by Dixon,Jules
The first couple test-drove a used Camry during their lunch hour. Nice car, fully equipped, zippy … yada, yada, yada. It was clear that the car would be the woman’s so I played to her. Asking general life questions, I found out she was an artist. Ah-ha! Something we had in common. The revelation bonded us quite well, and they agreed if nothing else piqued their interest, they would be back tomorrow. A good feeling rolled through me.
The second referral to show mid-afternoon was a young, single guy. I listened to Garrett on the phone, and he said he wanted something brand spankin’ new and sporty, although my gut told me he was a bells-and-whistles guy. Especially after he recited all of the upgrades in the Mustang Club of America Special Edition Package faster than I ever could. However, the client was always right—to start with—in my book. There was no use arguing over the phone. My job was to get him here then work my magic.
I moved the requested Ford Mustang GT to the front. Garrett rounded the car with little enthusiasm. We settled in for the test-drive, and he tore off, sending rocks orbiting into the atmosphere. I laughed and joked about his lead foot, but I was guaranteed flak from Charlie about the excessive wear and tear and potential liability factors when we returned. After the immature stunt, Garrett still seemed unimpressed. I told him I had something that would be a better fit, if he’d just trust me. He hesitated but agreed.
I drove back to the dealership to save the sports car from further damage, and walked him to a slightly used but priced better-than-new, fully loaded to the hilt, BMW 335i. I rattled off the list of upgrades and special features the car possessed. It was amazing that the feat of auto engineering didn’t time travel. I almost added that feature to see if Garrett was listening, but I didn’t. I could tell he was enthralled by the way he rounded the bright red car and a smile illuminated his face.
The smile.
He drove. He bought. That car sped away. Zero to sixty in 4.6 seconds.
Later, I was waiting in my office for the third test-drive appointment to arrive, when Drexel rounded the doorway. If he weren’t such a jerk, I’d think he was hot as hell. An all-American look with vibrant blue eyes, styled wavy blond hair, and perfect white teeth. A fine representation of what the Heartland had to offer in a long and lanky body.
“Hey, Miss Perfect,” slid off his slimy tongue.
I rolled my eyes and pretended to gag.
He chuckled through his words. “I just wanted to let you know that while you were out with Beemer-boy, your college sweetie came in and I took care of her. Hope you don’t mind. You don’t, right?”
Every hair on my body stood. This wasn’t the first time the still-a-frat-boy-at-heart had stolen a potential sale from me. Complaining about the steal would do me no good. Charlie would listen, but “The customer needs to be helped immediately” would be his mantra. And the sales manager, Trent, was in a bromance with Drexel, so he was less than useless.
Don’t think this is over. And watch your back, I’m out for blood now.
I kept my reaction in check. “No problem. Did she end up with the economy car she needed?”
“No, I convinced her to get a full-sized. Didn’t take much … I just gave a wink and she was putty in my hands.” His gaze made a trail to my chest and then back up to my eyes.
I ignored his obvious eye-mauling. “Drexel, she is just out of college. She needs a fuel-efficient car because she’s going to be a traveling nurse.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, just part of the business. Plus, I got an eight thousand dollar up sale.”
“Drexel, you need to think more about our customers and what they want. And not about your wallet.”
He flattened his hands on my desk and leaned forward. “Well, you know, it’s not the size of the wallet, it’s how a guy uses his line of credit.” His eyebrows flashed at me.
This was a typical Drexel Mason encounter. For the past two years, he had acted like an ass around me … and to me. Drexel was simply distasteful and completely boorish and totally immature.
He added, “I’d be glad to let you abuse my line of credit, Presley.”
“Get out.” I stood and pointed at my door.
“I was just kidding, geez, you can never take a joke, Miss Perfect.” He raised his hands all fake-offended.
“Drexel, out of my office. Now!”
