by Rue, Rebekah
“I need a break. I’m going to Zumba.”
“No, no, no.” Talon shakes a finger. “As your friend, I’m not going to let you get caught doing that. Zumba is for sissies. Come with me.”
I really didn’t have a choice since he still had a firm hold on my arm, pulling me across the gym. For punishment, Talon makes me do fifty burpees, fifty air squats, and run a mile on the treadmill. As God is my witness, I will never try to go to Zumba again. By the time we finish, my whole body is quivering from fatigue. I can barely walk. Talon helps me off the treadmill, throwing an arm around my waist to support me.
“We need to hit the sauna first, and then we’ll head home.”
I study him, dissecting his words. “You mean you’ll take me home? I don’t think I can take any more of your torture.”
He considers me with a crooked smile. “You’re cute being tortured, so maybe. Go get ready.”
The sauna is just what I need. Wrapped in only a towel, half naked, I feel vulnerable, and the thought of being around him like this sends a thrill down my center. I stumble up to the door and peek in through the tiny window. For a brief moment, I indulge in the sight of a sweaty, shirtless Talon. His head is resting back with his eyes closed. Broad rounded shoulders and thick corded arms lie out on the bench seat above. A half-empty water bottle loosely rests in his hand, and raw well-defined six-pack abs contract and relax with each breath. His skin is flushed and peppered with hundreds of tiny sweat beads, which moisten his forehead, chest, and stomach. One of the solid drops can’t hang on any longer, and it falls, shifting paths, weaving through the dark hairs on his happy trail, all to get caught in one of the sharp cuts on his hip that descend into his towel. Hmm . . . What do things look like under that towel? I swallow hard, conjuring up even the tiniest drop of saliva ineffectively. Taking a swig of my water, I stroke my tongue and lips around the rim of my water bottle envisioning . . . No, no, no, no, no. What is wrong with me? Now I’m acting all hormonal. I’m no better than any of those other girls hoping for an inch of his attention. Plus, we’re not like that.
That’s when Talon notices me through the thick steam and motions with a finger to come to him. My stomach fills with kamikaze pilots and my feet reluctantly move. It’s hard to admit, but over the past few weeks, I’ve developed feelings for him. Though, I would never act on those feelings. He is charming, funny, and always around. He makes me smile again. My mantra is never date the bad boys, the tattooed, or the assholes, and Talon is all three.
When the door opens, the heat hits me in the face, disguising the flush of my cheeks I’d developed gazing at him through the tiny window. As calmly as possible, I take a seat next to him. An odd expression that I can’t read flashes across his face, and he reaches up and rubs a hand over his short hair a couple of times, swallowing hard.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Sore, no thanks to you.”
A satisfying smile slowly spreads across his face. Pointing a finger down to my feet, he gestures. “Give them to me.” I scrutinize his outstretched hand and hesitate.
“For fuck’s sake, Lo”—he reaches down and grabs my ankle—“I’m rubbing your feet, not rubbing one out on you.”
I suck a quick breath in shock at his abruptness.
“Now close your eyes and relax.”
“You’re so bossy.” I’m smiling, relaxing back as best I can, with both my arms stretched out on the back ledge. Gently resting my head against the upper bench, I let my eyes close.
Starting at the heel, Talon rubs deep in long strokes, using his thumbs to apply just the right amount of pressure. He slides both of his large thumbs up the center arch, kneading the ball of my foot and toes. I flinch and pull back when he hits a tender spot, but he notices and does this strange circular kneading trick that loosens it all up. He repeats that over and over until I’m so relaxed I’m sleepy mush.
“Mm . . . this feels really good.”
He pauses for a split second before speaking in a deep raspy voice “Good, huh? We can head home. I would love to give your body the full rubdown. Use me. I’ll do as you wish.”
“God, I’d love that.”
“So would I.”
I can feel myself falling, which is easy to do with him. Wait! What am I saying? Pushing back the feel-good haze, I sit up. “Talon, you can’t say stuff like that to me.”
“What’d I say?”
