by Mackenzy Fox
It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.
It feels like an eternity until the two of them emerge out of the changing rooms cackling. I look at the dresses Morgan has folded over her arm and wish I could have seen them on her. Although I hate shopping, I love seeing a woman in a short, tight dress, especially with legs like Morgan has. I did notice, I’m a guy after all. She should go with the black one. I hope they go to the ladies underwear department and maybe this job might perk up a bit.
That’s something I can definitely get into. Sadly, they don’t and after Morgan pays the girl an eye-watering amount of money, they go off to look at shoes.
Fuck my life.
As if that isn’t bad enough, she has a dinner meeting tonight and I’m intrigued to know if that’s not code word for something else, but when the shopping spree is over and she finishes up at work, we’re pulling up to Flora Bar restaurant on the upper east side and I’m suddenly glad I wore my good suit today.
Morgan’s a machine. She didn’t even go home first to change, instead, she and Marcus go over boring shit in the back of the car while I sit with Marcy and she tells me about her kids’ soccer game.
The restaurant is classy and sleek and not overly busy being a weeknight. I take a seat near the window and the waiter brings me a menu. I order the biggest steak they have since she’s paying and an entrée too because I’m starving. I watch silently as they do their pitch. People come and go but nothing eventful happens except my entrée of stir-fried mushrooms which I devour in about two mouthfuls.
Halfway through the evening, Morgan excuses herself to take a call. Of course, I move to get up to follow her and she shoos me away, rushing outside past the window in front of me quickly. I follow her out but keep my distance. She ducks into the alleyway around the corner as I strain to hear what’s happening.
“No, you can’t… because I said so, you need to stop calling me…” There’s silence for a second, then her voice gets higher. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, Ethan, just accept it’s over, no I don’t care… well, if you want the honest truth, it’s because it was over the minute you stuck your penis in another woman while we were still together, remember that?”
My eyes go wide as I listen intently; she’s getting more and more upset. So, this is the ex-boyfriend. Sounds like a swell guy. She sure knows how to pick them.
I can hear her pacing in her heels just a few meters from where I’m standing.
“Oh, so I thought it was all my fault, now you admit it was yours all along?” she laughs without humor. “Really, that’s a good one… maybe you should have realized that before you tried to ruin my life. I’m just glad I found out when I did, little do you know, I’m over you completely… yes, I do mean it. Anyway, I’ve… I’ve met someone and he’s amazing… What? No you don’t know him but in any case, that’s none of your business, and yes, thank you for asking, he’s fantastic, funny, and unlike you, fucks me like a maniac. NOW STOP CALLING ME!” she bellows the last part loudly.
I don’t know if the other side of town heard that, but as I step into the alley, she crashes right into me and looks up at the intrusion. Her face is red and there’s tears welling in her eyes.
I steer her back into the alleyway by her shoulders and she actually lets me without a fight as I back her up against the wall.
“Jaxon, don’t,” she says, avoiding looking at me.
I go into the top pocket of my jacket and pull out a handkerchief and hand it to her.
“Maybe just take a beat,” I say, releasing her and stepping back.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she snivels, dabbing her eyes with the cloth, she holds it out and then looks up at me. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t drink wine.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Who carries these anymore anyway?” she asks, holding the hanky out to me after dabbing her eyes. I know she doesn’t like me seeing her unglued like this.
“Keep it,” I tell her.
“Do you have to be in the thick of it every second of the day?” she complains.
“Yes, it’s my job in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Console hysterical women often?” I can tell she’s embarrassed by our exchange and is trying to get out of it with some flashy comeback but I’m not buying it.
“Yes, but usually it’s followed by a slap to the face,” I reply.
She shakes her head like I’m unbelievable. Unfortunately, most of the crap I spout is actually true. “Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
I shrug. “Never professed to be a saint, MJ.”
Our eyes meet.
I stand there and assess her and realize that she has a whole lot of bravado going on, she’s tough, sure, but there’s this other side to her, a vulnerable side that I didn’t think existed. Of all people, I should know that people are never what they seem. We all have our crosses to bear. We all have a past.
“I need to get back inside,” she says, steeling herself rather unconvincingly.
“They can wait,” I tell her. “What’s going on, was that your ex?”
She looks up at me with big round eyes. “Obviously.”
“Probably best to block him if you don’t want to speak to him again,” I point out.
“You know, Jaxon, you’re just full of good ideas, why didn’t I think of that?”
I shrug. “The powers of technology are amazing.”
She shakes her head. “I do, then he gets a new number, he won’t accept it’s over, he wants another chance.”
She doesn’t look like the ball buster I’m used to, she just looks like a girl who’s been hurt probably one too many times. I wonder if he’s the reason she doesn’t seem to date anyone.
“What do you want?” I ask.
She looks back up at me. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, MJ.”
She thinks for a second. “You know what? I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that question before.” She sounds sad at the admission.
Huh. That’s kind of fucked up.
