Authors: Villette Snowe
Her mouth opened a little.
I stood by the bed and unzipped my pants. She watched as I dropped the rest of my clothes on the floor, or rather, she stared. I doubted she was a virgin, but I guessed I was the best-built man she’d seen up close.
I lifted the sheet just enough to slide under with her. Women who hid under the sheet were usually uncomfortable with their bodies. It was easier for them if I didn’t try to force them to show themselves.
She rested back on the pillow as I moved her legs to the sides and lay with her.
“How long do we have?” I said.
She was breathing heavily, as if we’d already started. “Um…” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Two hours.”
I pressed my lips to hers and slid my tongue into her mouth. The nervous ones had an easier time letting go if I took control, guided them. When her hands started travelling across my shoulders and down to my ass, I knew I had her.
We spent the entire two hours together. After her final orgasm, she lay back. I had to figure how to keep her awake, but I didn’t want her to feel like she was getting kicked out. My goal was to make them feel desired, not like my job—even though they were. I slid back from her and took her hand to help her sit up. Standing in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed, I kissed her once more.
“Thank you,” I said and then crossed the room toward the bathroom. Before I turned on the shower, I listened for her to leave.
The shop would be closing soon, and Penny and I usually had dinner together on Friday nights. It used to be our time to catch up, just talk. Anymore we just went over the books. She continued to raise the rates. Money poured in.
But I never spent any of it.
I stood under the shower and absorbed the heat. I’d thought about Cassie during sex. I thought I was done with that. The fucking bitch. Sometimes I hated her. Perhaps that was why I couldn’t let her go.
What really pissed me off was that I
couldn’t
hate her. Part of me still mourned her, even after seven years.
I still dreamed about her. Sometimes it was about the sex, sometimes it was the friendship, and sometimes it was that day, the day she betrayed me, the day she died.
Chapter 3
Penny
I talked Penny into ordering in, and we ate at the front counter.
“You ran over again,” she said.
I started bagging up the trash from dinner.
“Don’t ignore me,” she said. She brushed her dark hair back off her face. That was when I knew she was really pissed, when her own hair seemed to annoy her. I wondered why she kept it that length, long enough to get in the way and too short to go into a ponytail.
“Are you going to tell me how to fuck now?” I said.
Her lip curled in disgust.
“If you don’t want to hear about it,” I said, “then stop bitching.”
She opened her mouth, obviously about to bitch some more.
“I’m sure you heard her through the wall,” I said. “Did she leave happy?”
She looked away.
“I’m not a damn kid anymore,” I said. “I’m thirty years old, and I’m fucking good in bed.” I turned her head back to me. “Don’t pretend you’re not making money off that fact.”
“Dickhead.”
I let go of her. “All right, I won’t make you hear about it. Just stop giving me so much shit.”
She barely looked at me as she showed me the numbers. Then she left. She needed to learn the twelve-year difference between us didn’t matter at our ages. I wasn’t a fucked-up kid anymore.
I was a fucked-up adult.
And come to think of it, I wasn’t screwed up as a kid, even after all the foster homes. I remembered being pretty happy.
After she left, I made sure all the doors were locked and went back to my room. The landlord would have a fit if he knew I was living here. As far as he was concerned, I was “in charge of inventory.” He’d be even more pissed if he found out his wife came to see me sometimes.
I turned on a lamp and kneeled on the floor to pull a notebook out from under the bed. I wasn’t sure exactly why I hid the notebooks from Penny. Perhaps it was just too personal. I’d picked up a pen again simply to document my trysts. Over time, it’d moved onto other things. I still wrote about the women sometimes, but I also wrote stories and observations, like I used to when I was younger, when I was with Cassie. I didn’t sell them anymore.
Today I wrote some notes about Elizabeth. She worried me. I didn’t know why she was hesitant to talk, why she was stressed all the time.
I sighed as I sat back against the bed frame. Why would she talk to me? I was just her goddam gigolo.
I turned to the next page and stared at a blank sheet for a while.
