The Wild Side

by R. K. Lilley

  “Do you mind giving me a ride?”

  I took a few deep, steadying breaths, wondering what to do.

  Of course I needed to give her a ride. If the poor girl needed to walk somewhere, she could hardly do it dressed like that. She’d get abducted, for sure.

  I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t abduct her myself.

  “Sure, honey. Where you need to go?”

  She pointed at my car, her eyes widening. “Is that your ride? It’s brilliant. Wow. A Tesla. Just beautiful.”

  I smiled, impressed that she knew what it was, and waved her on.

  I loved my car, and I got a real kick out of her excited reaction to it. She was good at making me smile.

  “I’ve never been in one of these before.”

  “I just got this one about eight months ago.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. I’m happy with it.”

  “Whoa. You got the seven seater? You have any kids?”

  I laughed. “No. I have no excuse, other than that the salesman was very good at selling me features.”

  We were inside and belted before I looked at her again. I could smell her in the small space. She smelled so good that it was playing havoc with my peace of mind. Like vanilla and some hint of what could only be her hot little body after a good workout.

  I was shamefully happy that she hadn’t showered after the workout. I had a very clear visual of licking every bit of that salty sweet sweat off her, and since that wouldn’t be happening, I had a smell to obsess over in place of that.

  She reclined her seat until she was lying down flat. Her mouthwatering breasts pointed straight up in that position. “That is so cool. What is that called? The glass ceiling?”

  “An all glass panoramic roof. Like I said, the salesman was very good at selling me features, even ones I didn’t need.”

  I started the car, waiting for her to tell me where to go. When we just sat there for a few minutes, I asked, “So, where can I drop you?”

  She brought her seat back up. “Aren’t you going to invite me back to your place? I want to see your house. And I’d like to try whatever concoction you make yourself drink after your workout.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Iris. You are much too young to be inviting yourself to some man’s house. Especially an old guy like me.”

  “How old are you?” she asked, sounding only vaguely curious about that.

  “Forty. Old. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four, Alasdair. Old enough for any damn thing.”

  I gave her a gimlet-eyed look, sure she was messing with me. “I don’t believe you. Prove it. Show me your ID.”

  She giggled like I’d just said the funniest thing, but she did bend forward to fish around in her bag, retrieving a small pink wallet. “What? You think I’m jailbait?”

  “Something like that.”

  She handed me a Nevada driver’s license. I studied it, did some quick math, then studied it some more. It was real, as far as I could tell, and it did place her at twenty-four. I could hardly believe it.

  “I’m still way too old for you.”

  “Your cock doesn’t agree.” Her tone was so innocent that it took me a moment to process what she’d said.

  I flushed bright red. “My cock doesn’t know what’s good for it.”

  “But I do.” Her voice was whisper soft.

  I put the car in reverse. “You sure about this?”

  “Sure about what? What’s the big deal about sharing a drink and checking out your pad? Going by this car, I know you’re going to blow me away.”

  I nodded tightly and kept my hands at two and ten, my eyes straight ahead.

  I took her home.

  It was insanity, but who the fuck could resist a girl like Iris? Not me.

  Even so, I told myself I’d humor her curiosity and then take her wherever she wanted to go. I had absolutely no business doing more than that. She was legal, thank God, but still far too young. At least for that.

  As though reading my mind, her hand went to my knee, her touch light. “God, that thing is impressive. I swear it has its own pulse. I can see it beating.”

  I nearly went off the road. “Are you talking about…?!”

  “Your cock. You wear those big, thick clothes at the gym. I had no clue you were packing such heat.”

  “Knock it off,” I told her.

  She dissolved into giggles, her hand falling from my knee.

  “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” I asked her with a smile. “You can tell I’m harmless, so you’re putting me on.”

  Her hand touched the back of my neck, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. She rubbed hard at my nape, and my eyes began to close with the pleasure.

  I fought to pay attention to the road.

  “I like you, Alasdair. Can’t you tell?”

  I didn’t have a good answer for that. My ex-wife had done a number on me. Married twenty years to the woman, doing everything I could think of to make her happy, and she’d hated my guts. I couldn’t have been particularly likable.

  Iris was friendly and talkative enough, but I noticed that she was not the sort to talk about herself, and I found myself talking too much, which was not at all like me.

  “I live alone in a very big house. It’s a waste really. I should look for something smaller. I was married when I had it built. I didn’t intend to be alone when I designed the thing.”

  “So you’re divorced?”

  “Yes. About a year now.”

  “And you were married just the one time?”

  I exaggerated a wince, shooting her a sheepish smile. “I must seem so old to you, huh? But yeah, just the one time. For twenty years.”

  She whistled. “Twenty years? What happened?”

  I just shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it without sounding bitter, and I didn’t want to come across that way. Not to her.

  “And you’re not old, Alasdair. You’re distinguished.”

  That surprised a laugh out of me. “Oh, that’s rich. Yes, I’m apparently very distinguished, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.”

