Undertow: Big D!ck Escort Service

by Willow Summers

Janie stuck out her hand for them.

  “They’re dirty,” he said, holding onto them.

  She looked his way, then at the floor. “Colton keeps this place immaculate, and if he slips, Ethan cleans. Those grapes are fine.”

  Noah chuckled and handed off the grapes, because Janie was right. Colton was really good about maintaining the tidiness of his house, where they all seemed to congregate out of boredom. And Ethan…well, his hyper-organizational issues were even more powerful than his laziness—something that came in handy when everyone else was too indifferent to clean up.

  “Colton’s on site, but he’ll be back soon. He’s going to lead us through his plan to release his playground into the wild,” Dave said, his fingers making a thunk as they hit the bottom of the bowl. Noah had asked about Colton’s whereabouts when he’d walked in earlier, but he’d been shushed, then ignored in favor of the TV. Dave looked down in confusion, realized the bowl was empty, and held out a hand for Janie to share one of the last two—dirty—grapes.

  Janie shoved them both into her mouth.

  “Stingy,” Dave muttered, grabbing the bowl and rising. He headed out of the room, and Noah followed him. “He wants to know what we all think. So Janie and I are planning to hang out here until everyone else comes over. She needs a break from painting, and I need a break from… absolutely nothing.”

  Calling it a playground was just a joke to make Colton crazy. It was actually a state-of-the-art mini-golf course with batting cages, bumper boats, go-karts, and a sweet arcade. Noah had visited the construction site a couple months ago as things were starting to come together. The bare bones looked pretty awesome.

  Noah led Dave into the kitchen and stopped at the island. He looked around. “I feel like I should have something better to do on a Friday night than hanging out in a house when the owner isn’t home. Normal people would probably think that was weird, come to think of it. Especially since I have my own home…”

  “We’re house sitting. That’s not weird—”

  “It is when it’s for a mere three hours.”

  “—and you probably should have something better to do, but unless it’s dazzling a lady, what would it possibly be?” Dave took out some cheese and salami.

  Noah rapped on the granite of the island. Dave had a point. It’s not like Noah could date for real. What would he tell the woman he did for a profession? Telling a chick that you screwed other chicks for money would end the night pretty quickly. Girls didn’t have a sense of humor or understanding where that stuff was concerned. And sure, he could just not mention it, but that would feel a lot like lying.

  “I need some single friends,” Noah finally said.

  “What would you do differently with single friends?”

  “Not stand around looking like a seventh wheel while you all make googly eyes at each other?”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t be a seventh wheel, but you’d still be standing around with that stupid look on your face.”

  “Super.”

  “Hey,” Colton said, stalking into the kitchen with a laptop under one arm and a binder in the other. “What’s up?”

  “Welcome home. We’re still here. Noah was just bitching about not having a woman,” Dave said, cutting into the cheese.

  “Nope. I wasn’t—”

  “It’s that stupid look you always have on your face,” Colton said distractedly.

  Dave burst out laughing.

  “You guys should take that comedy show on the road,” Noah said dryly.

  Colton grinned. Clearly he’d heard part of the conversation while he was walking in. He set the laptop down on the island, then did the same with the binder. “What time is it?” he asked.

  Noah pulled out his phone as Dave glanced up at the oven clock, which was never the right time, something Dave never seemed to remember.

  “Six o’clock?” Dave said in confusion, turning so he could see the light through the window.

  “Four-oh-four,” Noah said, dropping his phone back into his pocket. Dave glanced back at the oven, as if in accusation.

  Colton nodded as he flipped open his computer. “I’m not ready for the grand opening.”

  “You’re plenty ready.” Noah glanced at the screen, seeing the computer model Colton had been working on forever.

  “I don’t feel at all ready.” He scratched his head. “Is Janie still up for doing the painting stuff? Because we’re ready for it.”

  “Yep.” Dave popped a cube of cheese into his mouth. “The mock-up designs for the murals are in your art room upstairs, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” Colton mumbled, shaking his head.

