Lucky Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by L. A. Boruff

  I studied hard and worked even harder in the male-dominated industry and got my Bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering with a minor in robotic design. Without taking any time for myself, I jumped right into getting my Master’s degree in computer science and electrical engineering. After a number of tireless years filled with long days in school, and drawn-out nights working on projects, I finally achieved my dream when Robo Tech approached me with a job offer. I’ve been working for Robo Tech a little over a year now, and while the days are long, and the results of my projects don’t always pan out, I couldn’t be happier with where my life is.

  Especially not when I have a boyfriend at home waiting for me.

  Scott and I have been seeing each other for a few months now, and while I originally thought we were moving a bit fast when he wanted to exchange keys, I definitely see the convenience of it. My apartment in Brooklyn is nowhere near Robo Tech’s warehouse in Queens, so most nights I end up crashing at Scott’s place, who only lives a few blocks away.

  I finish my trek to the fourth floor and dig my keys out of my jacket pocket, my mind on the case of Guinness Scott brought home last night. Unlocking the door, I take a step inside when a weird noise catches my attention. The small living room is as it was when I left this morning, black couch against to the back, flat screen mounted on the wall by the door, coffee table littered with unopened mail and magazines.

  Closing the door behind me, I walk further inside, chalking it up to my imagination, when I hear the sound again. Kind of like a dying alley cat. A soft grunt follows the death wail and the skin between my brows furrow.

  What the hell is that?

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket, and open the app I created and installed on both mine and Scott’s phones after installing the cameras in his apartment. The neighborhood he lives in isn’t exactly dangerous, but when you learn your girlfriend works in computer technology, you use it to your advantage. I didn’t feel any type of way about him asking me to install them since I’d already done so for a few friends and my dad. Keeping the people around me safe is important to me, and I have no problem doing all I can to ensure that.

  Navigating to Scott’s tab on the app, I open the camera in the bathroom, scroll through the rest of the cameras in the apartment and stop in shock at the sight in the bedroom. Scott has a woman laid out on his bed, hands around her ankles with her legs in the air as he thrusts into her.

  My throat tightens as my eyes narrow, and I press the record button in the top right corner. I lower myself onto the couch and watch as my boyfriend fucks another woman in the bed we’ve shared.

  Her bleached blond hair is splayed over the dark blue comforter as she twists her head from side to side. A major exaggeration if he’s fucking her anything like how he’s fucked me. His dick’s a decent size, I suppose. A bit long with a slight downward curve at the end. It was uncomfortable the first few times, but you get used to it.

  Large breasts bounce in time to each of his hard thrusts. My hand covers my mouth to stop the shriek of horror as he pulls out of her, revealing he went in raw. But he’s not done with her yet. He slaps her thigh and tells her to flip over.

  She gets on her knees, not even trying to hold herself up with her arms as her chest meets the bed. Her hands grip the comforter in tight fists as he slams back into her from behind. It’s like a bad porno as she doesn’t even try to stop her moans of pleasure now. Every cry from her mouth is an ice pick to my heart.

  No, not my heart. My skull. I don’t love Scott. I’m not in love with him. But he was a good enough lay, and I thought he was a decent human being. I thought we were happy. I felt like, eventually, I could grow to love him. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. But this shit? This tops the fucking cake. Nevermind the fact he’s now more vocal than the blond.

  His groans are loud and obnoxiously fake. He’s pounding into her while looking around the room for something better to do. Which I completely don’t get! If you’re going to cheat on me with some skank, why not make sure the lay is worth it? This bitch is just lazy. Just laying there taking it. She’s not participating, not throwing it back, nothing.

  So what was the fucking point?

  At one point, he even rolls his eyes at her awful moaning. Which surprisingly, makes me feel slightly better. You fuck up and cheat on me, and the bitch is bad in bed! That’s the greatest karmic justice ever!

  After a few more thrusts, he reaches around and starts to play with her clit. I cross my legs as I start to feel uncomfortably horny. I shouldn’t be getting off on watching my boyfriend fuck another chick. Maybe my dad was right when he said I was a guy’s girl.

