by Jamie Knight
Amanda says nothing and looks down at Rex.
“Listen,” I say. “Once again, I really want to apologize for being such a dick to you.”
She says nothing.
The server returns with our drinks.
“Your burgers are coming right up.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Amanda sips her chocolate shake while saying “Mmmmm,” and it’s a turn on even though I know she doesn’t mean it to be. We look across the street, where a school bus full of kids empties out in front of some kind of hippy museum.
“That’s fine,” she says, in response to the apology I’d just issued for the second time.
I say nothing.
I watch the kids entering the museum. Chaperones and teachers make sure they adhere to the buddy system.
“It’s so nice to see kids so eager about learning,” she says.
I look over to see them, but my eyes grow blurry.
“If you mean learning about beatnik poetry, then yeah,” I agree.
“It’s an art museum,” she says.
“Oh. That’s right.”
I had seen the place a hundred times but couldn’t remember.
“Can’t you see the sign out front?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“No, I can.”
“What is it?” she asks and places her glass on the black marble table. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t want to say anything.
“Lincoln,” she says and puts her right hand on top of mine. “Tell me.”
I sigh and look over at the kids again. They’ve disappeared into the museum — that I can tell — but it’s all mostly still a blur.
“My eyesight is bad,” I say.
I look up at her and give her my best sad puppy-dog look, one which I hope rivals Rexie’s.
She looks at me, says nothing, and takes a sip of her shake.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” she says. “It makes sense.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
I down the rest of my drink and look around for the server to order another one. Just then he comes over.
“Hello again, sir,” he says. “Would you like more Coke?”
“You read my mind.”
“Be right back.”
Pete’s Burger Joint definitely has good service – I’ll give them that. I’m beginning to see why Amanda likes this place. There is beauty to simplicity.
I look at her and repeat my question.
“I said, what do you mean?”
“All those blows to your head,” she says. “It makes perfect sense.”
I start to sweat and feel sick to my stomach. Part of it is that I haven’t eaten, but between the knee and now my eyesight?
“Listen,” she says. “It could be that or it could be just age. Eyes wear out as we get older, just like all of our body parts. Why don’t you get it checked out?”
“No,” I say. “I’m sick of fuckin’ doctors.”
“Alright, then, it’s your loss.”
“What’s my loss?” I ask.
“Go get your eyesight checked out, and then you can ask me to dinner.”
“What do you call this?” I ask her.
“Lunch.”
I lean back and smile.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to ask you to dinner as the next step.”
“You don’t have to,” she says. “But if you do….”
The server returns with our burgers.
“Enjoy, guys,” he says, before leaving again.
I bite into my burger, which definitely lives up to its name. It is spicy.
“I’m hungry as hell,” I say to Amanda, as if to change the subject off of my bad eyesight.
Although I want to keep it on the subject of our next date, that’s for sure.
“Good,” she says. “You keep your part of the bargain and you can keep my part as well.”
“So, it’s all on me?” I ask and laugh.
“You’re the stud fighter, after all, aren’t you?” she asks.
“You know it.”
We eat in silence until Amanda says, “Well, I have to finish scarfing this down because I have to start my shift. This is all professional, of course.”
“Of course,” I tell her.
She gets up to leave and I wish I could pull her close to me and kiss her. I’d lay her down on this table and fuck her brains out in front of anyone passing by who might want to see.
I couldn’t do that, of course. There were the kids on the field trip to think about. But in my quick fantasy, I’m ripping off her bra, my hands fumbling with her massive breasts, to get to those little nipples that are hard as hell for me, and standing up just wanting me to nibble on them like I have been this burger that’s almost as hot as she is…
But she seems determined to leave and it’s silly to think there would be sex on our first date. She might not count this as a date but I sure as fuck do. I wonder if she’ll kiss me after our second date. And let me into her panties by the third, so I can turn her around and get a great view of that fine ass of hers.
Rex wakes up, looks at Amanda and gives her a whiny yawn.
“Bye, baby,” she says and pats him on the head, breaking me out of my fantasy. “Take care of your daddy now.”
I laugh and look at Amanda.
“You know he will,” I tell her, although really I want to say, “I’m going to be your daddy before you know it. Or at least, that’s what you’ll be calling me as I slap your ass and call you a bad girl for letting me do whatever the fuck I want to that hot body and sweet little cunt of yours.”
“I hope so,” she says. “You need it.”
She walks off and I stare after that ass and body. She is just so hot I can barely take it.
“We’ve got work to do,” I say to Rex, as he lies back down and closes his eyes.
Yes, Miss Amanda, I say to myself as she turns the corner without looking back.
I will definitely be the one working on you soon.
