“I used to do these allllll the time. I’m really good at them. These brought in the biggest tips!” she slurred.
“Wait...what? So, like how many…how many are we talkin’?” he asked delicately. “You were, uh, paid for…for…doing those?” That last word ended on a nervous high note, causing him to clear his throat as if that were the problem. No, the problem wasn’t his cracking timbre, or the joy blow jobs seemed to bring Molly. The problem was the stiff ridge in his jeans and that damn zipper rubbing against said ridge.
“Oh hundreds, maybe thousands! You’re going to love this!” She returned to the table shaking the can of whipped cream while snapping off the lid.
“Look, Molly…as tempting as this is, and believe me…it’s tempting,” he began, “I think…I think we should maybe just, you know. Not tonight. You’ve had a lot to drink,” he reasoned. “I’ve had some too…”
“Oh, come on! Don’t you trust me, Spangler? Just one. Do it for me! I promise you won’t regret it! It’ll be your new guilty pleasure,” she finished in a sultry, breathy tone.
“Well…” Was he really thinking about this? Of course he was, and the part about guilty pleasure had his jeans squeezing the life out of him. Hell yeah this would be his guilty pleasure. It was already his guilty fantasy. Just as he was ready to reply, she grabbed both bottles of alcohol and turned them upside down over each mug for a quick pour followed by a nice dollop of whip on each.
“A true blow job is in a shot glass and you have to drink it with no hands! It’s the most ridiculous thing ever,” she said, her quick pour getting all over the table before setting the awkward bottles down. “If you do it right, you have white stuff all over your face. It’s supposed to be…”
Realizing where she was going with this conversation, and that the blow job she was offering was nothing more than a drink, he cut her off before she could finish and make an awkward situation just that much more awkward by discussing the inevitable white stuff that comes with a blow job — both kinds. “Yeah, yeah! I get what it’s, uh…supposed to be.”
“Whoa, I think I might be getting a little buzzed here. Everything is warm, and I can’t even remember Evelyn Shirley’s name! Mission accomplisshhhed.” Her fist flew through the air again in victory just as her head went down to the table. “Geezzzz, this room is soooo spinny. I think we need a new table.”
That was his cue. Sadly, their time was up. Seth needed to do the gentlemanly thing and get her upstairs to her apartment where she would be safe and settled in before spinning turned into something worse that he’d inevitably have to clean up. They accomplished what they set out to do. By morning, they should see results worth reveling in when they logged into Facebook.
Seth left Molly, face down at the table, talking to herself about Evil Shirley, while he checked the lock on the front door, leaving only the lights above the coffee and check-out counter on. With his hand gently rubbing her back to rouse her, she finally lifted her head and smiled sweetly at him. Seth held her elbow, helping her to her feet. Her world must’ve been spinning because her feet couldn’t seem to find the ground and walking on her own looked like a distant memory. He swooped her up, cradling her head against his chest while her arms found their way around his neck. Right where they belonged.
Seth carried Molly up the winding stairs that led to her apartment above Reading Grounds, quickly finding the only bedroom in the large, wide open space. He rested her on the edge of her bed and began to remove her shoes. The boundaries were clear in most cases, but in this one, they were blurred. Was he to leave her jeans on? Her shirt? How would she be most comfortable?
As a firefighter, he was a caretaker and saw plenty of dressed and undressed victims requiring his help — he was a professional and never saw anything but a patient. Like the professional he was, Seth was able to separate his attraction to Molly from the situation at hand and follow his instincts that would let him take care of her. She needed him, and he knew that. But would she be able to see that for what it was when she was sober? That was where the lines began to blur. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass or offend her.
Without his prompting, she stood on unbalanced legs and started taking off her clothes as if he wasn’t even in the room. Seth started to turn and grant Molly’s privacy, but her balance, or lack thereof, got the better of her, and his arms were quickly around Molly, steadying her. She paused as Seth held her gaze, pondering whether to help, look away, or call someone. He could get lost in those rich brown eyes forever, he thought, before looking down so that inviting stare didn’t drag him in any further — which would have made him less than an honorable gentleman. He was being put to the test and intended to pass so there could potentially be more nights like this…sans alcohol.