“You spew these sexy remarks without even thinking.”
“I’m sorry. My intention isn’t to make you feel uncomfortable. You know I’m not very good at this friends-with-girls shit. I promise from now on I’ll be on my best behavior. Deal?” He sticks out his hand for me to shake.
I can’t keep myself from smiling, shaking his hand. He is too irresistible. “Deal. Now take us home and make me one of those awesome greasy breakfast sandwiches so I can put some fat back in me.”
“I’ll give you something fat alright to put in you.” He laughs.
“Talon!!!”
“Sorry, last time, promise.” His amusement and laughter light up his face.
The awkward moment minutes ago quickly passes. We’ll see if Talon will make good on his promise.
An hour and a half later I’m dropped back off at my apartment with a full stomach and a promise to see me tonight at Wrecker’s Field. It’s only 1:00 p.m. I have several hours to kill. Hearing my phone chirp, I check it.
Maggie: Be home soon. I’ve got big news.
Lo: K.
After my shower, I’m in our small laundry room, sorting and loading clothes, when Hurricane Maggie comes blowing through the front door.
“Hey bestie, did you sleep in this late?” she says, noticing the towel covering my head.
“No, I just got back from the gym.”
“With Talon?”
My simple nod answers for me.
“You guys sure do spend a lot of time together.”
“Yep, friends do that.”
“Weird.” She pauses, thinking that over. Then like the wind, her thought is gone. “Any who, I forgot to tell you. It must have slipped my mind, but my brother Micah is moving to town. The law firm he wanted to get a job at has hired him on as their newest partner.”
“Wow! Congratulations. I haven’t seen him in what . . . three, maybe four years?”
She nods. “I told him he can crash with us until he locks down a place of his own. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not, he’s your brother, and it’s not like a completely random guy will be living with us.”
“Well, good, thanks for being so cool about it.”
I close the washing machine door, add some soap, and push the start button. Nothing. Huh.
I bang the top with my fist a couple times, nothing.
Turning, I peer at Maggie. “Have you had any problems with this thing?”
Maggie’s mouth pulls up on one side. “Oh yeah, that’s the other thing I forgot to tell you. Washer took a shit. Sorry.” Not appearing sorry at all, she pushes up from the door frame. “I have the repairman coming out in a couple of days.”
A couple of days! “What am I going to do till then!”
She shrugs her petite shoulder and smiles like the devil. “Maybe you should call your new BFF. I bet he’ll let you use his washing machine.” She taps the heel of her hand twice on the door frame, turns, and walks away, laughing.
“I hate you, you know that,” I yell.
“Most girls do.”
Sighing didn’t fix my problem, but it felt good. I’m on my last pair of underwear and have no decent clean clothes to wear. Grudgingly, I pull out my phone and shoot Talon a quick text.
Lo: Damsel in distress in need of clean clothes. Can I use your washing machine?
A second later, Talon responds.
Talon: Well, we can’t have you going naked. You’d scare all the boys away.
Lo: Ha, ha, wise ass, now there’s a thought. Maybe it will make you disappear.
/> Talon: Ha! The only things that will disappear are my clothes from the waist down.
Lo: Ew, stop.
Talon: Don’t play innocent. Be there in fifteen. Be ready.
Lo: K
Placing all my dirty laundry back into the hamper, I’m glad Talon has a truck so he won’t be sniffing my stink. True to his word, he knocks on my door fifteen minutes later. Shooting a quick good-bye to Maggie, he helps me carry my soap and dirty laundry basket down to the car with ease. Yeah . . . car, not truck. It just keeps getting better.
Talon pops the trunk, placing all my crap in the back. I stop in my tracks. It’s the mean car from the first night, except now it isn’t so scary. It’s beautiful; the designs are intricately painted to perfection. A work of art. Walking up to it, I trail my fingers across its flawless glossy black body. “Wow, Talon, she is really beautiful.”
Stepping to my side, he opens the passenger door. Without prompt, I slide down across the smooth black leather bucket seat outlined in neon green stitching.
