Wet

by Ruth Clampett

  She taps her screen. “See, here’s a picture of Richard, who’s apparently a dom.”

  I squint at the screen to see a beefy guy with tattoos holding handcuffs in his hand and a four-poster bed behind him with only a sheet over the mattress.

  “Is this a potential hook-up?”

  “Indeed it is. He wants to see me tonight in his lair. He’s insisted actually.”

  “Really? So I’m guessing Richard won’t be bringing you flowers and taking you out for dinner.”

  “Is that what you do with girls you date?”

  “Yes,” I lie. I haven’t actually done that yet, but when I meet the right girl I will. It’s part of my master plan.

  She sighs so loud it’s practically a swoon.

  “Lucky girls. Are you for real? You know, you’re pretty dreamy—a stand-up kind of guy, who spends time with his family. To top it off you’re so easy on the eyes.”

  Would she still think I’m dreamy if she knew what we did together in my wild fantasies last night?

  She holds up her phone. “So no, if you read the text you’ll see that Richard only wants to tie me up and fuck me repeatedly.”

  My chest tightens and my fingers clench into fists. “How repeatedly?”

  “Well, he says in every orifice.”

  I angrily grab the phone from her hand. “Are you serious? What the fuck?” I read his message and then turn to her. “You aren’t going to meet up with him, are you?”

  “No. He doesn’t appeal to me at all, and I don’t want to be tied up and fucked in every orifice.”

  “Glad to hear it. Hey, show me the latex guy you told me about.”

  She takes her phone and runs her fingers over the screen until she finds what she’s searching for. She hands me the phone.

  “This guy is perfectly ordinary looking. Good looking even. What the hell?”

  “I know right? And I even think he’s married on top of it. See how there’s a thin stripe of skin that’s lighter on his ring finger?”

  “Asshole!”

  “So you see what I’m up against?”

  “I do.”

  This woman deserves better. Too bad I can’t be her knight in shining armor to save her from all these perverts but I have to hold my line with her. Besides . . . I’ve been accused of being a pervert because I’m obsessed with sex, so who am I to judge?

  “So is there anyone at all on this Tinder thing that appeals to you?”

  “Well there’s one I’m considering.”

  “Show me.”

  She scans through what must be a long list of men before she clicks the screen. “His name is Scott.”

  I study the screen. “He looks all right. Does he want you to dress up in something weird?”

  “No, he wants to meet at a wine bar.”

  “You sound hesitant.”

  “I don’t know. He said that he liked that I was naughty and we haven’t even met yet.”

  “Hmmm, well if you talk to him like you do to me I can see why he’d say that.”

  Her cheeks blush. “I guess you’re right.”

  For a second I wonder if all of this sexy talk has been an act with her, but then she opens her mouth again.

  “So if you’d screwed me when you had a chance, things really would’ve been so much simpler.”

  “You and your pretty mouth.”

  “Well I wouldn’t have to go see if this guy’s a creep or not.”

  “True . . . but there’s nothing simple about me, Elle. And if I’d screwed you, you’d know that.”

  “You love to taunt me don’t you?”

  I stand up. “Just a little bit.

  I want to do so much more than taunt her. It’s taking everything I have not to reconsider her offer. It’s not just the sex, there’s something about her that makes me want to know the sides of her she hasn’t shown me yet.

  “This has been enlightening, but my number one woman is expecting me.”

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “Definitely. My mom is awesome.”

  She pushes me in the shoulder. “Get outta here.”

  Two days later I’m on my knees in her yard again. The grass is still damp, but warm and it has that freshly cut smell. I appreciate her Studio City neighborhood with the understated ranch homes with good-sized yards. It’s certainly different than some of the lame postage stamp-sized quasi yards on the other side of the hill due to the overbuilding epidemic. Crazy L.A. real estate.

  Elle’s stretched out on the nearby chaise lounge sunbathing just to taunt me. If she hadn’t pushed her skirt up high and stretched out those long, shapely legs I’d probably be getting this job done more quickly.

  She glances up from her magazine. “So you really don’t have a girlfriend?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you don’t do hook-ups?

  “Not anymore.”

  She lowers her sunglasses and gives me a skeptical look. “And you don’t miss sex?”

  “Of course I miss it. Some days it’s all I think about, but I’m committed to this program.”

  She pats the chaise lounge next to her. “Time for you to take a break. I want to hear all about this program.”

  I drop the shovel, and lift up, brushing the dirt off my knees. She gazes at my body as I approach her. I can tell she’s checking out my junk again. There’s nothing subtle about this woman. I grab the iced tea she left out for me and down half of it before I sit on the chaise and stretch out.

  “So this program? Are you going to be a priest? Is that it?”

  I scoff. “Hardly.”

  She throws her hands up in the air. “I give up! What then?”

  “I’m doing this program my dad talked me into joining. It’s called AUL, short for Abstinence Until Love.”

  “Seriously? And why did your dad think you needed to be a part of something so insane?”