He finally stepped backward toward the door. Before he moved into the hallway, he lowered his voice and wore a lascivious grin. “I love it when you get all worked up, Presley. I can imagine that’s how passionate you are in bed. Maybe someday—”
“Out!”
You’re a giant swine boy!
After Dixless retreated, I cursed for a minute to remove his foulness out of my head, only to replace the memory of him with other foul thoughts. Damn!
The third referral ended up being his anyway. Recovery was still possible. He didn’t know about the final three referrals. Diligence and extra attention would ensure those three referrals would pan out. I would work my magic.
And I know what I need.
I texted Willow.
Prez: Bad/good day. Have sweet tart martini ready, please.
Willow: Will do. Anything else? Need some B Cooper or J Depp tonight?
Prez: Johnny please … I need to be Depp’d badly!
Willow: LOL. Me too, dear, but I’m afraid both of us will be Depping ourselves tonight :-(
Prez: Ewwww!
Willow: I know you do it. The walls are thin … very thin.
Prez: Ewwww again! I’ll be home in an hour.
Willow: I’ll have the S.T.M. ready to be chugged and extra AAA batteries waiting. <3 u
Prez: LOL. You are a true friend. <3 u 2
Willow was the closest thing I had to a sister, and I considered her my closest family member who didn’t match any part of my DNA. She listened to all my Dixless problems, and I think she plotted to poison him by luring him with her female wiles to some fancy tainted meal.
I called the three remaining referrals one more time and rattled off another sincere personal message of my interest in helping them to find the perfect vehicle. There was a fine line between interest and badgering, but thankfully, I’d never been accused of the latter. After finishing up some paperwork and powering down the computer, I headed out to face the last of rush-hour traffic.
At home, Willow stood right inside the front door with in one hand, my purple and green tartan plaid lounge pants and a ratty I Love NY t-shirt and fuzzy green socks. In the other hand, she held my bright-blue-colored martini. I stripped at the door and crawled into the comforting clothes. Willow and I were way past the embarrassed-to-see-each-other-naked phase.
“So tell me about your day.” She examined me from head to toe like I should have visible bruises or scars if my day was that bad.
The tangy and sweet martini danced on my palate. I plopped on the couch with a thud to give her the highlights. Willow snarled and appeared to be thinking up ways to give Dixless a few bruises and scars in addition to poisoning him. I calmed her down to just under furious with a promise to talk to Charlie about his behavior before we ate the quiche and salad Willow made, while I enjoyed a second sweet tart martini.
The next news might upset Willow, but she would want to know anyway.
I cleared my throat. “So I didn’t get a chance yesterday to tell you, Mitch was fired from Triple R. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why.”
“What? He didn’t call me.” She tipped her head and her face tightened. “And I didn’t sense anything was wrong, but that’s not new … whole love-block thing.”
Mitch and Willow dated for about a year when we were seniors in high school. He was her first boyfriend, love, and lover. They stayed in touch and sometimes they still touched each other. She assured me they were only compatible in the sack, but I wondered if she didn’t still hold a little place in her heart—her eccentric and wildly unique heart—for him.
She lifted her phone from the sofa armrest and texted, I assumed, Mitch
.
“So, did you workout on your own yesterday?” she asked.
“No, this new trainer rescued me from the front desk piece of work while I was trying to get an appointment to talk to Blake.”
Willow groaned. “Emerson?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, she made some, I think, rude comment that I didn’t catch when I tried to give him a chance to back out of training me on the fly. He told her he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than help me.” I ingested a long drink of my martini. “It was kind of sweet,” I added, holding the glass to my lips to hide my smile.
Willow opened her mouth wide. “Oh! My! God! Prez!” She accented each word with a pop of her eyes. “You like him!”
“I do not.”
I kind of do.
“What’s his name?”
“Nope. Not going to offer his name up so you can use him in one of your perverse sexual fantasies.”
“Fine. I bet you twenty dollars that you’ll be Depping yourself to his mental image and screaming his name tonight.”