“Would you like me to have a word with him?” I ask quite seriously. “He might take the hint after a little talk, man to man.”
She actually laughs even though she’s still visibly upset. “Unless you want to pretend to be my new boyfriend, it’s probably not a good idea.”
“That’s true,” I agree. “Pretend fuck buddy then?” I tilt my head and give her a smile.
She drops her head, embarrassed. This is the second time this week the topic of sex has risen and I know she’s not gotten any in a while, not only did I overhear it first-hand, but I know where she is night after night tucked up in her pretty little apartment, definitely not out and about like most single girls her age. She ain’t giving it away for free.
“He’s old news, I’m so over him.” I know by her tone she means it, but she’s still hurt by him. Something nags inside of me but I beat it down. Don’t get involved.
I tilt her head up by her chin until her eyes meet mine. “He’s obviously a major dick face then, isn’t he? For letting you go.”
She wants to look away but I don’t let her, I want to see the vulnerability, the softness that I’ve not seen before, I want her to know I see it. I want to soak it up and store it for the next time she fights with me.
“As a matter of fact, he is a major dick face.”
I want to tell her that any guy who blatantly cheats on his woman needs his face rearranging; this is exactly why I don’t have a girlfriend, everyone knows what they’re getting and nobody gets hurt.
Relationships are complicated. Women are messy creatures; this is something I know to be true.
I didn’t have any experience with girls until way after college and that was late for a guy. I wasn’t the kind of boy that girls were attracted to back then, even as I started to lose weight. I was still a freak in their eyes. So, I guess now I’m just making up for lost time.
“You don’t need me to tel
l you that you’re better off,” I say because, right now, she deserves to hear something nice, even if she’s been a downright bitch to me all day, dragging me around Macy’s. I let that slide. “But you are.”
She winces a smile. “Thanks, Jax.” She bites her lip for a moment. “I should get back inside.”
“Yeah,” I agree, stepping back further.
“Did my mascara run?” she asks, looking up at me.
I shake my head looking at her pretty face. “Nah, it’s got staying power.” I give her a nod toward our escape and she shrugs off the wall and pulls her jacket over her shoulders around her.
A protective urge runs through me, even though I’m her bodyguard, this feels a little more personal and I don’t know what that’s all about.
If I didn’t know correctly, I’d say she’s almost about to say something else but she doesn’t. We begin to move back to the sidewalk.
“How was your steak?” she asks.
“A little overdone,” I reply truthfully.
I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself. “Fucks me like a maniac?” I whisper as she looks up at me, startled, then to my surprise, she actually laughs, then she nudges me with her shoulder like we’re old pals instead of enemies.
“What were you thinking?” I add, wanting to know the answer, though I know it’s obviously to make him jealous and remember what he’s missing.
“Clearly, I wasn’t thinking,” she says, biting her lip again; she needs to stop doing that. “I just wanted to say the thing that he’d hate the most.”
I smirk as I push the restaurant door open and she goes back to her table and I go back to mine and we both act like nothing ever happened.
I can’t sleep.
I stare up at the ceiling of my ‘new’ apartment wishing I was in my own bed. I long for that and my own home comforts. I’m very much a creature of habit.
The rest of the evening went well and I escorted Morgan to her door just after ten. It’s been a long day.
I get up at four am and decide to go for a run, there is no point staying awake, tossing and turning, I may as well go and do something useful. The city is pretty still at this time of the morning, nobody is up unless they have to be. I run for about forty minutes, then head back upstairs for a hot shower. The water scolds my skin as I soap up my body. I feel like shit.
I don’t mean to think about Morgan while I’m showering, but that’s where my mind wanders, I’m at half-mast to begin with but thinking about her big green eyes looking up at me like she did in the alleyway has me reaching for my dick. I sheath it a couple of times with my fist, my other hand balancing my weight against the tiles. I shouldn’t fantasize about her like this but that doesn’t stop me, she doesn’t have to know, only me and my palm know.
I think about her parted lips, sweet and soft, my dick hardens at the thought of kissing her, of her mouth on me, of her kneeling in front of me. I let out a groan, my hand works faster. I try not to think about her cute ass in her skirt suit and her perky tits in those blouses she wears, and then there’s the reading glasses, fuck me dead. I’m no saint; I shamefully come hard and fast all over the wall as I grunt out something indecipherable and then still my ragged breathing.
This is not good.
I’m jerking off over Morgan James now, this won’t do. I need Sunday to come around like yesterday, my palm ain’t doing it for me and I need to bury myself in a real woman, someone with absolutely no resemblance to her, preferably one without a smart mouth too. I don’t mind a bit of a tousle in the bedroom but I don’t need the claws to come out either.
I wash myself off and glance at the time on my watch as I get out of the shower. It’s just past six am—enough time to whip up an omelet and some decent coffee and prepare for another day with the woman who’s now haunting not just my sleep but also my private shower time too. Maybe now I’ve got that out of my system from my own hand job, I’ll get back to not fantasizing about her and losing my load like a fucking teenager.