  I rub my hands hard over my face. She isn’t going to let this go. I’m not sure how to tell the story without sounding like a complete asshole.

  “He walked in on me.”

  “Screwing a girl? What’s the big deal about that?”

  I fold my arms over my chest and keep my eyes focused forward. “He walked in on me with three women in my bed.”

  “That you were fucking?”

  “Well, generally speaking. I was only fucking one at the time but there was other stuff going on. We’d been at it all night.”

  Her mouth falls open and she leans over and slaps me on the arm.

  “You stud! You beast!”

  “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. I practically gave Dad a heart attack and I was drunk out of my mind at eight in the morning. I didn’t even know the girls’ names.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “And the reason he came into my apartment is I was late meeting him on an important job.”

  “Ooo, you really screwed up.”

  “Big time. He threw out the girls and then made me take a cold shower. And the first thing he told me was that he was going to tell my mother, Millie, all about it.”

  “The mom you mentioned adoring . . . your number one girl?”

  “The very one. He knew it was the worst thing he could say to me. I’m her favorite and the apple of her eye. I can bear almost anything but disappointing her.”

  I look at Elle and she actually looks distraught.

  “Oh that’s awful.”

  “So he gave me a choice. I guess he’d been hearing stories about my antics for a while. He said he knew I had a problem—that sex had become an obsession and my constant need to scratch the itch was ruining my life. Doing research he’d learned about this program through the church he wanted me to check out. If I was willing to commit to it for four months, he wouldn’t tell Mom.”

  “Abstinence Until Love? That sounds like something a church would come up with.”

  “I do it in conjunction with Sexaholics Anonymous, which isn’t run by the church. Although they let them use their commun
ity room for the meetings.”

  She gives me the side eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It was a joke to me at first, but once I stopped rolling my eyes at the meetings, it started making sense.”

  She licks her lips. “You were a sex addict?”

  “I still am . . . always will be. It’s all about managing the disease.”

  “Oh, the irony! You are a reformed sex addict and I am sex starved. What a cruel world this is.”

  I give her a big grin. “It is ironic.”

  She pushes her sunglasses back up and hikes her legs up so her entire thigh is exposed. “Well at least we have one thing in common.”

  I look over at her.

  “We both think about sex all the time.”

  Elle’s in the house when I finish the repair and run a test to make sure that it works as it should. As I finish up I think about the part of my addiction story I didn’t share with Elle. I’ve never told anyone about the call I got from the health office two months after my wild foursome, that I needed to come in for testing. I never heard the STD’s the caller mentioned, since my mind went black and my body into shock when he mentioned AIDs testing. AIDs? Had I become so cocky with my lifestyle that I forgot I was playing with fire?

  That was a week I’ll never forget, starting with punching a hole in my living room wall after the call disconnected and messing up my drafting hand. I ended up on my knees in church that night knowing full well that if I had one or all of the things the caller mentioned, my prayers won’t do me a damn bit of good.

  That night I made a promise to God and myself that if I came out of this clean the next woman I took to bed would be the one I’d fallen in love with. Little did I know that love was a language I had to learn to speak, and after all this time I still haven’t found the girl who could inspire me to learn.

  The humiliation of going for testing was profound and as I waited my turn surrounded by people I would have previously looked down upon, I realized that I was now one of them. As the minutes ticked by I promised myself I would never end up in this fucked-up situation again.

  So no one knowing this would be surprised that I’ve stuck to my program religiously and have not missed a meeting. I knew the grace of God was with me when my results came back clean, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to test Him again.

  I knock on the back door to let Elle know I’m leaving. When she swings open the door she’s got lipstick on and those sexy high-heeled sandals.

  I swallow hard and try to look away as I point to the backyard. “You’re all set. I tested it and everything’s working as it should.”

  “So no more lawn orgasms?”

  I grin. “Nope.” I turn back to the yard. “Sorry, lawn.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s good. Thanks for taking care of it.”

  “No worries. Hey, you look nice.”

  Too nice. I’m imaging her naked with just the heels on, my hands running up her inner thighs as I part them. I take a deep breath. I need to get out of here before I lose it completely.

  She smiles. “I’m meeting that Tinder guy, Scott.”

  “At the wine bar?”

  She nods and twists her bracelet around her wrist.

  My brows knit together. “Are you sure?”

  “You jealous?” She winks at me.

  I know she’s teasing but it’s a hit in the gut when I realize I am. However, I’ll never admit it. Jealously has never been my thing. I just move on.

  “No. He just better treat you right.”

  “I’ll make sure he does,” she says with what feels like a false bravado. “Besides, it’s just a meet-up tonight.”

  “You’ve got my number. Call me . . . you know, if you need anything.”

  She leans on the door jam and studies me in the most unnerving way. “Thanks, Paul. I will.”

  The next morning I pick up my phone three times and set it back down. I glance at my watch and the roll of blueprints next to me. Screw it all. I open the contact list on my phone and rub my finger over her name.

