Four Letter Word

by J. Daniels

  I needed both, but I had two major fucking problems that could and were causing serious issues for me the longer I ignored them.

  First, Sydney was here, in motherfucking Dogwood Beach, where I could see her anytime I wanted, and I wanted.

  God, I wanted. It was torture denying myself.

  I saw her that night we first slipped over the line dividing friendship and more so I knew exactly what I was missing.

  Temptation personified, with luminous eyes, a killer fucking body, and hair that looked tangled and worked from my hands.

  I was concealed in the dark waiting for Jamie and Cole to handle whatever bullshit they felt was their business. I stood there growing impatient while the two of them dragged three strangely dressed women away from a beautiful vehicle any man would appreciate owning, even if they were like me and didn’t give a shit about sports cars.

  I called out when I was ready to move the fuck on and find out where Syd was, which in hindsight was pretty damn ironic. All heads turned in my direction but I focused on one, not only because of the weird as hell getup she was wearing, but also because she had a body I knew would look damn good in anything, including the weird as hell getup she was wearing, had eyes that practically swallowed me up they were so wide and wondering, and red hair I immediately pictured belonging to someone else.

  I continued picturing this until my girl leveled me with information I was half wishing I never knew.

  My life would be a lot fucking easier, that was for damn sure.

  But I knew it now, and there was no giving it back.

  And what I knew had me fighting it every second and with every breath I took.

  I wanted to go to Whitecaps and watch her, see and study her in the daylight.

  I wanted to be close enough to count the freckles I knew spotted her nose and admire the moles she hated, press my lips to them and tell her they were mine and they were beautiful.

  I wanted to fuck her discreetly or in public, bend her over one of the tables she was waiting on because I couldn’t wait a second longer to get inside her tight wet pussy, live out every lewd act we’d confessed and finally satisfy the hunger that itched in my veins and watered my mouth.

  Taste and touch and suck and fuck. I wanted to do everything.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. She was right in front of me, a mere ten minutes from my store and fifteen from my house, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  She watched porn, not heavily but she did on occasion watch it, a fear I had confirmed two nights ago when I got the balls to ask her straight out, thinking we could go ahead and breach the topic since I’d just made her come by explaining in detail all the ways I wanted to fuck her.

  Tits. Mouth. Cunt. Ass.

  Not much seemed off-limits now.

  I didn’t ask which ones or what sites she visited. I didn’t want to bring any more attention to it, and honest to God, I was afraid she’d elaborate and give me shit I didn’t want to hear like who her favorite porn stars were or what titles got her off the most.

  If it was me or one of mine, this would be over. I knew that.

  I’d eventually break and go see her at work, reveal who I was and watch her rip everything we had away from me.

  I could only fight this for so long.

  If it wasn’t and I knew the fuckers, or hell, even if I didn’t, I’d find them and wind up in jail for assault.

  So here I was, stuck. I couldn’t do anything.

  Torture.

  I hadn’t known the definition of the word until three days ago. Now I was living it.

  There was something else, too, another fucking problem I was dealing with, only this one I could deal with. I could manage it.

  And that was exactly what I was doing strolling into Xstasy on a day I didn’t need to be there.

  Shit had changed. There was no going back to the innocence we shared before. Syd and I both knew that.

  But I had obligations. Guilt I couldn’t turn away from.

  I also had a plan.

  I crossed the dank studio on Tuesday afternoon, using my lunchtime to handle this shit after Jamie had returned to Wax following his lesson, my eyes locked ahead of me on the office door and my ears indifferent to the crude noises echoing off the walls and ceiling.

  I fucking hated this place.

  I knocked twice and waited to enter only when I heard the go-ahead. Getting that, I pushed inside.

  Mike was sitting behind a metal desk littered with papers. Across from him perched on the edge of her seat sat a young blond woman, face coated in a thick layer of makeup and tits pushed up and in.

  I didn’t recognize her. She must’ve been new. I knew all the girls.

  Her eyes moved to me and widened in favor.

  I looked from her to Mike and tipped my head, asking, “Got a minute?”

  He grinned like the Joker.

  “For the man responsible for lining my pockets with enough cash my ex-wife has shut the fuck up about the child support I owe her and is currently all over my dick, keeping it wet ’cause she wants me to buy her new titties for Christmas?” He slung his feet up on the desk and linked his hands behind his head, leaning back and doing it still grinning. “Fuck yeah, you can have a minute. Sit down, Dash.” His eyes trailed to the woman as she slowly stood. “Talk later, sweetheart. I’ll call you.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mike.”

  I stepped aside so she could slide around me and get to the door.

  Her hand grazed my hip as she moved.

  I knew it was done deliberately. She had plenty of space to get past. I made sure of that.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered with sex and opportunity in her voice, batting her lashes before turning and stepping out.

  The door shut behind her.

  I slumped down in the chair she’d vacated and rubbed at my face.

  Mike chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Jesus Christ. How much pussy does your dick see on a daily basis? Shit, man.” He looked at the door, then back at me. “You wanna work with her, ’cause I can make that happen. She’s interested in the job. Very interested. Willing to do anything. I can arrange it so you’re the one breaking her in.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “You sure? I offered eighteen-year-old virgin ass to Shane, he’d be all over it.”