  I like beer and hard alcohol more than wine and fruity cocktails. I prefer comfortable clothing as opposed to short skirts and tight tops. My makeup is always minimal if I put any on at all, I rarely get my hair and nails done, and don’t like going out to clubs filled with scantily-clad women and overly-intoxicated men.

  But I’m not a prude. I’m actually very sexually adventurous. One night stands were the norm among my college classmates, and while I couldn’t always indulge, I knew I couldn’t give my all to a relationship. A few one-night stands and a steady friend with benefits kept my sexual appetite sated back then. I’ve even had a threesome.

  If I’m being completely honest, if Scott would’ve just asked for a threesome, I probably would’ve said yes. The girl he’s with isn’t unattractive. Just lazy. I could’ve easily gotten her out of that. I’ve often been told my laid back personality can make people feel very comfortable.

  I don’t get it!

  Did I do something? Am I working too late?

  No, fuck that! I am not going to blame myself for his fuckup. What I will do, is watch the end of this travesty with amusement, and then confront his ass when it’s over. Yup, that’s what I’m going to do.

  My eyes stay glued to the screen as I lower my hand to my lap in a tight fist. He continues to thrust into her until he pulls out suddenly, wrapping his arm around her waist. He pulls her into him so his balls rest on the small globes of her ass as he jerks himself to completion. Eyes closed, bottom lip between his teeth, he strokes himself hard and fast, and surprise, surprise, my name falls from his lips as he comes.

  Oh, Barbie doesn’t like that.

  “Addison?” she screeches. “Who the fuck is Addison?”

  I chuckle quietly as I stop the recording and exit out of the app, putting my phone back in my jacket pocket. I didn’t bother taking it off after I saw that first thrust; I knew I wouldn’t be staying long.

  Scott’s reply is low as I make myself comfortable on the couch, my arms and legs crossed as I lean back. Whatever he says to her, she does not like.

  “Calm down?” she asks. “What the hell do you mean, calm down? You just called me another bitch’s name, and now you expect me to just calm down?”

  Did she just call me a bitch?

  Keeping his response quiet, Scott tries to reason with her, but whatever half-assed excuse he’s giving, Barbie is not buying.

  “No, fuck that, and fuck you. You can not stand there and try to convince me that I didn’t just hear what you said. I’m outta here.”

  She storms out of the short hallway leading to his room seconds later, her hair thrown into a haphazard ponytail, a jean skirt that stops just short of indecent exposure, and a thin tank top under a jean jacket with sweater sleeves. Her steps stop abruptly when she sees me watching her.

  Did she not get the memo that it’s March?

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Sheila, wait,” Scott comes out of the bedroom seconds after her, pulling on a white t-shirt, his boxers already in place. His eyes bulge out of his head when he sees me. “Holy fuck, Addison. I can explain.”

  I turn my eyes back to Barbie Sheila and smile. “Hi, Sheila, I’m Addison. Did you have fun fucking my boyfriend while he imagined it was me?”

  “Shit,” Scott runs a hand through his dark brown hair,
the trim muscles in his arm bunching at the motion. “Addy, it’s not like that. Baby, she’s just a friend.”

  “Save it, Scott, I saw the whole thing.”

  “Fuck,” he curses, dropping his head back.

  Barbie Sheila stands in shocked silence as I look over my now ex-boyfriend. His hazel eyes are what originally drew me into him. I’m a sucker for hazel eyes. We met last November at a Doctor Who themed bar in Brooklyn. He seemed so out of place, I just had to go over and ask if he was lost. Of course, he took that as a come-on when I really wanted to know if he was lost, but we spent the rest of the night talking and then exchanged numbers. He was cute and sweet, and when he took me out to dinner later that week, he paid the bill without complaint. Which, from conversations from my friends was a big deal. I’d grown up being taught if a man asked you out, he’d pay the bill. Same as if I asked a guy out, I’d be paying the bill.

