DIRTY READS

by Scott Hildreth

  Holy crap.

  “And now you’re friends?”

  He took a drink of beer and coughed out a laugh. “Friends? Hell, we’re more like brothers. Ain’t no secret, but Dekk’s dad got killed in the war, and his mom left when he was a kid. So, my parent’s all but adopted his turkey sandwich eatin’ ass. Now he comes over to their house with his wife and kid every Sunday for dinner.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said.

  He chuckled. “The gettin’ knocked out part, or the adoptin’ Dekk part?”

  “Both,” I said. “Getting knocked out let you guys become friends.”

  “It damned sure did.” He shifted his eyes from me to Ethan. “Now you know the truth. It wasn’t over a piece of ass. And it wasn’t a drunken parking lot brawl, either. Can’t have rumors like that floatin’ around.”

  “That’s just what I heard,” Ethan said with a shrug. “Thanks for clearing it up.”

  Ripp glanced at his watch. “Shit, I got to get out of here, or my wife’s gonna have my ass.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out two $100 bills, and tossed them on the table. “Pay the tab with that, and leave whatever’s left for a tip.”

  He slapped his hand against the edge of the table as he stood up. “Good show tonight, Jaz.” He glanced at Ethan. “Get your heart in the game, kid.”

  Ethan waved his hand toward Ripp as if dismissing his comment. “Go home.”

  As Ripp walked away, I turned to Ethan. “What did he mean by that? Get your heart in the game?”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “He always tells me my heart isn’t in it. That’s what we were talking about the day we met you at Starbucks.”

  “Is your heart in it?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, it is. But he gives me shit about my record. Too many losses. To him, it’s all about winning. But I’m not in it for those reasons.”

  I returned a blank stare. If you’re not in it to win, why be in it at all?

  “Why do you do it?”

  “For me, boxing is kind of like an anger management thing, I guess. Sometimes I need to lose.”

  It didn’t make sense to me, but I nodded nonetheless. “And losing satisfies you?”

  “Sometimes I think it’s exactly what I need. And sometimes I need to win. So, I go into the ring with different goals. Sometimes I go in with the understanding that I’m going to lose. Other times I go in with a desire to win.”

  It was an odd theory as far as I was concerned, but I found it interesting. A self-imposed punishment of sorts, I guessed. I needed to know more, so I pried a little further. “When you go in with the goal of winning, how many times have you lost?”

  “None.”

  “And when you go in with the goal of losing?”

  He grinned. “Lost them all.”

  “So, you’re kind of undefeated.” I laughed. “At least when you want to be.”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

  “Have you told Ripp that you don’t always want to win?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to get into it with him, so I just kept it to myself. I doubt he’d understand.”

  “I don’t understand, but it’s interesting.”

  “I don’t really understand it,” he said. “But I’ve got my theories.”

  “What are they?”

  “There are times when I don’t want to win, but I want to fight. I want to go in, fight, and lose. That’s my plan, to lose. I think it’s kind of like the kids in school who self-harmed themselves. It’s a coping mechanism, or whatever. When I was a kid, I was expected to be perfect. It was pounded into my head, over and over. But, no one’s perfect. I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. Now, something inside of me tells me I need to be, but I’m smart enough to know I can’t be. I think losing the fights help convince me that I’m in control. I know I could win, but I choose not to. Does that make sense?”

  It was apparent Ethan’s childhood wasn’t much better than mine. I dealt with mine by leaving, physically separating myself from my father. He was attempting to deal with his by trying to be in control of something as uncontrollable as a fight.

  “It does,” I said.

  The more I learned about him, the more I realized just how similar we were. I’d never spent a moment feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

  “Anything else?” the waitress asked.

  I looked at Ethan. He shook his head.

  “No, thank you.”

  She placed the bill on the table. “Whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

  I looked at the bill. It was only $102. I placed the two $100 bills in the check holder and folded it closed, feeling confident the waitress would be pleased with Ripp’s $98 tip.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  I climbed out of the booth and extended my hand. He reached for it and smiled as I pulled against his weight, helping him slide from the booth. After he stood up, I continued to hold his hand in mine.

  I walked toward the door with him at my side, completely expecting him to eventually release my hand or object in some way.

  But it never came.

  We walked to the truck hand-in-hand, and he opened the door for me, just like he did the night we went to the coffee shop. His manners, calm demeanor, and handsome good looks were proving to be just too much for me. It was at that moment, as I climbed inside the truck while he held the door, that I decided I wanted our friendship to go one step further.

  One very sexual step.

  SEVEN

  Jaz

  Day twenty-four.

  She looked at me like I was nothing shy of insane. “How old are you, again?”

  “Twenty-four,” I responded. “Why?”

  “Because you’re acting like you’re fifteen.”

  “I am not,” I huffed.

  Our shifts had ended, and the diner was closed. We sat at a table in the center of the dining area talking about relationships and men. Not having had many close girlfriends over the years, I found value in Rachel, often asking her opinions about all things related to being a girl. We were roughly the same age, and she was really close to her mother, which made her advice seem almost motherly. This was, however, my first attempt to get advice from her about a man.