There wasn’t much real life to write about, so I started a new story. The premise was vaguely a young man determined not to become schizophrenic like his mother. If that wasn’t pulling from real life. But actually, I never worried about that—it was Penny who was terrified of turning out like Mom. I wasn’t sure where I’d go with the story, whether he’d succeed and become a successful psychologist, or fail and end up in a psych ward. Maybe he’d think he was a doctor—I’d make the reader believe it, until the very end when I show it was all a delusion and slap the reader in the face with the truth.
Not that anyone else would ever read it.
I escaped into the story for a few hours. Then my eyes started to droop. I made myself get up and replace the notebook to its place under the bed and then grabbed the afghan. I didn’t like sleeping on silk, but the beat-up old afghan was hardly sexy. So, I hid the blanket under the bed and only pulled it out to sleep. My mother had made it while she was in the psych ward. It made me think that maybe she’d been thinking about Penny and me. It was probably just some project they made her do.
In the morning, I woke early. I probably should’ve slept in on the weekends, since business was slower then. All of my customers were off with their families, doing whatever it was rich people did with their weekends.
Still in my jeans and T-shirt, I went down the hall to the employee break room. There was usually something for me to eat—if that idiot Shane hadn’t eaten it yet. Penny bought yellow apples specifically for me, yet they always seemed to be gone before I could get to them. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the back hall.
Sometimes I hated my position here, the way I had to mix with Penny’s employees. I had to be so damn careful. I wondered if they had any idea of what I did, why I was always here and rarely helped out front. Penny made sure no one ever saw money exchange hands. I didn’t trust anyone other than Penny.
She took me in after Cassie died. She pissed me off sometimes, but she’d earned my loyalty.
I closed the refrigerator door. Not dick for food.
I went back to my room, put on my shoes, and walked out the back door in search of something to eat. Most places were closed this early, except maybe some of the fast food restaurants. We needed a twenty-four-hour Walmart within walking distance. I had to walk to everything. I couldn’t very well have a car parked out back at all hours.
By the time I returned, Penny was there. I’d figured she would be and stopped to get her a coffee from Starbucks. For me, McDonald’s coffee was fine. I walked in the front so I’d look like I’d just arrived, and so I could hand Penny her coffee as I walked through the shop.
Of course, Shane the dick was here already. How unusual that he was early. Penny was talking with him by one of the glass displays in the middle of the shop. I figured I’d leave her coffee on the counter and then disappear into the back.
Then his tone caught my attention.
“I know what’s going on,” he said as he nodded in my direction, “with your brother.”
“With my brother?” Penny said it mockingly. She was good at covering shit up, lots of practice.
I knew he couldn’t prove anything—my clients weren’t about to talk. I stayed in the room anyway to hear him out, to make sure Penny was all right.
She glanced back at me, reminding me she hated when people didn’t let her handle things.
I shrugged, left her coffee on the counter, and walked into the back hall.
But I stayed by the door and listened just in case.
“I know he lives here,” Shane said.
I smirked. He was threatening her with
that
knowledge?
“First, why would my brother live here?” Penny said. “And why on Earth would you care?”
“That landlord’s a stickler.”
“And?”
“He wouldn’t like it if—”
“I have a lease for this space. It’s none of his business what I do with it.”
Damn, she was a good liar.
A long pause.
“You’re fired, Shane.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re trying to threaten your boss. What did you think was going to happen?”
“Bitch.”
Footsteps and glass breaking.
“Heath,” Penny called.
I walked out. Shane was in her face, pushing her up against the display. I was across the room in seconds. I grabbed his arm and yanked him away from her, dragging him toward the door.
“Fuck, man,” he said. “I’m so gonna sue you.”
“You assaulted my sister.” I whipped him around and grabbed his shirt. “Do you really think I give a shit what you’re
gonna
do?” I wrapped his shirt around my fists, ready to throw him.
“Heath,” Penny said.
I let go of his shirt and smoothed it. “Get the fuck out.”