Two months, two weeks, and six days to go.
I stare at Morgan’s outfit on Saturday night and do a double-take. She can’t surely be going out looking like that?
I mean, she looks fantastic, the short black micro mini dress has lace and it buttons up the front, it hugs her body like a glove. Being curvy in all the right places definitely helps keep everything where it should be but it doesn’t stop my eyes from wandering all over her. Her rack is enough to make me get down on my knees and pray for mercy.
I crack my neck from side to side and I know that the dress is a clear warning sign for all kinds of bad men to approach her tonight.
The thought has me feeling a little bit annoyed and hot-headed, but I don’t dwell on it, though it only makes my job harder in the long run.
I follow behind Marcy in my car as she drops the girls off at the club in a limo. I can leave my corvette at the club car park if we get a cab home, or if she wants to leave and go home then I can drive her. I hope she goes home alone. Then I wonder if she’s going out tonight to pick up. The thought stirs something in me that I shouldn’t be feeling nor should I care, but here we are.
I’ve always had a crush on her, even when she turned her back on me, I still admired her from a distance. I thought I had let all that shit go; it was easier to hate her but now she’s shown me this other side that I didn’t think she was even capable of feeling—a soft side. She isn’t the same girl that she was back then, of course she’s not because we’re not fourteen any more.
I park my car and meet Chase out the back of the club. We shake hands and he one-arm hugs me, I haven’t seen him in weeks.
“How’s it hanging?” I say as we begin to walk around the corner to the front.
“Better than you by the sounds of it.” He knocks me with his shoulder.
“Funny, fuck face, I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” I mutter.
We approach the VIP entry as Marcy pulls up in the limo.
“Which one is she?” he asks out the side of his mouth as a gaggle of girls spill out excitedly.
“Thought you said you’d be able to pick her out in a line-up?”
“Fuck, who’s the hot chick with the dark hair?” he goes on, ignoring me. “Damn.”
I glance up as Dixie jumps up and down with excitement, her huge knockers bouncing up and down in her bodycon dress. That is certainly a sight to get a man’s attention.
“Best friend,” I mutter. “So, don’t even think about it.”
“Jesus, bet she’s a handful.”
“Two hands full by the looks of it.”
We fist pump like ten-year-old’s and I make my way to the passenger door as they gather on the pavement. Marcy’s holding the door open.
“May the force be with you,” she says with a sympathetic smile as she climbs back in the driver’s seat.
“You have yourself a nice weekend now, Marcy.” I smirk back at her.
She takes off and I turn to face no fewer than six girls.
“Hi, Jaxon,” says Jolie.
“Hey, J. You look very nice.”
She glances down at her sequined dress and smiles. “Thanks, it’s new.”
“Hi, Jaxon, and who do we have here?” Dixie pipes up, looking Chase up and down in a rather obvious sign of interest. I’m starting to wonder if she isn’t a man-eater.
I turn to my best friend. “Ladies, this is Chase.”
They all say hi and seem rather giggly; I think they’ve had champagne in the limo.
Dixie goes one further and holds out her hand to Chase’s, he brings it up to his lips and kisses it very deliberately, looking at her with his come-hither look.
God, give me strength.
“Charmed I’m sure,” he says, giving her the Chase Kaneko crinkly smile with a flash of white teeth. I literally feel her panties drop on contact.
My eyes shift to Morgan and she raises her eyebrows, like I can do anything about it.
What her best friend an
d my best friend get up to ain’t nothing to do with me, but he better not be doing anything on work time, I’ve still got a job to do and I’ll be pissed if he ditches me for a quickie in the bathroom stall. I don’t think Dixie is the quickie kinda gal, unfortunately for Chase, but that doesn’t stop him from taking the lead and herding the girls toward the VIP side entrance, much to the annoyance of the line of waiting patrons outside the main door.
I wait behind and they all file in. Morgan turns to face me.
“Where’d you find him?” she asks quizzically.
I look over her head as I watch him smile and charm every girl that files in the door, handing them each a VIP card for one of our private areas as they pass by him through the door.
I smirk. “Found me in a dumpster, he taught me how to fight.”
I look down at her as her eyes go round.
“Are you shitting me right now?”
“No,” I say in all seriousness. “He’s a badass son of a bitch in martial arts, but he’s got a heart of gold, and as you can see, he adores women.”
“So, he’s a good guy?”
I know she’s worried about her best friend, maybe in case they hook up, which is kind of refreshing, but they just met, he’s like that with all the pretty girls.
“He’s my best friend,” I reply, shaking my head at her question. “Of course he’s a good guy.”
“That’s a relief,” she retorts.
“Why, you looking for a date?” I say quite deliberately, I can’t keep the snark out of my tone.
“Very funny, he just molested my best friend.”
I snort. “Didn’t look like she was complaining.”
“You’re impossible, Jaxon,” she huffs, pushing past me as I cha-grin behind her back. She’s so easy to wind up.