Chapter 8
Lincoln
A few days later, I show up at Amanda’s condo. I had my eyes checked and she said to come over and that she’d cook for me. I told her I hadn’t had a good, home-cooked meal in a long time. Let’s face it… my mother never cooked a day in her life, especially with the booze flowing.
I knock on the door. I brought flowers and a nice bottle of wine. While this is not supposed to be a real date since she’s not supposed to date her clients, I go all out anyway. Yeah, she’s hot and all but I really like this girl.
Sometimes it’s possible to mix business with pleasure.
And I want to pleasure Amanda until our bodily fluids are so mixed up, we can’t tell whose is whose. I’ll make her cum so much she’ll forget her own name, and mine too, even though I know she’s hooked on me. That’ll be okay, though, because my cock will be so far down her throat while I’m sucking on her hard little clit that she won’t be able to call it out.
She opens the door and I tell myself to be the perfect gentleman, even though I really want to fling her down on the couch and tear her clothes off.
“Hi,” she says. “Come on in.”
I walk in, feeling a little embarrassed suddenly. I can feel my face turn hot and red.
“These are for you,” I say.
I hand her both the flowers and the wine at once.
“Thank you,” she says. “You are so sweet.”
I just look down and clear my throat.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she says. “Dinner is cooking.”
I follow her into the kitchen. It smells great. She’s making a beef stew with all the fixings.
“Sit down,” she says.
I sit at the bar that divides the kitchen and the dining area.
She brings the wine over with two glasses.
“If
you will do the honor,” she says and smiles.
She looks great. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. She looks so different than she does at work. And she looks even sexier, too, even though I didn’t know that was possible.
“So, what did the doctor say?”
“What?” I ask, as I push the corkscrew down and pop the cork out.
“The doctor, you know,” she says.
She looks at me with the mixing spoon in the stew.
“Oh yeah, yeah,” I say.
I sit the cork up to make it look fancy and all, like I’m really sophisticated.
I pour the wine in the two glasses. The guy at the wine section in the grocery store said this is good stuff.
“He said it’s nothing.”
“Oh?”
“Just age, no brain damage.”
“Well, that’s good,” she says.
She lets out a little airy laugh.
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
She comes over and picks up her glass.
“Cheers,” I say.
She says nothing and stares at me as she sips the wine.
“Most pleasant,” she says.
“You think so?”
“You know it.”
I begin to relax a little bit. It feels nice to be here and with her. She starts asking me about where I’m from and why I’m in New York City. I tell her that when I got back from being deployed, I felt like damaged goods and didn’t want to go home and have to answer a lot of questions.
I had been stationed in San Diego, while training with the SEALs and doing some joint task force training. I was no longer needed, due to my injuries, and should have hightailed it home to Texas but didn’t want to, so I let my fighting career take me to New York and Vegas.
Now that I’m not fighting much, I’m mostly in New York, and I let Damien do my finances; he’s always calling me to sign some paperwork and agree to do some trades. He says it’s important to be in the center of the financial world, whatever that means. I think he just likes that his friend is close to him – and the feeling is mutual.
Plus, there are MMA training gyms here with top notch coaches. There was nothing like that back home. It seemed to make sense to be here.
“I know what you mean,” she says.
She puts a plate in front of me that is full of bread and cheese, and we start munching.
“This is my favorite cheese,” she says.
“I like it,” I say.
It is good. A classic wine and cheese pairing, to compliment the nice guy and girl pairing as well, if I do say so myself.
“So where are you from originally?” she asks.
She goes back to the pot and lifts the lid, giving me a chance to check out that nice ass of hers again. The steam roils up. And it’s not just the food that’s making the kitchen hot. She’s so sexy I just want to fuck her little pussy until she’s moaning and calling out my name so loud.
“Where am I from?” The question catches me off guard. “Oh, from Texas.”
“Really?” she asks. “Where?”
“From Odessa, but you probably have never heard of it.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asks.
She holds her glass out and I refill it.
“No.”
“I’m from Midland!”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
“No, we’re practically neighbors.”
This is all starting to get a bit too real. I down another glass quickly and repour.
“You don’t seem like you’re from Texas,” I say.
I don’t really mean that, but I just don’t know what to say. I feel as if she suddenly knows all my secrets, and that I’ve been lying the whole time. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a funny feeling and my guard has gone up.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“You suddenly seem quiet.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Is it because we’re neighbors?” she asks.
“No, not at all.”
She says nothing and takes out two bowls to serve the stew.
“Anyway,” she says. “Let’s eat.”
I move over to the table in the dining area while she serves the food.