  “Only if you had me when you were sixteen. Do you have any kids?”

  “No. I always thought I would, but time just slipped away. I’m too old now, I think. I like kids, though.”

  “You’re not too old. That’s ridiculous. Look at your hard-on. That thing looks like it wants to make babies right now.”

  I sent her a censuring look and tried to make it convincing.

  She just gave me an irrepressible smile.

  We got to the gates of my community. I waved to the security guard, and he nodded back, letting me in. I saw him shoot Iris one quick glance, his expression indecipherable, as we went by.

  “Oh, I bet we just started some good rumors. ‘Alasdair’s brought home a young, scantily clad girl again.’”

  I shifted uncomfortably, but couldn’t stifle my urge to correct her. “Not again. I don’t do this sort of thing. Not ever.”

  “Not ever? And what sort of thing are we calling this now, Dair? I’m dying to know.”

  “Bring women home. Especially very young women. I’ve never done this.”

  She beamed at me for that one. “I like you. You make me feel good.”

  I could say the same for her, but I didn’t. I was being enough of a beast already, bringing her home.

  She whistled long and low when I pulled into my U shaped driveway.

  I parked directly at the front door, the car ready to take her on the return trip. Still just humoring her.

  I kicked my shoes off in the entryway, tossing my gym bag down.

  She copied me, tossing her own bag on top of mine.

  “You can use my shower,” I told her, my eyes all over her naked skin.

  “You’re a doll. I’ll do that. God, you’re tall.”

  She moved to stand right in front of me, her hand up as though to measure.

/>   I was over the six-foot mark, and she was just the right height to tuck her little blonde head under my chin.

  I shook off that ridiculous image.

  At her insistence, I gave her the grand tour of my oversized house. I hadn’t taken pride in it in a long time. It had turned into a rather large tomb for the bad memories from the last years of my marriage. But oddly, I found myself taking that pride again as I showed it to her. I had designed it, top to bottom, and I really did love the house.

  It was a modern monstrosity at eight thousand square feet, but I liked my space. Probably because I liked to spend ninety percent of my time in it.

  She took particular delight in my large library, running her hands along the spines of the books in the classics section.

  “I could spend a year in here,” she told me.

  That had my brows raising. I’d gotten the impression she was more of a wild party girl than a reader. “You like to read?”

  Her nose wrinkled like she thought that was the oddest question. “Um, yeah. Who doesn’t like to read?”

  Good point. I mean, there were people that didn’t like to read. Logically, I understood that, but it had always baffled me anyway.

  I meant to pick her brain about that more, but she was off again, and I was following, my eyes glued to her perfect little ass as I showed her the rest of the house.

  CHAPTER THREE

  She acted very impressed that I’d designed the place. She had a lot of questions, curious about every inch of the property and how it pertained to me.

  It seemed to me that she was always trying to connect pieces of a puzzle.

  One thing I noticed right away was that I never had to dumb my explanations down for her, which was something that stood out to me, because the dumbing down was such a common occurrence for me, that I wouldn’t have taken a note of it if I’d been doing the opposite. She understood my references, big and small picture. It was astounding, the more I thought about it, because she was just so young.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” I asked her.

  Her eyes twinkled at me. It was too adorable and highly dangerous. “What, you don’t think I’m reaching my full potential?”

  I tried to backtrack. I had a tendency to put my foot in my mouth. Socially awkward was really a kind way to describe me. “I-I didn’t say that, I’m just…”

  She took pity on me, waving it off with a laugh, and we went on with the tour.

  I had several guest rooms, but I showed her to the biggest one, with the nicest bathroom.

  “You can use this one while I make us that kale drink.”

  She shook her head.

  I blinked at her.

  “I’ll use the shower connected to your bedroom.”

  “This one is just as nice. I made sure at least one of the guest suites was built like a master.”

  “Which one do you use?”

  “The master.”

  “I’ll use that one. No need to dirty this one up just for me.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  “I think I can remember the way. I’ll be down in a sec.”

  I watched her walk away, having to restrain myself from following her.

  What would she do if I got in the shower with her?

  Would she let me fuck her?

  I got the distinct feeling that she would, but somehow I made myself walk away.

  I had half the ingredients out of the fridge for my shake when I remembered her bag.

  I nearly ran as I grabbed it and brought it up to her. The shower was running, I could hear it from the bedroom, and like a pervert, I just opened the door.

  The shower was too steamy to make out her figure, thank God, but my eye was caught by a tiny scrap of neon yellow cloth as I set her duffle on the counter.

  I picked it up gingerly with two fingers. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the tiniest thong I’d ever seen in my life, made up of just a few stretchy strings and an itty-bitty piece of mesh.

  I dropped it like it was on fire and backed out of the room, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  I shut the door very quietly behind me.

  I was nearly back to the kitchen when I veered off into the half bath that connected to the living room.

  Her borrowed towel was still on my shoulder, and I buried my face in it.