  “Dude, you just gotta relax.” Dave slapped his hands onto Colton’s shoulders and roughly shook and massaged at the same time. “You need to have faith.”

  “When is the grand opening?” Noah asked. The date had already been pushed back because of some vendor issue or other. It seemed that the closer it got to being ready, the more things went wrong.

  “End of January.” Colton flipped open the binder to a picture of the front. A large sign arched over the entrance to the parking lot. Off to the right, the mini-golf course’s miniature buildings rose into the air. “In probably the coldest part of the year. I can’t wait any longer, though. I need to start making money.”

  “This is California,” Noah said. “It doesn’t get that cold. It’ll be fine.”

  “The arcade is inside,” Dave reasoned. “And that place will be a draw all its own.”

  “The batting cages are mostly covered. I think someone without sense would try those out regardless of rain or cold,” Noah said.

  “Kids don’t have sense,” Dave said. “You’re all set.”

  “Yeah.” Colton sighed and straightened up. “Well, we’ll see what the girls have to say. I’ll be interested to get Kaylee’s view on it.”

  Kaylee was Ethan’s girlfriend of a few months and a rock star in all things related to operations. The tips and fixes she’d given Colton so far had seemed to make a big difference.

  “Cool. Well I’m just going to…” Noah paused, searching for something he could do for a few hours while waiting for the girls to get off work and arrive at Colton’s. He came up blank. “Watch more TV, I guess. When did my life get so boring?”

  “Hey!” Colton shifted his whole body toward Noah. Being that Colton was a large dude with a lot of power behind his movements, it was a sudden reaction that had Noah ready to throw a punch. He could thank his childhood boxing gym for that. “Did you say you were coming for Thanksgiving?”

  Noah released his breath and let his muscles relax. “You’re really worked up, bro. You need to dial it back.”

  Colton frowned at him. “I asked a simple question.”

  Dave started laughing. “The question was simple, that is true. Why are you so jumpy, Noah? An unhinged dude stacked with muscle suddenly turns toward you, and you panic?” Dave tsked and shook his head. “Better check those hair-trigger reactions, son.”

  Colton turned his frown on Dave.

  “I am not coming for Thanksgiving, no,” Noah said. “I’m headed to my parents’ next week. Should I write that down for you? This is the third time you’ve asked.”

  “Does it look like I give a shit about Thanksgiving with this looming over my head?” Colton gestured down at the binder.

  “Then why bring it up, pray tell?” Dave asked.

  Colton crossed to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “Location change. My sister is going to host it.”

  Noah sagged. Colton’s sister was good people, her kids were cute, their house was warm and inviting, and most importantly, Owen, Colton’s brother-in-law, was an executive chef at a five-star restaurant. He was magic in the kitchen.

  “Why wasn’t this mentioned before I gave in to my mother,” Noah muttered.

  “Oh shut up. As if you ever say no to your mom.” Dave rolled his eyes.

  It was true. Noah never did have the heart to turn down his mother when she
asked for something. Except…Owen was cooking. If there was ever a good reason to decline an invite, that was it.

  “I’ll text you updates about how good the food is.” Dave gave Noah a smug smile. “Maybe I’ll even send you pictures of myself enjoying it.”

  “You’re going?” Colton asked Dave.

  “Bro.” Dave stared at Colton. “You’re having some serious memory problems right now, and this is one thing you cannot get wrong. You’d better text Martha this second to tell her that Janie and I are coming.”

  Martha was Colton’s mother and mostly unbearable. Sweet lady, but opinionated and in everyone’s business at all times. But again…Owen was hosting. Martha was a small price to pay for that.

  “Whatever. It’s a potluck, anyway. My mom is working out the details.” Colton went back to the binder, the perpetual worried look on his face sliding back into place, and a smile worked up Noah’s face.

  “Suck it,” Noah said to Dave, heading to the fridge for a beer. “At my mom’s, I won’t have to help with anything, make anything, get anything for myself, or even do my own laundry. If Owen isn’t in charge of the menu, I win.”