We eat and I regain my sense of composure. She’s telling me about how she ended up in New York from Midland, which had to do with school and work. She went to Brooklyn College for nursing.
“I’m really close to my family and I miss them a lot.”
“Mmmm,” I say, wiping my mouth with the napkin.
“In fact,” she says. “As luck would have it, I’m going to visit next month. For Christmas and then staying through New Year’s.”
“You are?” I take a sip of water.
“Why don’t you join me?” she asks and leans toward me.
I choke on the water.
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t,” I say.
“Don’t you want to see your family?” she asks.
She stands and clears the table.
“No.”
“Oh, OK,” she says. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“That’s fine.”
I really don’t know what to make of her invitation. We just met each other and she is my physical therapist and she’s saying we can’t date because she’s a professional but then she’s inviting me to Texas with her?
I want to go wherever she wants to go – to bang her brains out and to just be near her and look at her, to follow her around like a puppy dog, like Rex follows me around. Anywhere, that is, except home to Texas.
That’s not something I’ve ever wanted to do. I’ve avoided it for this long and I don’t think I can go even if it’s for some tail I’m chasing.
It may be the hottest tail I’ve ever met, which makes me feel like a dog in heat. But still. Texas? No way.
We move over to the couch in the living room. We’re sitting close together.
“While I’m gone, you’ll be working with the new therapist, Troy.”
“Who?” I ask.
Great. Just when I’m getting used to the physical therapist I didn’t want but was assigned anyway – and not just because I want to rub her clit and eat her pussy hole until she’s screaming my name in pleasure, but also because I think Anne was right that she’s a pretty damn good therapist – I have to have another one, at least for a while.
I don’t know which fate is worse. This or Texas.
“Troy,” she says.
“Troy,” I repeat. “He sounds like a douchebag.”
“No, he’s very nice.”
She gets up and closes the curtains.
Then I think, why the hell not? I haven’t seen my mom in so long. I should really see if she’s still alive and hasn’t drunk herself to death. Or worse. I would hate it if she had OD’d.
But I tell myself it’s just the wine talking. And my raging boner.
I shouldn’t think with that head. I’d better get out of here.
“Well, I gotta get going,” I say and stand to leave.
“Sure,” she says. She accompanies me to the front door. “Thank you so much for dinner.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She puts her hand out and I shake it.
“See ya,” I say.
“Bye, Lincoln.”
I start out the door and then turn to her.
“OK, I’ll seriously think about doing it.”
She furrows her brow. “Doing what?”
“Going to Texas with you.”
“Oh, Lincoln,” she says and places her hand on my shoulder.
I look at her hand on my shoulder and she removes it.
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I will,” I say.
“OK, we’ll talk about it.”
I nod and turn to leave.
“Good night,” she says and clicks the door shut behind me.
If going to Texas means being with Amanda, then I really will think about trying to do it.
I just hope I don’t end up regretting it.
Chapter 9
Amanda
I don’t know why I asked Lincoln to come with me to visit my family. It just felt right at the moment, but I guess now I’m having my doubts.
I start to clean up when Margie, my roommate, comes home. She’s as flustered as ever and breezes in with her characteristic irritation.
“How was your day?” I ask, knowing full well what kind of answer I’m going to get.
“Horrific as usual,” she says and plops down on the couch.
She takes out her phone and checks it.
“You really need to mellow a bit, my love,” I say to her.
“Tell me about it.”
Margie is a woman in a man’s world. She’s kind of an antique: while many women have gone all out on femininity these days, she’s kind of stuck in the 1980s, and I don’t mean just the songs she likes. She dresses in mannish suits, wraps up her hair in a bun, and wears severe glasses and no makeup because she thinks that’s what she has to do.
Of course, the firm she works for, Ambler & Wharton, is still so old school, even for the twenty-first century, but I tell her that that’s no excuse. She dismisses me with her comments about my being too much of a girly girl, but I think that’s why Lincoln likes me.
Lincoln, always in my head. I can’t get him out of my mind.
But I love Margie. She’s my best friend and the first person I met upon relocation. I want to talk to her about Lincoln but she’s tired.
I retreat to the kitchen.
“Something smells awfully good,” she says.
I start to reheat the beef stew, put some bread and cheese on a plate, pour a glass of wine and take it out to the living room.
“Here, love,” I say.
She looks up at me and smiles.
“Sorry for being such a bitch,” she says.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am,” she says.
She throws her phone to the side, takes off her glasses, lets down her hair and kicks her shoes off.
“This really tastes so good,” she says, as she eats the bread and cheese. She looks up at me. “Thank you for being so kind to me.”
She strokes my arm with her hand.
“I’ll have some nice stew for you in a moment.”