I smacked her arm lightly. “Ewwww! Unlike you, I have control of my sexual appetite.”
Considering I didn’t get that many opportunities to satisfy my appetite, I’d grown accustomed to savoring sex when the magic happened. Two boyfriends in the last nine years, each one lasting about the length of a calendar year before we fizzled. The first took my virginity, the second my Xbox 360. And that’s not a euphemism.
The first boyfriend was nice. The second one was like Satan on cocaine. Even though it’d been over a year since a casual one-night stand that ended up only ho-hum, I didn’t think I was ready to hum again with anyone … yet.
But Jude, with his long silky strands of sable-colored hair that I could slide my fingers through, his long, perfectly trimmed sideburns that I could imagine grazing against my nipples, his incredibly tanned, muscular body that could be written about in books, and his amazing hazel eyes that I could envision looking down on me while we made love … well, he made me question my need for a good hum. However, past experiences taught me that men could look one way and act another. It was a fact that had left a sour taste for getting to know the opposite sex. Maybe it’s time to have a sample taste again? Not all men are alike, right?
“Earth to Presley … Presley!” Willow yelled loud enough to make my ears ring.
“What? What!” I snapped away the scandalous thoughts with a shake of my head.
“So next Monday’s training won’t come soon enough, will it?” She shoved my shoulder.
“Actually, he’s giving me a second session on Friday. For free.”
“No shit!”
“Yeah, you’re not going to believe what he said.”
She leaned in closer. “What?”
“He asked me to give him another chance to work me until I’m dripping with sweat everywhere and my muscles are screaming for release.”
She fanned herself. “I think I’m dripping … down there.”
I made a disgusted face at Willow’s uncouth comment but followed my reaction up with a closed-mouth giggle. “I know he meant the comment to be strictly professional, but damn, I about melted into the commercially carpeted floor!” I acted like I fainted into the sofa, and Willow laughed.
After we watched a Johnny Depp double feature of Chocolat and Benny and Joon, it was right before midnight when we turned off the TV and cleaned up the living room and kitchen. I had a noon start tomorrow since it was my night to work until close at eight p.m. I usually slept in a little before I went to work out. I hit my cozy feather comforter-covered bed right at midnight, but I tossed and tossed and turned and turned. My body wouldn’t unwind.
Staring up at the ceiling, I realized what needed to happen. Damn, I’ll owe Willow twenty dollars.
I opened the drawer in my nightstand and took out my special pink vibrator, hoping Willow was already asleep after her three martinis.
I turned on the quietly humming soft plastic to the lowest buzz and imagined Jude’s full lips started at my nipples as I grazed the toy over each raised peak, his wet lips encircling each of my quarter-sized light pink areola, pulling on my erect nipples. I moaned softly as the light vibrations sent an ache through my breasts. I glided the tip of the vibrator down my body, teasing my belly button, imagining Jude would do the same until I was writhing for more. Only when I couldn’t take the heavenly torture, he would lower his tongue through my tastefully trimmed but not shaved mound. My vision morphed with him guiding himself down so he was face-to-face with the part of me that was blistering heat from the inside out. His hot breath scorched the delicate skin between my legs with want and need to please me.
I pictured him looking up at me from his prone position between my raised legs, licking his beautiful crimson-red lips and throwing me the twisted smirk he had on yesterday as I walked past him when I left the gym. I stopped for a moment to tease my clit with the bulbous tip of the vibrator, and my whole body responded with a shiver of pre-delight. Lowering my hand, I slid the soft plastic through my already dripping wetness, fantasizing that Jude’s lips and teeth were skimming over the outer and inner folds of my body, teasing, pulling, and licking until I was ready to explode from his tender yet confident attention. I guided the toy into my wetness, where the bulb end hit my G-spot perfectly and the little butterfly vibrated right against my engorged button, sending zings of pleasure throughout my body.