  Things were going so well.

  I stood slowly, uncrossing my arms and leaving myself open. “Why, Scott? I mean really, if she’s your type then why were you even with me?”

  I’m no slouch, but I look nothing like Barbie Sheila. My hair is short, red, and frizzy on most days, I’m thin with little curves, and I barely stand at five foot two. I love these traits since they make me feel closer to the mother I’ll never know, but not the blond bombshell in front of me. My temper is as short and fiery as my hair for all I’ve had to work for, and I can be a handful on the best of days. But dammit, I’m a good person! Most of the time.

  “Addison,” Scott pleads. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “For me to find out?” I interrupt. “You honestly can’t be that dumb, you gave me the key.” A groan escapes him, but I’m on a roll. “I mean seriously, what the hell? Did you just think it might be fun to have another woman in your bed? We’ve had these conversations, you know my history. I would’ve been cool with a threesome.”

  At this point, Barbie Sheila looks interested. Her blue eyes skim my tiny body and almost seems up for it until I continue. “But no, you just had to be selfish. Was she worth it? I mean, yeah she’s hot, but she looked pretty lazy from what I saw.”

  “Hey!” Barbie Sheila pouts indignantly.

  “No offense, babe,” I say to her. “You’re gorgeous. But just laying there and taking it is pretty lazy.”

  “Thank you?” Now she just looks confused. I move my gaze back to Scott who’s looking between us like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

  “You got anything to say for yourself?” I ask him.

  He huffs out a breath and rubs his hands down his face. “Is this really happening right now?” He takes my no-nonsense raised eyebrow as the yes it is. “Babe. Addy. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” I agree. “You were supposed to be good. Not, whatever the hell this is.” I wave my hand indicating the fuckery I’ve found myself in. I start to walk to the door before turning back. “In case it’s not abundantly clear, Scott, we’re done. I’ll be back for my stuff tomorrow.”

  “Wait, Addy—” The slam of the door behind me cuts off the rest of his pathetic excuses and seals the end of our relationship.

  2

  Dominick

  “I’ll never understand what it is about this holiday that makes everybody think they can be Irish.” My best friend and business partner Kelan Morgan grunts as he rounds the bar. His tall frame ducks under the counter to grab the cleaning products, most likely to clean up another spill on the floor.

  “It’s the drinking,” I reply as I pop the top on another beer bottle and hand it to a customer. “Americans love having a reason to drink all day without being judged.”

  He rolls his ice blue eyes as he leaves me behind the bar. “I’m judging.”

  Shaking my head, I take the order of the next customer at the bar.

  Kelan and I have known each other damn near our whole lives. Growing up, my dad had always told me if I loved what I did, I’d never have to work a day in my life. Well, Kelan and I loved to have a good time. And there was no way on Earth we’d have anybody else telling us what to do. Our ultimate goal was to be our own boss, and have a damn good time doing it.

  I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Business Management, and Kelan got his Bachelor’s in Accounting and Bookkeeping. A few years after we graduated, Kelan found this little hole in the wall spot in Red Hook by the bridge and had this crazy idea to turn it into a bar. Three years later and our little hole in the wall bar is one of the most popular spots in Brooklyn. It doesn’t hurt that it’s half a block from the train station either.

  Half an hour into happy hour, a group of girls in green crop tops and tight jeans walk in and take up a table in the back. My little sister slash part time waitress walks up to the bar and sets down her empty tray and notepad. Her dark brown hair that matches mine is pulled up into one of those high ponytail things. The way the guys at the bar are looking at her boobs makes me think her black shirt with the bars logo is too tight. Maybe I should start ordering hers a size larger.

  She crosses her arms on top of the tray and waits until I finish serving the customer in front of me to speak. I raise an eyebrow at her as I wipe my hands on the rag hanging off my belt loop.

  “Either you or Kelan will have to take care of the table that just walked in.” She tells me, not pulling back the attitude of having just lost a big table.