  I licked my palm, yanked my shorts down, and started jerking hard on my cock.

  I needed to get a handle on this.

  I didn’t even think about her body. That was overkill. My mind stayed firmly on that tiny yellow scrap of cloth as I groaned and shot my load into the bathroom sink.

  I washed up.

  I was still panting as I opened the door.

  Iris stood there, dressed in another pair of her tiny Lycra shorts, these ones a pale peach color that emphasized her tan, and a white sports bra (the front zipper halfway down).

  Of course she was smiling.

  She touched the twice-used towel on my shoulder. “Maybe I want to keep this thing. Does it smell like you now?”

  I shook my head, then moved past her, heading resolutely to familiar ground.

  She sat on the counter while I worked, right smack in the middle of everything, so I had to constantly move by her. She was perched back on her hands, her thighs spread just wide enough to make my brain stop functioning completely.

  “So what do you do for a living to afford this place?”

  “I write books. Mostly crime dramas.”

  “Wait, what’s your last name?”

  I sighed. She’d likely heard of me. I had a fairly popular series that had gotten a lot of attention, and some big screen love, over the last decade. “Masters.”

  “Alasdair Masters. I’ve heard of you. How did I never hear that you were smoking hot, Alasdair?”

  I gave her a rueful smile. “You’re buttering me up. Why?”

  She winked at me. “Not at all. I call ‘em like I see ‘em. So do you use your real name as your pen name, or are you giving me a fake name?”

  “That is actually my name. Not smart, I know, but I got into the business before I knew better. I graduated college when I was eighteen, and started writing books a few years before that, and I was too egotistical as a kid to use a fake name.”

  “A prodigy.”

  “Not quite. Just a few years ahead. And my father worked in the business, so I had some very helpful connections.”

  “And you’re humble, to boot. Tell me what happened between you and your ex-wife. How did it all go south after twenty years?”

  “You really want me to talk about this? I was in such a good mood.”

  “Were you? What put you in such a good mood?” I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Does that good mood have something to do with all the grunting and slapping noises I heard you making in the bathroom earlier?”

  I couldn’t touch that one, couldn’t respond to it. I ignored it (though I could feel the hot blush on my cheeks) like she’d never said it.

  It was too much for me, otherwise.

  “Well, to be honest, I suppose there were always troubles. I just didn’t understand them or even see them. I tried to be a good husband, as I understood it, tried to make her happy. One day I came home to find her on her knees, giving some man I’d never seen before a blow job, in my entryway. Everything went real south after that.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t help that she hadn’t given me a bj for, hell, I don’t know, years. It was a hard thing to see. I could have used a blow job, or fuck, a smile, and there she was, deep throating some stranger.”

  “That’s terrible. She sounds just awful.”

  “Well, I guess it was love, because I hear she’s marrying the guy, who is way younger than her, by the way. Apparently, I was just the husband that was holding her back. Of course, she took every penny she could in the divorce, so at least she doesn’t mind my money.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Never even thou
ght of a pre-nup. I was twenty and assumed I was getting married forever.”

  “How old was she when you got married?”

  “Twenty-three. Which was the last time I dated someone your age. But enough about me, let’s talk about you. Are you in college?” I’d already surmised that she wasn’t, but I was trying my best to be polite.

  “Nope.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “Here and there. I was working as a cigarette girl at a casino, but it was a temporary gig. Now I’m in between. I got a job offer at Hooters that I’m considering.”

  I shot a glance at her chest. “They’d eat you up, wouldn’t they?”

  She giggled. “What about you, Dair? Would you eat me up?”

  I nearly cut my fingers off.

  I took a moment to compose myself as I shoved the kale, carrots, white tea, cucumber, strawberries, ginger, and spinach into my Vitamix, filling it to the top. I blended it until it was smooth liquid.

  I poured two glasses, sliding one to her. I took my own to the table in the breakfast nook.

  She joined me, taking a long drink. “Not bad. Not good, but it obviously works. Keeps you fit enough, eh?”

  I drank mine in a few big chugs.

  She finished hers slowly. I knew she was teasing me when she licked the rim of her empty cup.

  The girl got a kick out of driving me wild.

  She rolled the empty glass between her exposed cleavage, giving me very solid eye contact. “What now?”

  I took a few deep, steadying breaths. “I can take you wherever you want. Just say the word.”

  She beamed. “Let’s watch some TV.”

  I was incapable of telling her no, and she insisted on the theatre room, but she wanted to watch cable. Bad cable.

  She sat on the bench seat, and I sat a safe two feet away from her. She picked something god-awful to watch, some reality show about Gypsies living in the states.

  It didn’t matter. I couldn’t have paid attention to that screen if my life had depended on it just then.

  She kept inching closer to me.

  She laughed at something on the show, then said, “Can you turn the lights up? How bright can you make it in here?”

  I showed her.

  “Can we watch this in your bedroom?” she asked, and I could feel her looking at me.