Molly fumbled under her shirt with twisted arms that seemed to work better if she made a few matching faces. A few grunts later, she had a proud smile as she unhooked her bra, pulled it off through the sleeves of her Reading Grounds t-shirt like a skilled magician, and dropped it to the floor. Seth assumed she was being modest and planning to sleep in her shirt, given the contortionist act of removing her bra. He was wrong.
Seth let out a slow sigh and bit his bottom lip when Molly’s shirt flew over her head, revealing perfect, jaw-dropping breasts. Jesus Christ, Seth thought, look away before you finish what you didn’t even get to start…in your pants. Without hesitation, Molly started on her pants like Seth wasn’t even there. Or maybe she didn’t care that he was. Her jeans proved to be the ultimate drunken obstacle since her hands became an obvious ten pack of butterscotch and Bailey’s thumbs. Seth came to the rescue, as any good, selfless hero would, and helped her with the button, but drew the line there. It was already getting entirely too hot in there, and his chivalry had hard limits.
Molly slid her jeans down her legs slowly, a move so provocative and natural to her, Seth broke out in a sweat as he shifted his stance, trying to relieve the tight pull of his own jeans. She didn’t even have to try to be seductive, it was just who she was: beautiful, sensual Molly.
She began to sway when her jeans hit her ankles. She was struggling to step out of them, causing her to sit at the edge of her bed.
“Are you okay?” Seth asked, hands cradling her face.
“I…I don’t feel so well. I think I did too many blow jobs,” she replied in a small voice.
He chuckled at her casual reference, but felt bad about how much worse she was likely going to feel before she felt better. Seth could see it in her pale, rosy-cheeked face. He kissed the top of her head and knelt down to untangle her feet from the crumpled pool of jeans at her ankles. He had a good view of her pink lacey boy short panties that were a perfectly matching set to the bra piled at his feet. If only this were another night, he would have taken his time enjoying the view.
He was ready to walk away once he had her tucked in for the night, but his plan to leave changed when she shot up with a whimper. He turned to watch her stumble her way to the adjacent bathroom. Seth quickly moved behind her, so she made it safely to her destination, and held her hair when she finally got sick. He couldn’t leave her now — not tonight. She would need him. And he liked being needed.
With Molly finally back in bed, a cool rag resting on her head, Seth kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable in the corner chair, relaxing his feet on the matching ottoman. He assumed it to be her reading spot given the books and small light on the shelf next to it. The space even smelled like her. It wasn’t ideal, but it would serve as his bed for the night. He would be there if she needed him — he would take care of her.
CHAPTER 3
Bright, glaring light accompanied by an overwhelming drilling sound woke Molly the next morning. She grasped her head as she sat up while her stomach managed a flip-flopping gymnastics routine worthy of gold. Vague memories of booze and an old cranky woman assaulted her like being hit by a truck at full speed. The aches and pains that coursed through her body matched the scene in her head. H
oly shit, she thought, what happened to me?
Running her fingers through her mangy hair, Molly fought through the tangled warzone on top of her head. She tried to tame an awkwardly wound ponytail on the side of her head into submission when she noticed Seth. He was sound asleep in her corner reading chair. Shirtless. Palm to forehead, she let out a sobering sigh. She was remembering — everything.
Molly was relieved to find herself in bed alone, but it was a short-lived reprieve when she looked down to assess her appearance. The other half of her bed may have been empty, but she wasn’t dressed for company. Panic settled in as Molly realized what she was wearing — or what she wasn’t wearing — and firmly planted her face back in her hands as humiliation washed over her. She recalled the previous evening around their Facebook shenanigans, losing track somewhere around blow job and not picking things up again until just a few moments ago when she was silently cursing the sunny fall morning that forced her awake. She vaguely remembered getting ill, or at least feeling the need to, but everything else was a blur.