“Yeah, she’s a gem, makes a lot of things happen for me.”
Yeah, like all the blowjobs and easy pussy, probably in this very seat I’m sitting in.
Talon closes my door, circling around the front of the hood and gets comfortable in the driver’s seat. When he turns on the car, the sensation is like no other. The back of the seat feels like what I imagine Talon’s arms would feel like wrapped around me: warm, strong, and secure. The seat hums, hitting me right where I want it. I could just sit still and let the vibrations take me over the edge. I’m in desperate need of a session with “GOD,” my trustworthy, handsome, never-leave-you-for-a-hotter-woman vibrator. Hey, if I’m going to call a name out, it might as well be accurate. Keeping my lips shut, I fight from releasing a moan.
“Are you okay?”
Tensing, I glance over. Talon is staring at me from across the center console, left hand casually resting on the top of the steering wheel probing me with those deep eyes. Letting off an odd laugh, I squeak, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Noticing my voice is a couple octaves higher, I shoot him a sweet smile.
He gives me a strange look and nods an okay, putting my wet dream in reverse.
Talon’s house is quiet most times I’m over. Stone is gone a lot during the week. He’s a mechanic down at Lady Parts, Sasha’s auto garage. A lot of the guys in our Friday night scene can be found just hanging out or working on their rides.
It takes several hours to finish up all my laundry. Talon keeps me company, making me laugh, and even helps organize and fold. My intimate apparel is strategically kept out of sight to him. Completely exhausted, we pull together an easy dinner consisting of tossed salad with chopped-up chicken breast on top and seat ourselves on the couch in front of the TV.
“What do you like to watch?” he asks in between bites.
“Lately, I’ve been addicted to those jail shows.”
“Jail shows it is, then,” he says, pointing the remote at the TV.
Eating together with Talon feels so easy and normal. It makes me wonder why he chose his method with women and why he lets me see this rare side. Rumor circled it was because of his childhood, but never any conformation. And frankly I’m too chicken to ask. Who wouldn’t want that companionship or a family to love you dearly? God knows I miss mine terribly. I squeeze my eyes tightly to stop the onset of tears.
“Ya know you could do that,” he says, using his fork to point at the screen.
“Do what?” Not really focused on the TV, too lost in my thoughts, I look up to see what he’s talking about. A provocatively dressed prostitute is soliciting sex on the street corner to a man in a creepy minivan. Confusion laces my voice. “Be a prostitute?”
“Yeah . . . no, oh hell, I mean you could do what that chick is doing. You’re so beautiful you wouldn’t have any problem luring every man within a hundred-mile radius. The police force would have its secret weapon.”
I don’t say anything back, and Talon doesn’t seem to notice. Did he really just say I’m beautiful? He usually doesn’t do a lot of flirting, and I’m sure he means nothing by it, but this doesn’t keep me from smiling inside. With each non-friend comment Talon makes, our hangout sessions are a little less chill and a little more heated. My fear is the flirting will turn to touching, the touching will turn to kissing, the kissing will turn to screwing, and then, poof . . . we’re no longer friends. So I have to keep him backed in that special corner, never reacting or giving him fuel for his fire. “Would you mind taking me home so I can start getting ready?”
Casually leaning back, he pushes his plate away and peers at me. “Why don’t you just stay and you can ride with me to the field later?”
“I’m not going like this.” I motion to the dirty clothes I’m wearing.
“You don’t have to. All your clothes are here. Change into something hot, fluff your hair or whatever shit girls do, and we’ll go.”
I purse my lips and think it over. It is a good idea. I’ll text Maggie to let her know the plans and meet up with her there. Problem solved.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“That thing you’re doing with your lips. Cut it out unless you want to become my official knob polisher too.” There’s another playful hit. Fine, but I’m hitting back.
Releasing a soft giggle, I bite my lower lip seductively. Talon’s eyes light up and I hear him whisper, “Damn tease.” When my tongue slowly swipes across my lower lip, his eyes follow and his features go crazy. I’m small but fast, so when Talon lunges at me, I take off like a bunny, running up the stairs. He’s hot on my tail, so I throw myself into his room, slamming and locking the door behind me.