I hit the second setting on the push-button control, imagining his tongue alternating between my wet core and flicking my clit, teasing as he held me on the edge, building my internal tension until he plunged deep into my core with his tongue. I imagined his large hands holding my thighs at his will.
I thrashed on the bed, my body readying for a release, my thighs tensed, as pants and moans of extreme enjoyment escaped my mouth one after another. I pressed the button for the highest vibration setting and exploded in a thrilling rush of heat that seared long and unforgivingly through every muscle of my body like lightning through a June Nebraska sky. I murmured his name in reverence as the waves of climax washed over me for so long that I lost my breath and all reality, fully immersed in the fantasy.
I removed the toy and dropped my orgasm-shattered and totally relaxed arms to the bed.
“Holy shit!” I mumbled.
“You can say that again!” Willow said dryly through the wall. “And you owe me twenty bucks!”
We both laughed so hard and for so long that it was well after midnight before I got to sleep.
One of the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time.
Chapter Four
Jude
Wednesday was my day off from Triple R. After I completed a ten-mile run in the crisp April morning air, I showered and dressed in comfortable cargo shorts and a Foo Fighters concert t-shirt. I spent mid-morning doing some basic cleaning. Zane wasn’t a slob and neither was I. Still, we were bachelors, so bedsheets got washed less often than they probably should be, a layer of dust coated everything, and the bathroom wasn’t eat-off-the-floor clean like our mom’s.
I woke Zane to tell him I’d wash his sheets if he carried them to the washer. They were a human petri dish of fluids, and I wasn’t about to touch them. He stood, and I gave him a few choice cuss words for the birthday suit view and left the room shaking my head. His fondness for walking around nude didn’t bother me, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed constantly seeing his multi-pierced junk. This being his place and me living here practically rent-free, I didn’t complain. I heard him divesting his bed of the covers. He walked into the living room and before I could move, the disgusting bedsheets covered my body.
“What the hell! Dude!” I scrambled from the sofa, to get out from under what I could only imagine was semen, lady-part juice, and K-Y Jelly-coated material. “Zane! Take your nasty sheets to the washing machine, you douche!”
Zane laughed at my reaction, picked up the fabric, and headed off to the laundry room. In a minute, the washer whirred and whe
n he returned he was wearing a pair of lounge pants from the dryer. Thank God.
“Have today off, bro?” Zane planted his ass in the leather chair. He slid his feet onto the ottoman and nudged Ninja to move from his favorite place to curl up. Zane’s eyes narrowed in on the cat as he stretched and jumped onto the coffee table, also designated a “cat-free zone”. I grabbed Ninja and moved him to the sofa before my brother threw a fit a two-year-old would be impressed with.
“Yeah, Wednesdays and Saturdays and most Sundays, it’s rotating.” I rifled through some magazines on the coffee table.
“Your boss agreed to that?”
“I explained to Blake that I already took a bartending job at Two Fine for the weekends and coming in three hours after closing would be rough. Still, I kind of thought I’d have to quit Two Fine. Glad I don’t. I like it, fast-paced, good tips, and great staff.”
Zane grabbed the TV remote from the table. “So how did your first two days go at Triple R?”
“Better than I expected. I already have four clients booked for weekly appointments, one for twice a week, and I’m thinking I’ll get this girl, Presley, to commit to me tomorrow.”
“You make it sound like she’s going to marry you.” He switched the TV channel.
“What did you say?” I suspended my searching of the magazines. My heart tripped in a weird and fast rhythm when I replayed his words in my mind.
He shook his head. “Fuck. I don’t remember.” His shoulders shrugged away his interest in the question. “Anyway, did you ever call Yori’s sister?”
“Yes.”
Zane’s lips tipped into a creepy smile and raised his eyebrows. “So are you going to do it?”
“Yes.” I attempted to read a magazine article on nutrition.
Zane knew better than to continue asking questions, especially when I only gave him one-word answers. Soon I would stop answering the questions, which were grating on my patience and none of his business, and ignore him.