by JD Hawkins
“How can you watch this trash?” I say.
He turns to me, genuinely a little offended, but unsurprised. “This ain’t trash. It’s entertainment.”
I glance back at the screen to see one woman scowling at another to a soundtrack of melodramatic strings. “What is it?”
“Real Housewives of Dallas,” Colin says.
I study him closely as he forks potatoes into his mouth without taking his eyes from the screen. If this is a joke, he’s playing it more convincingly than the women in the show.
“You’re not joking…”
“I’m not joking,” he says, as he takes advantage of a commercial break to put his plate in the sink. I add mine to the pile and give the dishes a quick rinse as he heads back into the living room and moves to the couch. “I like the show. It’s got drama… Tension… It’s funny… You judging me for it?”
He pats the space next to him on the couch and I go over.
“Kinda. Yeah,” I laugh as I drop myself onto the cushions, snuggling against him. Knees curled up over his legs, his arm around my shoulders, my hand on his abs.
“And here’s me thinking we were starting to get along…”
I slap his chest playfully and pull back to look at his face. “Here’s me thinking you were a man of taste!”
Colin laughs at this and then says, “And what about you? Let me guess, you’re into opera and Shakespeare?”
“I like the classics, yeah,” I say defiantly. “Austen…Tolstoy…Dostoevsky—”
“It’s the same thing!” he announces, and I stare at him in complete surprise. He tousles my hair but I remain stunned.
“It is most definitely not the same thing,” I say, astounded that I even have to say it.
“Sure it is. Jane Austen—bunch of self-involved, privileged women sitting around talking and arguing about how best to navigate the social etiquette and customs of the day. Just like the housewives. Anna Karenina—an examination of society and how different personalities navigate changing trends and the inevitabilities of life. Real Housewives does exactly the same thing, you can learn everything you need to know about how Cali and Dallas differ from it. Crime and Punishment… Well, I’m not going to spoil the New Jersey series for you, but…”
Colin smiles at me mischievously and I playfully slap his chest again. The next thing I know we’re kissing again, until our lips part and I let my head rest on his shoulder. He strokes my back and I gently run my finger up and down his front as the show starts again.
After a minute he says, “Don’t tell anyone,” and I laugh gently before squeezing myself into him a little more.
“I’m just surprised. That’s all. You don’t seem like the type of guy.”
“What ‘type of guy’ am I?”
I take a moment to think about it. “You know… Confident. Cool. A manly man.”
Colin chuckles, his hard muscles vibrating under my cheek. “A ‘manly man’?”
I smack his chest again. “You know what I mean.”
“Well maybe that’s why I like it. Because rather than despite. To me,” he says, gesturing at the screen with his free arm, “this is another world. True escapism. Plus, I like feisty women.”
I pull my head back again to look at him, feeling the urge to press my thigh higher up his. “Are you saying I’m feisty?” I mutter, low and insinuating.
“Where it counts most…yeah,” he mutters back, just as low.
I scratch his abs as I push my hand down over his boxers, until the bulge of his cock is in my palm and I can squeeze it.
“Where it counts, huh?” I hiss through a smile, making it sound almost like a threat.
“Right there… Yeah…” he responds, his head going back on the couch, eyes closing, mouth opening as he exhales quickening breaths. His hand on the back of my neck, tightening involuntarily. I release the squeeze and start to gently rub his cock, feeling it harden and fill under my fingers…
As I move my teeth to take a bite of his flexed chest the clock catches my eye and I stop everything.
“Oh shit,” I say, my hand moving from his cock to his chest so I can push myself up.
“What?”
“I’ve got to get to work in, like, one hour.”
I stand up quickly but before I can step away he pulls me backwards. I shriek as I fall onto him, ending up sitting on his lap, my legs extended and my arm around his neck to stop myself from falling further. Once again a strangely perfect fit.
“Call out sick,” Colin says, his hand already tracing a dangerously provocative line up my thigh.
“I can’t do that at the last minute…”
His hand curls around my thigh and presses my ass in a way that reminds me too much of what’s he done before. His eyes gaze down my shirt at my cleavage, a look promising to do it again.
“Sure you can.”
“I have to give at least twenty-four hours’ notice.”
“HR likes you. You can get away with it.”
“And my patients?”
“They like you, too,” he says with a smile, then looks a bit more serious. “Do you have anything important today? Anything the other OB/GYNs can’t handle.”
I think about it for a moment, looking for something I might have missed, but then shake my head.
“Not really. A few outpatient appointments in the afternoon. I was going to use the morning to finish a few reports… I guess I can do them at home anyway…”
“When was your last sick day?” he asks.
“Probably about two years ago, when I got the flu,” I admit.
“It’s your call,” he says, but the look in his eye tells me what he wants me to do. And I have to admit, the urge to have an entire day with him is overwhelmingly appealing.
I’m breathing heavy now. My eyes closing as my thighs tense and my pussy starts to warm. He’s so good at touching me, I didn’t even notice his hand slipping into my panties. So gentle I can’t tell where his stroking fingers begin and the heat pulsing inside me ends.