  I open my mouth, ready to tell her that I’ll take it when the bell over the door chimes and another customer comes in. Turning away from my sister, I look down the bar to see a small, fragile-looking girl take a seat at the bar. Curly, red hair surrounds a heart-shaped face with wide light green eyes that lock onto mine.

  “Car Bomb, when you have a minute.”

  My eyes widen as her accent shifts on some of the words to an Irish lilt. Wanting to show off, for some unknown reason, I switch to Gaelic and ask if she speaks the language. Her wide eyes grow impossibly larger as she rears back in shock, a small smile playing on her bow-shaped lips as she replies in a smooth Gaelic tongue that she did.

  “Oy, Casanova!” My sister slaps me on the back, grabbing my attention. “The table in the back?”

  “Kalen’ll take ‘em,” I tell her, my own accent still sticking to my words as I walk over to the newcomer. “I’ve never seen you in here before.” I wait for her response as I pour half a glass of Guinness. Thankfully, she’s sitting right off to the side of the beer tap, so I can make her drink and find out who she is.

  Now that I’m closer, I can see a light smattering of freckles crossing the soft rise of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. The wildness of her red-orange hair makes her green eyes pop—and why the hell am I thinking like this? Man, I need to get laid. Maybe that’ll fix it.

  “That’s because I’ve never been here before,” she responds. I drop the half-glass in front of her and pour the shot of Baileys and whiskey before holding the small glass above her drink.

  “Ready?”

  A determined glint enters her gaze as she says, “Drop it.”

  I release the shot to let it hit the half-glass of beer with a splash. She’s quick to grab the glass, bring it up to her lips, and chug the glass faster than half of my regulars.

  Who the hell is this girl?

  When she’s done, she drops the glass back onto the bar top and expels a world-class belch. Her hand comes up to wipe across her mouth as her eyes roll to the ceiling.

  “God, that felt good.” I rear back in shock at the marvel in front of me. How can someone so tiny and adorable be so— “You got a problem?”

  Shit, I was staring.

  A laugh falls out of me as I shake my head. “No problem at all, sweetheart.”

  “Good.” She nods. “I’ll take a pitcher of Guinness and a pint glass at whatever table you’ll have me. The crawlers’ll be coming through soon, and I wouldn’t want to take up the prime real estate.”

  Having traveled to Ireland several times th
roughout my life, it’s easy to understand the unusual flow of her words. It’s weird that she’s worried about the pub crawlers though. If anything, I thought she’d be one of them. She’s admitted to never having come here before, but she plans on staying. I’ve never met anyone more contradicting.

  “You can stay at the bar if you like,” I offer. “That way your beer is always cold.”

  “Tempting, but I came here to wallow. I can’t really do that with people bustling around me.”

  I rest my arms on the bar and lean forward. “Then why come here at all? Wallowing seems like something much better suited for home, don’t you think?”

  “Can’t go home,” she shakes her head. “That’s the first place he’ll look. And I won’t be held responsible for what happens to him if he does find me.”

  My eyes narrow involuntarily. She’s hiding from somebody? What’s she gotten herself into?

  “Who’s he?”

  “Douchebag ex.”

  “What kind of douchebag?”

  She raises a dark brow and taps the side of her glass twice with a short, blunt nail. “You gonna fill me up while asking for my life story?”

  I laugh. This girl’s got spunk. “I guess I could do that.”

  Taking her empty glass, I put it in the wash rack behind me and grab a clean one to fill her up. Just as I’m dropping it off, a customer down the bar signals he wants to close out his bill. I leave the glass in front of her with a wink. “Duty calls.” She raises her glass in a salute as I head to the other side of the bar.

  I grab the customer’s card and print out his receipt, placing both in the small black book with the bar’s logo and hand it over to him. Another customer grabs my attention to order another drink. It’s ten minutes before I can get back to the mysterious redhead on the other side of the bar. She’s finished the pint I left her with and has opened up her jacket a bit more. There’s a robot on her shirt, with some figures I can’t make out.