Bang, bang, bang. “You’re one lucky little temptress. Your ass cheek would have paid the price for that little stunt,” he taunts through the door.
I’m laughing so hard I can’t speak. “Better luck next time, big boy.”
Chapter 7
Lo
The scene at Wreckers Field is very much the same as the first night I came. It’s not pitch black out yet, but the sun is barely hanging onto the horizon. Cars are already lined up in order to race. Just like before, groups are clumped together in front of their vehicles. Sexy women are grazing, looking for that perfect male ego to stroke tonight, among other things. Talon and I both get out. He walks around the front of the car and stops in front of me. Without any thought, as if it’s natural, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, placing a sweet peck on the soft part of my inner wrist while holding my stare.
“I’m going to catch up with some people and enter a couple of heats. I’ll meet up with you later, k?” he murmurs.
Robotically, I nod and he gives my chin a smooth touch before walking away.
My hand finds my stomach and the silly feeling in my gut feels good. Besides small touches or half hugs, we never show affection like this, especially around anyone else. Maggie spots me from afar and shoots me a text, letting me know where she is.
The whole group is there with a few add-ons.
“What’s up with your outfit?” Maggie snarls.
I look down. My hair is pulled over my shoulder in a messy side braid. I’m wearing a lightweight gray Nike hoodie that is long enough to cover half of my butt, jeggings and simple black flip-flops.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Have you forgotten we live in Florida?”
I just shrug, blowing her off. “Talon made me change three times before approving my clothes.”
“What?” a chorus of people say. I didn’t realize everyone was listening.
“That’s crazy!” Maggie shouts.
“He said the mosquitos could be bad.”
Are those crazy eyes she’s giving me? Whatever.
A commandingly loud noise of a train horn breaks everyone from what they’re doing. In the center of the yard is a mega Ford F-650 with chrome stack exhaust pipes smoking from both sides. The under carriage is painted flawlessly to match the s
leek black-and-orange body. By far the biggest truck I’ve ever seen, colossal and mean describe it well. The man standing in the center of its bed exhibits the same characteristics. Holding a stack of cash, he is clearly the ring leader running this operation. “Bring it in,” he yells. Everyone seems to listen, forming a huge circle. “Welcome to the duel. I am Duce. If you’re entering a race, you come to me. If you’re placing wagers, you come to me. Got it? Now here’s how this is going to work. Once your car has been assigned a number and is called, you will position it behind this painted line. We’ll race in heats two at a time. The last two standing will battle it out for all the booty.” Duce let out a small laugh. “Betting ends the second the front tires touch the starting line. Let me warn you. You must stay behind this spray-painted line.” He points to the ground, using his stack of bills. “Not doing so will get your ass killed, and ain’t nobody wants to clean up a mangled motherfucker. We’re here to cut loose, not to get the popo called on us. Good luck. Heats are open.” Duce jumps down from his truck and immediately starts exchanging money and organizing races.
Finn, with the voice of a typical surfer, speaks up. “Dude, T’s birthday is coming up next weekend. Is he doing that massive blowout as he did last year?”
Sasha pipes in, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Stone was bragging how he can’t wait to bring in the Jell-O-wrestling pit.”
“Well, I’ll definitely be there. His birthday parties are mad sick! Women, alcohol”—he pauses—“dude, what else do you need?”
Really, I can do without both, but I would never miss Talon’s birthday.
“Awesome! This gives Lo and me a good excuse to go shopping,” Maggie says, wrapping an arm around me, smiling.
Maggie catches on to my zero-excitement expression. I mean just recently I acquired a new group of friends outside my secluded family life. It’s a little overwhelming.
“Come on, Lo. You know you need a new bikini! Plus, you know hot guys will be there. Last year, it was one of the times I hooked up with Stone. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but what I’m saying is this: guys, great food, and swimming. It’s a blast!”