“Yeah…” I moan.
His hair is under my neck now. Lips nipping at my collarbone. I want to give in.
“I probably shouldn’t, Colin…” I say, even as I press my cheek into his hair and lift my chest so he can suck and kiss my skin. “I want to, but…”
He stops suddenly, his head moving back to look at me, and the sudden halt of my growing lust feels almost like a punishment. There’s a serious honesty in his face that makes me immediately attentive.
“Look, Mia… The second you walk out that door, we’re going to have to start thinking about what we’ve done. We’re going to have to deal with it and move on… But until that second…” His voice softens as his eyes trail down at my body again, lust firing up anew.
“I suppose it is only a problem once I leave…” I say, meeting his gaze.
“We’ve already made the mistake—why not make the most of it? Stay with me.”
I let my lips fall onto his all over again, only half convinced that this is the right move, but my need for him taking care of the rest.
15
Colin
Do I believe what I just told her? That we can go even deeper into this and it won’t matter? Or am I just saying anything I need to so that I don’t have to watch her leave?
I never crossed a boundary before. Never told a woman I loved her to lead her on. Never took advantage of a vulnerable mental state. Never lied to a woman about who I am or what I want. I’ve been as horny as a Christian rock band and still turned down booty calls from women who would have regretted it.
So what am I doing now, finger-fucking her until she’s gushing over my hand, licking her neck as she arches her back. I can’t think straight for the glorious sound of her purring throat, can’t stop myself when she’s squeezing those slender thighs around my hand.
I’ve never crossed a boundary before, but then… I never knew Mia before. This woman’s making me forget the lessons of my past, and she might
just make me ruin my future—but this moment is too good for me to even care.
“Stop, stop, stop…” she says breathlessly. I oblige, pulling my hand from her panties and helping her sit upright on my lap, a palm going to her forehead as she comes to her senses. “I have to make the call.”
“Your bag is by the door,” I say, and help her get up off of me. It’s a beautiful view watching her walk across the room in nothing but my now-rumpled shirt. Her hair messy and her gait sexily dizzy from the finger-fucking.
She finds her phone and makes the call, pacing and pushing back her hair as she speaks. I can’t take my eyes from her. The smell of her is on my fingers and it sets a primordial craving deep inside of me.
You’re just horny, Colin, I tell myself. You’re horny, and she’s fucking beautiful. That’s all it is.
Except I was horny the first time, and horny last night, and here I am feeling hornier than I’ve ever been. I keep coming back to her hoping the hunger will be satisfied, except it just gets worse. What do they call a hunger that can’t be satisfied? Obsession? Feelings? Love?
Get a grip, Colin…
She finally hangs up and looks at me.
“How did it go?” I ask.
“They were cool with it,” she says, walking back to me. “They didn’t even ask me why—which I’m glad for. I’m a terrible liar.”
I open my arms for her to come back into my lap and she drops that round ass back where she was. We start to kiss but before we can work up any more steam my phone rings, and I instantly remember.
“Shit,” I say, pulling back.
“What is it?”
She slides off me and I go to my phone in the kitchen, though by the time I get there it’s not ringing anymore. I pick it up and start typing out a message.
“What is it?” she repeats.
“My friend, Jake,” I sigh. “I borrowed the keys to his storage unit to dump some things in there and I was supposed to meet him and give them back today.”
I send the message telling him I’ll meet him tomorrow instead and he replies seconds later telling me how badly he needs them today. Mia reads the frustration in my face as easily as the message.
“You can go meet him. It won’t take that long,” she says. “I can just…wait here.”
“He works down at the beach and can’t get away so I kinda have to—”
“It’s fine,” she says, waving me away. “I’m cool hanging here until you get back.”
I nod and make for the bedroom to put some clothes on but stop before I reach the door. This is supposed to be the last time. I’ll never get the chance with her again and I’m about to waste it running an errand.
Before I can even really think about it I say, “Why don’t you come along?”
“Come along?”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking the idea through as I’m saying it. “You’ve seen him before. It’s the guy I was with that night you wore the red dress.”
She smiles and I realize she didn’t think of it as “the night in the red dress” until now.
“Well…”
“He’s cool,” I say. “And it’s not like he could tell anyone he saw us together. He’s a beach-bum, surfer-drummer—about as far from a medical professional as you can get.”
Mia thinks about it for a second, shrugs, and then unfurls her gorgeous legs to get up.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The small shack is a slice of old L.A. that’s stood for decades. Now the old Coke signs and hot dog advertisements are as faded as old photographs, and the uncool coral-and-blue color scheme is almost back in fashion.
Once it served milkshakes to boys with rock ‘n’ roll hairdos and girls in poodle skirts, now it serves beers to stoned surfers and Instagram models. Popular enough to be a decent place to meet people, but not so busy that it loses its charm.
