a mark. “I never thought you noticed.”

  “Oh, I noticed. And I’m not laughing.”

  “No. Not laughing at all. You fucked anything with tits. Fair is fair, Archer.”

  “It was different,” he sighed into her skin. “Completely different.”

  “How?”

  “You were doing it to get back at me. I was doing it to stay away from you.”

  “But why -”

  She gasped when he squeezed her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

  “They really are perfect. You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” he told her, lowering his lips to her flesh.

  “That makes two of us,” she panted, scratching her fingernails through his hair.

  He was moving too slowly, almost methodically. It was driving her insane. While his tongue lapped at her areola, she started squirming around on his lap. Desperate for more speed, more friction, more everything.

  “So pretty,” he breathed, moving to her other breast. She tugged at his hair.

  “Archer,” she growled.

  “What?”

  “Let’s make up for lost time.”

  He laughed, but got her message loud and clear. She helped him pull off his pants and after she’d chucked them across the room, she watched as he took off his t-shirt. While he was still struggling to get the material over his head, and she reached out and stroked the tattoo on his side, the large tree.

  “What does this mean?” she asked, lightly tickling his ribs. His skin jumped and flinched, making him chuckle as he pulled away from her.

  “Something special,” was all he said as he gently pushed her onto her back and went about removing her underwear.

  “I know everything about you, but I can’t know about a tree tattoo?”

  “You don’t know everything.”

  “I know a lot.”

  “You do,” he whispered, kissing his way up her stomach. His stubble scratched against her skin, making her moan and hiss.

  “So why can’t I – whoa, fuuuuuuck,” she groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head and her back arching off the mattress. Two fingers. Without a word or a warning, he’d thrust two fingers inside her.

  “Goddamn, Jojo,” he breathed, and she felt his lips against her neck. “I will never get tired of seeing you like this.”

  “Never tired. Nope.”

  “Writhing. Moaning. Wet. Needy.”

  “Dying. I’m pretty sure I’m also dying.”

  He laughed out loud, causing her to laugh, then her hand found its way to his dick and they were both groaning again. His forehead dropped to her breast bone as she began stroking him.

  “Yeah,” he panted. “Dying sounds accurate.”

  “How could you keep this from me for so long? So unfair,” she groaned, rolling her thumb over his sensitive tip.

  “Grossly unfair,” he agreed, sucking air through his teeth. “I’m going to make up for it, right now.”

  She moaned when he pulled his fingers away, then shrieked when he yanked her upright. He pulled her back into the position they’d been in before – both sitting upright, her on his lap with her legs around him. His erection stood up between them, drawing all her attention.

  “You�
��re so fucking beautiful,” she whispered, and he laughed again.

  “Look at me.”

  She lifted her head to stare at him, and didn’t break eye contact as he wrapped an arm around her hips. Kept staring as he lifted her, and still managed to hold his gaze as he lowered her back onto his shaft. She struggled to catch her breath and even moaned as he slowly filled her, past the point of comfortable even, but she still didn’t look away.

  “If this … is a contest …” she was so full with him, she felt dizzy. “I think I won.”

  “Then I guess you’d better claim your prize.”

  God, she loved being so close to him. She was a tall, somewhat gangly girl, but she felt small and delicate in his arms. They were also good enough friends that she didn’t feel awkward or self-conscious, either. And thankfully, their ecstasy-induced bang session had done away with those pesky first-time-jitters.

  Good. Because I could really use a stress reliever right now.

  They moved in sync, one of Archer’s hand on her hips, keeping her in time with his thrusts. She reached her arm out behind her, leaning back to grab the headboard so she could use it as leverage to push harder against him. He slid his free hand up her back, his fingers sliding around on her sweat slicked skin, then he scratched his way back down to her ass.

  “Holy fuck, Jo,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “You’re so … fuck, this is better than any dream. Any fantasy.”

  “So much better,” she agreed, then she bit down on her bottom lip.

  He was so deep inside her, so large, it was creating a paradox of mind blowing pleasure and an insane level of uncomfortable. Her nerve endings didn’t know what to focus on, it was driving her body crazy. She felt like she was going to explode at any moment.

  “I’m gonna fix everything, and then we are going to be doing this constantly,” he groaned, his head dropping back.

  “All the time,” she agreed.

  “You need to quit your job,” he urged.

  “Okay.”

  “You’re going to move in with me.”

  “Alright.”

  “I take care of you. You fuck my brains out.”

  “Deal.”