  “You want to fuck him, right?”

  It wasn’t all I wanted, but it was part of it. I nodded, but felt the need to explain further. “I mean. Yeah. But not just fuck him. I want to--”

  She waved her hands in the air jokingly. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear it. You’re talking to me because your head’s in one place, and his is in another, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You want him, and you’re afraid he doesn’t want you. Or he doesn’t want you the same as you want him. Or whatever. Right?”

  So far, on limited information, she sure seemed to understand the intricacies regarding my dilemma. Convinced I had made the right decision in confiding my relationship woes to her, I proceeded. “Right,” I said. “It seems like he’s moving along at one pace, and I’m at another.”

  “But. Your goal is to fuck him. You’re each moving at a different pace, but the prize at the end of the race is sex, right?”

  It sounded bad, but it was true. Kind of. I nodded in agreement. “I guess.”

  “This is so tenth grade. I swear,” she said. “Tell him you want his dick.”

  As bold and as brash as I was, telling Ethan I wanted his cock seemed a bit overboard. I shot her a confused stare. “Just say it? ‘Hey, Ethan, I want your cock?’ I’m just supposed to tell him that? That’s your best advice?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what I’d do.”

  In my experience, guys had always made the first move. I had never met anyone who was as uninterested in fucking me as Ethan, though. “Really?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes slightly. After a moment’s thought, she released her lip and shook her head. �
��No, I’d probably suck his cock. No guy is going to deny you a blowjob. And what does a good blowjob lead to?”

  I shrugged. “Sex?”

  “Sex.” She nodded and raised her index finger in the air. “As long as you don’t let him finish. Don’t forget that. You can’t make him come. If you do, you’ll just become that girl who sucks his dick, and you don’t want that. Been there, done that. Not doing it again.”

  It sounded like utter nonsense. “Don’t make him come?”

  “God no. Just suck it long enough to drive him crazy. Then stop. He’ll try and convince you to continue, but don’t do it. Eventually, he’ll give in. He’ll fuck you. And, if for some reason, you do make him come? Like by some accident? Whatever you do, don’t swallow.”

  I scrunched my nose. “What else am I going to do with it?”

  “Act like that shit is acid. Avoid it at all costs. Like you’re afraid of it. Say shit like yuck and gross.”

  I laughed out loud. “Why?”

  “Same reason,” she said. “If you swallow, he’ll want it all the time. And, that’ll be all he wants. He’ll just want you to suck his dick. You’ll become the blowjob girl. Believe me, you don’t want to be that girl. I’ve been her. It’s no fun.”

  I got a pretty good laugh thinking about it, and then regained my composure. “You’ve been the blowjob girl?”

  She rolled her eyes while she nodded. “Yep. There was this guy. Brad Bishop. I wanted him to give me the dick, and he just wanted to hang out. That’s all we did. Hang out. Never even made out. Not once. I was beginning to think he was gay. So, one night, I unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. ‘What are you doing?’ That’s what he asked me. I didn’t even respond, I just wrapped my lips around it. He didn’t ask me anything else. He just moaned. Told me it was the best blowjob he ever got.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Every time I saw him, that was all he wanted. I sucked his dick in the car, in the theater, in his bedroom, in his mom’s living room, in the driveway, you name it.”

  “And he never fucked you?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Because I made the mistake of swallowing before we had sex. So what you need to do is this: act like you’re afraid of that shit. Then, one day, after he’s fucked you for a few weeks or so, tell him you want to try and swallow. Tell him you’re willing to give it a go just because you think he’s that cool. Tell him you like him so much you’re going to swallow his cum. He’ll never forget it. But only do it after you get the dick.”

  “So, I should unzip his pants, pull out his dick, and suck it. But don’t swallow?”

  “Yep.”

  “And that’ll make him like me?”

  “It’ll make him want you. Then, when he decides to fuck you, fuck him like your life depends on it. Then, he’ll like you.”

  It sounded like pretty good advice. And, according to her, she’d been in her fair share of relationships. Lucky me, because if there was one thing I was good at besides boxing, sucking cocks had to be it.

  “Okay. I’ll try it. If this makes him hate me, I’m really going to be mad at you.”

  “You’ve sucked a dick before, right?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about what you said. I think I was the blowjob girl in high school. It seems like that’s all I did.” I chuckled. “Maybe it was because I always swallowed.”

  “Probably. You don’t ever want to do that until they give you the dick. And then, always make a huge deal of it. Like you’re taking this big step. It makes them feel special.”

  “I’ll try it,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Bring him in here.”

  “In here?”

  “Yeah, I want to see him.”

  I had no intention of bringing him to the shitty diner I worked at. “I don’t think I want to bring him in here. Maybe you can come to the gym sometime. Watch me fight or something.”

  “Whatever. I just want to see this guy. He sounds hot.”

  “He is hot. I just hope this works.”