Jake likes it because it’s close to his work, and he’s only meeting me during a short break. Still, he can finish more beers in a lunch break than most get down in a night, and still impress during his surf lessons. Years of playing music live will give you that ability.
I like the place. It’s got a great view of the ocean and the boardwalk, and a vibe so laid back you could get high just being there. But today the beautiful scenery and buzzing atmosphere are just distractions from what’s really got me high.
Mia keeps my shirt (her bra underneath now) and keeps the messy hair. Girl-next-door beautiful. The clothes simple but the way she wears them mesmerizing.
How can she not realize how stunning she is?
I’ve known girls with half her looks who walk twice as confidently. She’s oblivious to her own magnificence, and it only makes her more so.
And then I remember that she’s not just the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen in a very long time, but she’s a doctor too—a fucking brilliant one. And she’s funny. And easy to be around. And a good person. And then I’m fascinated all over again by how she’s all of those things and at the same time so jaw-clenchingly attractive.
She drives us to the beach in her car, and I stretch out in my seat to enjoy the (fast) ride. Even there I can’t help watching her—Mia driving too intensely to even notice—and my mind stirs up a whole bunch of questions.
What does she want from life? What does she think about when she’s alone? How the hell did she get to her age, being her, and still end up single?
The last question puzzles me so much I almost ask it again, but I stop myself just in time. Fucking is one thing, and bad enough. Starting to talk about relationships is something else entirely, and too dangerous even for me.
After parking in a small lot near the shack, we get out. As she rounds the car she catches my eye and the focus I put on her makes her giggle shyly and hang her head, red hair falling over her face. I put an arm around her shoulder and she grabs my hand as we walk toward the tables and chairs of the shack.
It’s a little reckless, to be so affectionate in public. Maybe it’s even a little inappropriate. After all, we’re pretty much just a one-night stand that’s having an encore. But it’s natural, and it feels good, and I’d rather be back at my place alone with her anyway…
“Colin!” Jake shouts, lifting himself from a bench where he was working through a beer with a few other people.
I acknowledge him and we meet around a cheap-looking plastic table shaded by a striped umbrella.
“Hey,” I say, clasping hands for a second and then fishing for his keys. “This is—”
“Mia,” Jake says, winking at her. “I remember.”
“Jake, right?”
“Right,” he says, casting a split second look at me that says a lot. You went and did it, you bastard. “Celibate” my ass!
I hand him the keys and put my hand on Mia’s lower back, readying to turn and leave.
“There you go. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Wait,” Jake says, arms out imploringly. “Stay and have a beer. A milkshake. A hot dog. You drove all this way.”
His eyes flick between me and Mia, almost pleading.
“Not today. We’ve got to…”
I look at Mia for some support, but she’s still got the smile she had from giggling at me and instead gets a glint in her eye.
“Sure. We can stay. I haven’t had a milkshake in years. I used to love them,” she beams, turning her excitement to me. I melt in front of it, unable to do anything that would darken the light radiating from that perfect face.
“I guess we’re having milkshakes.”
“I’ll get them,” Jake says, putting his beer on the table. He turns to Mia. “What do you want? No, let me guess… It’s strawberry or banana.”
“Strawberry,” Mia laughs.
He turns to me. “And a vanilla for you, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, and Mia turns to me quickly, her humor still not gone.
“Vanilla? I never had you down as a vanilla guy.”
“Vanilla’s underrated,” I say. “It’s act
ually a really—”
“Really complex flavor,” Jake says before I can. He looks at Mia and rolls his eyes. “I’ve heard this before. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Mia laughs gently as he spins and leaves. She looks around at the other patrons, the beach to one side, the boardwalk to the other.
“He seems nice,” she says eventually.
I nod, then say, “Too nice. If we let him, he’ll have us drunk by four p.m., at a rave by midnight, and racing cars in the desert by sunrise.”
“Reminds me of my brother Toby. Sounds like fun, to be honest.”
I cast her a surprised look. “Really? I got the impression you didn’t like spontaneity.”
Mia leans toward me with mock confrontation. “Well I got the impression you weren’t a vanilla guy.”
I move closer, our faces inches apart, and match her jokey provocativeness. “There’s more to vanilla than you think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
With each exchange our faces get a little closer, our voices a little less humorous and a little more intense, until we’re on the verge of kissing—so close I can feel her breath on my lips.
“Am I interrupting something?” Jake says, placing the drinks on the table.
“No,” I say, snapping out of it with a smile and reaching for my shake. “We were just talking about what a nice guy you were.”
“One of my favorite topics,” he says. “Did you mention that Wednesdays I teach disabled kids how to boogie-board? And I make sure to do at least three shifts a month at the soup kitchen?”
“No—because I knew you would do it yourself at the first opportunity,” I say.
Mia laughs and I sip my milkshake a bit.
“How’s that vanilla tasting?” she asks, winking at Jake.
“Impervious to your trash talk,” I answer, slurping loudly.
She laughs and I let her enjoy the mockery for a few more moments before quickly putting my milkshake in front of her and pulling hers away.