Blow job, she thought. Molly wasn’t the kind of girl to mess around for the sake of messing around. She also wasn’t the kind of girl to get drunk alone with a friend…who was male…and entirely too good looking for his own good. Seth was a good guy. She didn’t worry about him taking advantage of the situation, or her, for that matter. He was still here after all — sleeping in a chair no less — and a guy up to no good would’ve woken up in her bed with her or high-tailed it out of there after the finale.
Why was blow job at the forefront of her mind? Molly shook her head, searching for answers. Seth hadn’t taken advantage of her, she was sure of that, but what if he hadn’t had to? Awareness settled in, and she buried her face once again, hoping and praying she hadn’t acted like a cheap drunken floozy. Offering up the goods was something she could never undo.
Molly was plotting her escape from Pine Valley to avoid ever having to run into Seth again when her quiet moan was met with that knowing sensation. She was being watched. Her suspicion was confirmed by the deep, raspy voice in the corner. “Good morning. How do you feel?”
“Like I’m trying to die and can’t!” She pulled the blankets up a little higher, feeling a bit modest and painfully embarrassed.
His subtle chuckle was met with a shy grin as she watched him pull his shirt over his head, revealing the divine peaks and valleys of his chest and abdomen. Lord have mercy, he was hiding heaven under there. It triggered a slew of what ifs dancing around her imagination.
If they had done anything, however, would he really be sleeping half-dressed on the chair in the corner? Or would he be lying next to her wearing as little as she was? Or less?
That little voice that sat on her shoulder chimed in offering a sense of security with an idea she hadn’t even considered yet. Seth may not remember. If she was drunk to the point of losing twelve plus hours, he might have been too.
Molly’s nerves quickly converted to an odd sense of relief. There was hope in knowing if drunk Molly ventured to the wild side for a night of drunk naked shenanigans, drunk Seth may have joined her in mutual bad decisions. Then they could share their walk of shame…or whatever it was called in situations like this.
The embarrassment of what she may or may not have done in a drunken stupor must’ve been painted on her rosy cheeks. Or the awkward silence and looking everywhere but at Seth was the tell all. Or…maybe it was pulling the blanket in front of her and looking down at what lay beneath that told Seth where her mind was.
“We didn’t…you…didn’t…do anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he chimed in.
“I didn’t…we…didn’t…” She was shaking her head from side to side, unable to find the words to tactfully address what it was she was dancing around.
Seth shook his head to relieve her of her worry — her sudden shyness after such a bold night without a filter struck him as funny. He decided to let Molly off the hook rather than drag it out because he was pretty certain the hangover was going to be brutal enough.
“Oh good!” she said, clasping her chest, slouching with a sigh of relief. “I was so worried! I’ve never done that before. I mean I’ve done…that. Oh my God.” She paused to gather her thoughts, practicing that whole think before you speak thing. “I would have felt so bad if we — I mean, I wouldn’t feel bad about having…you know…with… Oh my… What I meant to say is I thought we had done…it, or at least done something, because I do remember something about blow jobs and if I did that…”
Seth’s smile faded to something like disappointment as she rambled through her thoughts out loud, confused and skewed as they were. Quick to dredge her way out of the hole she was digging for herself, she clarified, “I mean not that doing that…with you…would be bad, or…I mean, I would love to…well, what I mean is… I’m just not like that and don’t want you to think less of me if…well, you know!”
“I get it.” Seth chuckled, letting her off the hook. She may not be drunk still, but she was far from clear-headed sober. “And we didn’t. You did ask me if I wanted a blow job, though.”
Eyes wide, Molly covered her mouth to mute the loud gasp that erupted as the shock from his words struck her like a sharp bolt of lightning. “But you meant the drink. You kept your moral code intact, promise.” He winked.
“Oh my God! That’s why I can’t stop thinking about blow jobs!”