  Dave thought for a moment before nodding decisively. “Noah, on second thought, I’m coming with you. Tell your mom to make up an extra room.”

  “What about Janie?” Noah asked, laughing.

  “Asking for two extra plates might get a negative answer. I don’t want to take my chances. Janie’ll be fine. She can fend for herself.”

  Noah popped his bottle, still chuckling. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “When are you leaving?” Colton said.

  “Monday. I’ll be there the whole week.” Noah took a seat at the island.

  “Jesus. I can’t believe Thanksgiving is next week. I am not ready.” Colton ran his fingers through his hair.

  Dave looked at the ceiling, a silent comment on Colton’s latest freak out. The guy was usually calm and collected. It wasn’t like him to be this manic. Then again, he had a lot of money invested in his new enterprise. He needed it to kick off well.

  None of that was Noah’s issue, though. No, Noah’s issue was his fast-approaching visit with his family. He’d have to dodge questions about what he did for a living, what he saw for his future, and how he had enough money for an expensive car, a luxurious house, and a rock-star stock portfolio. His dad was good at sniffing out bullshit. It was why Noah didn’t go home often. He was terrified that his father would find out his secret, and make a laughing stock of him. His family was full of powerful people who made good earnings the old-fashioned way. In offices. Hospitals. Courtrooms.

  Noah blew out a breath. Was it too late to cancel?

  * * *

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  * * *

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  Try the Please Series

  Check out the first book, Yes, Please!

  Synopsis:

  Mr. Carlisle is seeking an admin. Apply within...

  I'm way overqualified, but the economy doesn't care. After six months of job searching, I'm flat broke and mostly desperate. Rent is due in a week, my roommate sucks and is ready to toss me out, and I need an answer - fast!

  Nothing prepared me for the man in the suit...

  Not two steps into his office and my panties burst into flame. The word "handsome" doesn't do him justice. Lucifer would slap him a high-five.

  Clearly there is a reason he's the most eligible bachelor in town.

  The problem is, there's more to the job than just getting him coffee. Much more. Of the intimate variety.

  Two rules: No kissing. No falling in love.

  I can read right through all that malarkey - He's trying to push everyone away. He's trying to protect himself.

  I want to walk. To not care. But...something in me wonders what could've scarred him so badly that he needs to employ companionship.

  I’ll either save him…or he’ll ruin me…

  * * *

  Chapter One:

  I dodged a tourist on the busy sidewalk in downtown San Francisco. After stepping around another, I pushed through the glass door into the café before someone could bulldoze into me. The chill of the October day turned into lovely warmth as I did a quick sweep with my gaze. I noticed my friend immediately, sitting at the counter in the back with a book and a cup of coffee. It was hard to miss her. She had a shock of perfectly coiffured red hair falling in a loose curl to her mid-back. Her stylish clothes fit her body perfectly, accentuating her trim waist and natural curve. The latest in fashion, the knee-high boot on her left leg bounced slightly where it was gracefully draped over her right knee.

  I threaded through the bustling space, dodging a chair that unexpectedly jutted toward me as someone tried to get up. “Oh, sorry!” I said as I turned sideways to squeeze by.

  Kimberly looked up at the sound of my voice. She greeted me with a flawless smile and moved her Louis Vuitton handbag off the chair beside her.

  I’d met Kimberly during my freshman year in college. She had been a senior at the time and in the university’s program to get promising freshmen on the right track. Most freshmen met their assigned senior once or twice, and then continued on with their lives. I would’ve done the same, not wanting to bother her, but week after week she’d checked in. As the year passed by, she was always there, supporting me and giving advice. And she still was. Nothing changed when she graduated. We weren’t in the same social class and came from different backgrounds, but still she called me every week. She was sweet as well as beautiful, and I was thankful for her friendship.

  I pulled out the high seat and hoisted myself up into it. “Hi,” I said, laying the newspaper I was carrying on the counter and dropping my bag to the floor.