He glared as he tugged his shirt back into place. Then he left.
I turned at the sound of crying. Penny was rarely emotional. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her cry.
I pulled her into a hug and held her.
Within a few seconds, she pulled herself together. “I’m all right.”
I didn’t let go. “What’s wrong?” She was one to get pissed about a scene like that, not cry about it.
A long pause. Her breathing evened out.
“Penny.”
She took a breath. “You stood up for me.”
I looked down at her. “Of course.”
“It’s just that, um…I can’t remember anyone ever…”
“I always will,” I said. “I promise.”
She smiled a little. Then she pulled away and bent over to pick up a couple bottles of scented spray that had fallen and broken. At least the display itself looked unharmed, other than being shifted a bit. If he’d broken her new custom shelves, I would’ve had to pull
her
off
him
.
I kneeled next to her. “Be careful. I’ll get a broom.”
She rolled her eyes, back to my same old Penny. My defending her was the closest I’d felt to her in a long time. And I realized what part of our problem was. Our dynamics had changed. I didn’t need taken care of anymore, and she didn’t allow anyone to take care of her. We stood straight on our own, like goal posts. At least one of us had to lean to get closer to the other. She didn’t know how to lean, and I was done leaning.
Chapter 4
The Girl With Auburn Hair
“Crap,” Penny said as she dumped shards into the trash behind the counter. “He was the only one I had scheduled today, and it’s too late to call someone in.”
“I’ll help,” I said.
“Right.” Then she shook her hand and pulled her breath in through her teeth.
I took her hand and gently pulled the shards out. “I told you to be careful.”
“Whatever.” She walked around the counter over to the jumbled display shelf. She shifted it back into place and started arranging the bottles.
“Damn, you’re a stubborn woman,” I said. “Just throw the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window and let me help for today. I only have that one appointment.” Sometimes it struck me as ridiculous that we called them
appointments
.
“But it’s a long one.”
“And not until six o’clock.”
I almost said,
I’m a guy—I’m never too tired to fuck.
“And it’s two,” she added.
That didn’t help her argument. Screwing two women at the same time was double the fun. Sometimes they were friends who wanted the feeling of an orgy in a safe environment, and sometimes they just wanted to split the cost. I didn’t let Penny charge extra for doubles.
I took the “help wanted” sign from behind the counter, hung it in the window, and then grabbed a nicer shirt from my room, a plain white button-down, the one I’d worn to Cassie’s funeral.
A few hours later, I was still helping women buy scented bath oils and lotions—and doing a damn fine job. I knew I was doing exceptionally well when Penny rolled her eyes. I grinned at her tauntingly while I helped the woman I was assisting carry her purchases to the counter. After ringing the woman up, I returned to the sales floor.
“Is this made with natural ingredients?” a woman asked as I passed.
I glanced around to make sure she didn’t have a man with her—good idea before flirting commences. Learned that the hard way.
No men in the shop, except me.
“Honestly,” I said, “I don’t know all the technical stuff.” I moved a little closer. “But I know this scent is amazing on a woman.”
“Is that so?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ll just have to try it, then.” She reached for the matching lotion and body wash.
I didn’t know why so many different products were necessary to…The door opened, and a woman walked in.
All I could do was stare.
Her hair was like the reflection of autumn leaves on a pond. It flowed over her shoulders, and she tucked it behind her ear as she walked. Her neck was creamy white. I wanted to kiss it, to see if it tasted like cream. The freckles across her cheeks and nose made her look like she was smiling, though she wasn’t. I wanted to see where else she was freckled, taste each one, like sprinkles on ice cream. It’d been awhile since I had ice cream.
I saw so many women, beautiful women. They undressed in front of me, slept with me, sighed my name…but none of them made me feel like this, off balance, warm, out of my mind.
She walked right past me—and didn’t look at me. Her scent was something flowery, not rose, maybe gardenia mixed with body chemistry that smelled like home, a home I didn’t know but wanted to.