  “That’s what I was going to say a minute ago. Have you ever sucked a guy’s dick and had him get mad about it?”

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “Nope.”

  “You never will, either. Guys love blowjobs.”

  I hoped she was right.

  And I was ready to find out.

  EIGHT

  Jaz

  Day twenty-six.

  “This is awesome, what did you do to it?” Ethan asked.

  The chicken tasted much better than the list of ingredients indicated, that was for sure. “Olive oil, fresh basil, salt, and pepper. That’s it.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really.”

  I had invited Ethan over for dinner and had every intention of following Rachel’s recommendation of sucking his cock after we finished our meal. Seeing him satisfied with my cooking was a much better experience than I ever would have expected, and as much as I didn’t want it to end, I was ready to move on to stage two of our night.

  “Well, it’s really good. Like really good,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He was wearing jeans, boots, and a really cute black and white plaid short-sleeved pearl snap shirt. He looked much different than he did in sweats or shorts, which was all I had seen him wear since we’d met. It was obvious his hair had product in it, but it was still kind of everywhere hair, which added to his overall cuteness.

  He took another bite. “When’s your next fight?”

  “Ripp said he’s setting up something now. I’d guess here in a few weeks – at the most – from what he said.”

  “But you don’t know who?”

  I poked a piece of chicken in my mouth and shrugged. “Don’t really care. As long as she’s in my weight class, I’m not worried.”

  “Good attitude to have.”

  I nodded in agreement. I thought of sucking his cock and wondered if he’d be as pleased with it as he was with the poultry. I took another bite of the mouth-watering chicken and began to wonder.

  “Have you dated since...” I paused, not really knowing how to continue. Honestly, I wished I never would have started the question. Luckily, he fully understood what I was too uncomfortable to ask.

  “No.” The fork dangled from between his thumb and forefinger as he gazed down at the table. “I don’t know. I would. But. I just haven’t found anyone who interested me enough.”

  “No sex, either?”

  “No. I’m not a random sex kind of guy.”

  Well, that’s good to know.

  I wondered if sucking his cock qualified as sex, and if so, if he would consider it random. Maybe he was interested enough in me to let me do it, and all I needed to do was ask.

  But Rachel had said not to ask. I was just supposed to do it.

  I poked at my chicken, far less interested in eating than I was in luring Ethan into sex. After a lengthy period of silence during which I planned what my next step was going to be, I took another bite and looked at him.

  I didn’t really have a preference when it came to men, it simply seemed if someone was willing to pay attention to me, I allowed them to. That willingness to attach myself to any man who showered me with attention was a result of my lack of a healthy relationship with my father, and I realized it. My sexual experiences had produced nerds, jocks, cowboys, stoners, and a businessman. They ranged in age from three years younger than me to thirteen years older.

  Sitting across the table from Ethan, I was convinced if I was given an opportunity to choose, he would be the type of man I preferred. Breathtakingly handsome, very athletic, and slightly broken, he was the epitome of perfection.

  Because he was gorgeous. And imperfect.

  Desperately wanting him to finish his chicken so I could suck his cock, I peered across the table. He was one bite away from a blowjob.

  Satisfaction washed over me as I watched him spear the last piece of chicken with his
fork and raise it to his mouth. I hurriedly finished my meal and stood up, prepared to take our dishes to the kitchen and begin my sexual advance.

  I reached for his plate. “Looks like you enjoyed it.”

  He looked up and grinned. “Is there more?”

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  “Uhhm. Sure,” I responded, even though I wanted to tell him no. “Do you want more?”

  “If it’s no trouble.”

  It’s not any trouble, but you’re cock blocking yourself and you don’t even know it.

  “No, not at all,” I said.

  I took his plate to the kitchen and picked through the platter of chicken, looking for the smallest piece. Tempted to cut one of them in half, but afraid he’d raise an eyebrow at the alteration, I reluctantly chose the smallest breast and grabbed the remaining asparagus.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing him the plate.

  “You’re not going to eat more?”

  My appetite was elsewhere. “I’m stuffed.”

  I sat down and waited anxiously for him to finish his meal. Not having knowledge of my plans to suck him into a state of sexual bliss, he ate slowly and talked about topics I had very little interest in discussing.

  A piece of chicken dangled from the tip of his fork. “So how long have you had your car?”

  What in the fuck does that have to do with anything?

  I had the car for nothing short of forever. It was the only car I ever owned, and I’d driven it from my sophomore year in high school until its most recent venture to work, one day prior. “Uhhm, for like eight years. I’ve had it since I was sixteen.”

  “You just don’t see many of those old school Corollas around anymore.”

  No shit. Most people can afford to replace them.

  “Yeah,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “It’s a classic.”

  He ate the piece of chicken, took a sip of wine, and inspected the asparagus. After much thought, he stabbed a piece and raised it to his mouth. After nibbling at it leisurely until all that remained was the short stalk that was attached to the tines of his fork, he removed the remaining piece with his fingers.