  “Don’t put it down there, it’ll get dirty!” Kimberly started to bend for my bag.

  I put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Kimberly, the thing is eight hundred years old, five shades lighter than when it was new, and probably dirtying the floor. It’s fine.”

  She crinkled her nose at me but didn’t argue. Instead, she glanced at the counter next to me. “Olivia, is that a newspaper?” Her incredulous gaze colored with humor. “Nineteen-eighty called—they want their communication device back.”

  I smiled as a server stopped by. The woman braced a pen to her green notepad. “Hi, what can I get for you?”

  My mind went to the bills sitting on my bookshelf. If the stack were any taller, Godzilla would try climbing it. “Just a coffee, please.”

  “Do you want something to eat?” Kimberly asked me.

  “Nah. I’m not hungry.” To punctuate my lie, my stomach rumbled.

  Kimberly looked at the server. “A turkey sandwich, no pickles, with a side of potato chips.”

  “You got it,” the woman said as she scribbled down the order and moved away.

  “When did you start eating meat?” I drummed my fingers on the counter to offset the sound of my stomach trying to tattle on me again.

  She dropped the menu behind a napkin dispenser, where it flopped against the salt and pepper shakers. “I don’t. But you’re hungry, and you hate asking for handouts. It’ll come, you’ll bitch, and then I’ll get to treat you to lunch. Just call me mastermind.”

  “Kimmy,” I whined, picking at the edge of the newspaper. I could feel the heat saturate my cheeks. Pale skin and easy embarrassment were a couple of life’s really cruel jokes. “You don’t need to buy me lunch!”

  “Oh, posh!” She snatched her phone off the counter, checked the screen, found no one had called or texted in the thirty seconds since she’d probably checked it last, and dropped it back down to the counter. “I got lucky and graduated when there were still jobs. I figure my luck will run out soon, and I’ll get laid off. By then, you should be working, and you better expect to buy me lunch. See? Just planning ahead. So…”

  She reached aroun
d me and grabbed the newspaper. “What are you doing with a newspaper? Old school. Why not look at Craigslist like everyone else?”

  I blew out a breath. “My computer died. Actually, not true—it comes on. I can hear it buzzing, but the screen stays black. The tech guy I know said it’d be about four hundred dollars to fix, and that I should just buy a new one. Which is a great idea—I’d love to have a new computer. I’d also love to have four hundred bucks.”

  Kimberly tsked. “I have a computer you could borrow—it’s old but it works. Robby bought me a new Mac.”

  Robby was Kimberly’s rich, handsome boyfriend who was about five seconds away from slapping a ring on her finger. She was a great catch, and he was smart enough to realize it.

  “Thanks! That’d be great. The library is fun and all, but my bedroom doesn’t have stinky people leaning against the back of my chair.”

  Kimberly grimaced and ruffled the newspaper open like a father in a 1950s sitcom. The smile dripped off her face as her brow crinkled. “Admin assistant?” She glanced up at me.

  I shrugged as my coffee arrived. I immediately reached for the creamer.

  “But you got a degree in computer science…” Kimberly looked down at the listing again. “Computer science pays well. This… The salary isn’t listed, but it can’t be much.”

  I dumped two packets of sugar into my coffee. My spoon clinked as it whirled around the cup. I took a sip. The scalding brew raked down my throat and set my esophagus on fire. I coughed and beat at my chest. It didn’t help. Eyes watering, I braced the counter until the heat dwindled.

  “You should blow on it,” Kimberly said.

  “Mastermind, indeed,” I wheezed. After the burn died away, I said, “I’ve been job hunting for six months, Kimberly. I started applying a month before I graduated, remember? A solid six months, too. No slacking. Out of applying for hundreds of positions, I’ve only gotten a handful of interviews. Then I always hear the same thing—the school I went to is impressive, my list of achievements are even more so, but I have no practical experience. Then I never hear from them again.”