His laughter boomed, making her painfully aware of what she was spewing, confirming the part of her brain that thought up all the words was still heavily sodden in booze — booze clearly still talking on her behalf. Seth moved to Molly’s bedside and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, tilting her stare upward.
“Are you okay now? To be by yourself?” he asked sweetly.
Seth’s tender affection brought a smile to her face and a sudden warmth Molly didn’t recognize. She said in a small voice, “Yes, thank you.”
He bent down to her level, kissing the top of her head while his hand slid from her neck down her back. “Okay, good. I’ll catch you a bit later. Call if you need me.”
And he left.
After a slow start to her morning and her head feeling like it was tightly locked in a heavy vice, Molly finally made her way downstairs to her shop. There was already a steady morning flow of business — the coffee shop was full of customers and books were selling. All seemed right in the world despite the previous night’s escapades.
That was…until several gray heads could be seen around the large table in the rear corner. Cady and her posse, who else could it be? They were known to frequent Reading Grounds, but never on a Wednesday. Wednesday was bowling day. And bowling meant they took their usual gossip gathering to the bowling alley instead of Reading Grounds, Church, or any of their other weekday hot spot that filled their social calendars. Kind of like when they got together to play Bridge and Pinochle two nights a week, but it was really just another bitty brigade update mixed with an unofficial wine tasting or whiskey round up.
First order of business — a sobering cup of the strongest brew Molly could wrangle up. Then she’d need it to muster up some courage before wandering to the table to see what they were up to and why they were there on a non-book club day. Something told Molly there was more to this visit than a change in Wednesday venues. Despite being discreet, Pine Valley had a way of knowing things, and all Molly could focus on was that nagging inkling that the ladies knew something and they were there to rescue her from it. Lord have mercy.
Cady on her own was a handful. With her gray-haired ladies, they were a force Molly hoped one cup of strong joe was enough to manage. Like a fierce crime boss, Cady always sat at the head of the group surrounded by her loyal geriatric soldiers on either side of her. She would be intimidating with her sharp and edgy presence if not for her sweet and doting nature that came out when you least expected it, but desperately needed it.
“Hey, ladies, what brings you in today?” Molly questioned “Isn’t tod
ay typically the day you meet at Savory Sweets Bistro?” She pointed out the window. “You know…down the…road?”
“Have a seat, dear…” Cady said coldly, accompanied with a quick gesture to the seat at the opposite end of the table.
It suddenly felt like judgement day as Molly sat under the scrutinizing eyes of the jury that was to decide her fate in some catastrophic event or another. Cady and the ladies had been good to Molly, very good — treated her like family. But there was a side to this tight knit group you didn’t want to poke, and Molly hoped that wasn’t the side she was on today. Shit. Had evil Evelyn gotten to them?
“Okay…what’s up!” Molly shouted with excitement while tossing her arms out in an exaggerated attempt to derail her building anxiety.
“Honey, calm down,” Cady said with a side-eye. “We’re here to help,” Cady offered while Prissy read Cady’s mind and offered Molly a napkin. “And wipe the sweat from your brow, darling.”
These ladies worked in unison — like a perfectly oiled machine where each part always knew what the others were thinking and reacted accordingly — an almost creepy well-planned and practiced performance. It was either that, or they had frightening clairvoyant abilities that allowed them to share their thoughts and ideas to work in such a synchronized manner.
“You’ve done well, my dear. We’re quite proud of you and young Seth,” Cady said, her hands tented in front of her. The only thing missing from her stately monarchial-like presence was a hairless cat in her lap to stroke, and a butler at her side waiting to dab her mouth after each sip of coffee and reapply her bright cherry red lipstick. She was like the small-town godfather who ran the local booze trade.
“I…I don’t know what you mean?” Molly deluded, knowing full well what they were talking about. The new fake Facebook account targeting Evelyn Shirley. If there was anyone in town who knew as much or more as evil Evelyn, it was Cady O’Reilly and her senior mafia gang.
Sneaking Around Page 3