  She sounds a little worse for wear when she picks up.

  “So how’d it go last night?”

  “Paul Junior? Is that you?”

  “You can drop the junior now, you know.”

  “What if I don’t want to? It sounds so . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Are you high?”

  “Nah. Maybe a little hungover. Or maybe a lot. There’s a lot of wine to drink at the wine bar.”

  I grip my phone tighter. I don’t like that she drank that much with a dude she didn’t know.

  “So how was the guy? Was he what you expected?”

  She sighs. “Even better. The man has unbelievable swag. You should have heard him and his sexy talk. All the things he wanted to do to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh my. Yes, really. And he licked my fingers. Sucked on them actually.”

  “He what the fucking what?”

  “Oh, I know it sounds weird but it was so hot. My fingers in his mouth as he gave me that smoldering look . . . damn I was so wet. As a matter of fact I think I still am.”

  I take a sharp breath as I imagine Elle wet. My cock comes to life in record time. I desperately try to refocus on the conversation.

  “I’m sorry but I’m trying to picture his fingers in your mouth and how that can be hot. The dude sounds freaky if you ask me.”

  She giggles. “He told me he wanted to taste my pussy . . . over and over.”

  I hold the phone away for a second to compose myself. “In the wine bar?”

  “I think he meant at my place.”

  “Sounds like a winning evening.”

  “Well, I’m seeing him again tonight.”

  “I guess it doesn’t take a lot to impress you,” I say as my grip tightens on the phone.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you know him well enough to have him at your place.”

  “I may be new to this hook-up thing, but I’m not a dim-wit. You don’t have to worry—I’m going to his condo. He lives in those fancy new high rises downtown. He’s so sophisticated, Paul.”

  Really? The finger-sucker is sophisticated? He sounds like a douchebag. I remember the call I got back in the day from the health department. “Promise me you’ll use condoms.”

  “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she teases.

  “Promise? Take some in your purse.”

  “I promise.”

  When we hang up I have to take a long shower despite being late for my meeting. The entire time the water rains down on me I’m jerking off thinking about tasting Elle’s pussy. I’m so screwed.

  “Paul, I’m just checking in because this is the second meeting in a row you’ve missed.”

  “Yeah, sorry Jim . . . it’s just been a really busy week at work.”

  Liar.

  “Have you talked to that woman you told me about?” I pause fighting with myself as to how to answer. “Have you slept with her Paul?”

  “No.” At least I can say that.

  “Do you want to?”

  “Every motherfucking minute of every day.”

  Jim lets out a long sigh.

  “This is your test . . . your big test. We all have to face them. You need to stay away from her.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t give me lip service Paul. I mean it.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Remember how you told me how worthless it made you feel when you were out of control? Is it worth it to get that low again?”

  I think about Elle’s ass with my hands gripping it and I’m at a loss for words.

  “It’s not worth it Paul. You’ve said it before, and you made a promise to God and yourself. You want to find a good woman to marry and have kids. You don’t want to be getting blow jobs in dive bar bathrooms.”

  My cock twitches as I picture Elle on her knees. “I don’t?”

  “You don’t, Paul. You’ve
told me again and again, you want what your parents have. You aren’t going to find it with a girl like her.”

  “She’s not what you think.”

  “Paul, you need to be at tonight’s meeting or I’m going to have to reconsider being your sponsor. Do you understand how important this is?”

  I close my eyes tightly and try to remember my oath. “Yes. I’ll be there tonight.”

  The SA meeting that night gets me back on track. I even get my ass up in front of the group to confess how meeting Elle had gotten me off track.

  “Off track? Is that a euphemism for admitting that you’re screwing her?” asks George the perv, who gets off on women mud wrestling.

  “I’m not screwing her,” I reply.

  “But you want to,” Austin says with a nod of understanding. He’s the youngest in our group. He’s still in college and I’m pretty sure before he joined our group his college major was screwing anything that stood still long enough.

  “So damn badly,” I say.

  “Are you jerking off a lot?” Austin asks.

  I lower my head so I don’t have eye contact with Jim when I nod. “Yeah.”

  Jim clears his throat. “What did we talk about, Paul.”

  “That jerking off all the time only fires up the obsession and that I should avoid thinking about her if at all possible.”

  Jim nods. “Unless this is a girl you want to date as a possible future life partner, and you certainly haven’t made her sound like a viable prospect, you need to step away.”

  “He’s right,” George states. “Pardon the pun, but it only gets harder the longer it goes on. You remember how messed up I got over that mud-wrestling stripper I thought I wanted to marry.”

  Comparing Elle to George’s stripper is just wrong, but I know these guys have my best interest at heart. Besides as beautiful and fun as Elle is, I don’t see a dirty mouthed divorcee looking for hook-ups on Tinder as the mother of my future children. My mom definitely raised me with an old-fashioned attitude about marriage.

  I have a moment of clarity and decide I’m going to talk to my father when I’m over for our next family dinner about not handling her yard issues anymore.