  “Then offer it to him,” I growled, driving home my point. “I’m not interested.”

  Mike dropped his arms to the chair and shrugged.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Need to talk to you about something.”

  “Figured that’s why you were here. What is it?”

  I pulled in a deep breath and sat my right ankle on my knee.

  “I want to switch to solos starting immediately,” I informed him. “Just me and the camera. None of your girls. I’m done with that. And I want to make close to what I’m making now.”

  Mike gaped at me, didn’t blink for what felt like a solid minute, then started cackling like he’d just been told the funniest shit he’d ever heard in his life, head thrown back and hand slapping his thigh repeatedly.

  I stared at him and didn’t even crack a smile.

  After longer than I had patience for, he righted himself and stared back, taking notice of my annoyance.

  “You serious?” He suddenly looked affronted.

  “Very.”

  His expression hardened as his eyes narrowed.

  “You, Dash Savage, Internet sensation and the biggest fucking draw I have here, bringing me more traffic than two of my other fucking stars combined, want to keep your dick to yourself all of a sudden and jerk it on camera. That what you’re telling me?”

  “Yep.”

  “No fucking way,” he scoffed. “Your videos get the most hits because of you and the way you fuck, Dash. Not how you pull your taffy. Jerk off on your own time. I’m not paying for it.”

  I’d expected this reaction from Mike. He w
as a transparent piece of shit on a good day, and I was prepared for it.

  I smiled and flicked the laces on my shoe.

  “The hell you smiling at? I said no.”

  “You’ll say yes,” I countered. “This isn’t negotiable.”

  Mike pulled his feet off the desk and dropped them to the floor, propped his elbows on whatever papers he had in front of him, and glared at me.

  “Say again?”

  I glared, too, but did it still smiling, repeating slower this time so he wouldn’t fucking miss it.

  “You’ll say yes. This isn’t negotiable.”

  “And how the fuck do you figure that?”

  “You said it yourself. I’m the biggest fucking draw you got here. Things are good with your ex and you wanna keep it that way, meaning you gotta keep pulling in the kind of bank you’re pulling in now. That won’t happen when I walk.” I leaned forward then, mimicking his position with my elbows on my knees, then continued, “And I will walk. You don’t agree to this, I’m done with Xstasy. Give you another two, three months before your ex realizes she won’t be getting her Christmas present, hops off your dick, and gets in front of a judge. How many kids you got, Mike? Three?” I shook my head. “Two years of not paying a dime for them, I’m guessing your pockets are gonna be emptying pretty fucking fast.”

  Mike smirked.

  I fucking hated him.

  “You’re forgetting all the uploads I already have of you, Dash. That one of you and Jayden got over ten thousand hits.”

  “Yeah. The day you streamed it. How many hits it get yesterday?”

  He lost his smirk.

  I cocked my head and explained to the idiot, “Depreciation. Shit’s only hot when everyone who subscribed got notice of the stream and logged on. Stayed hot for a few days thanks to word of mouth. Now?”

  I let that question hang in the air between us.

  I knew the answer. So did Mike, based on the agitation shadowing his face.

  He was barely making jack-shit off dated uploads. Nothing compared to the new stuff. It was why he always pushed getting me here every chance he got.

  I had a motive, giving that kid as much money as possible. That’s the only reason I obliged him.

  Otherwise I would’ve told him to fuck off.

  “See you’re understanding me now,” I said after he refused to offer up the answer, knowing I’d like what he told me. “You wanna keep me here? Keep pulling in the kind of money you need to be pulling in? You’re gonna let me switch to solos and pay me close to what I was making already.”

  “How close are we talking?” he snarled.

  The shit bag was pissed.

  Too bad I didn’t give a fuck.

  I leaned back and stretched my legs, replying, “Six.”

  “Six,” he repeated as he cracked his knuckle. Laughter built in his throat and erupted on a breath. “You want me to pay you six hundred dollars to step in front of a camera and whack off when I was paying you eight to fuck someone? Do I look like an idiot to you, Dash?”

  I smiled.

  “Absolutely.”

  Mike didn’t find any humor in my response. If anything, I think it pissed him off even more.

  Again, I really didn’t give a fuck.

  I was taking a pay cut but I really wasn’t if I played this how I was planning on playing it, coming in on my terms and filming more than I had been. It’d be just me, so I wouldn’t have to wait on a call when Mike had a girl lined up, and I was jerking off every day at this rate anyway, so what the fuck?

  This would work.

  Mike wasn’t as enthusiastic about the change as I was. His eyes darkened.

  Flashing a smile, I reminded him, “Biggest pull you got.”

  I watched him breathe tight through his nose and shake his head.

  “Fuck,” he growled, shoving papers off his desk before slamming himself back in his chair.

  He pulled out a pack of smokes and stuck one in his mouth, smacking his pockets looking for a lighter.

  “You’re an asshole, man,” he mumbled around the cigarette, lit it, then took a drag. “Get the fuck out before I start giving a shit about my kids and tell you where you can shove this new arrangement.”

  I stood up and turned, ignoring his pathetic little tantrum, and walked over the scraps of white and yellow that had floated to the cement, heading for the door.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow to shoot. After six sometime,” I told him behind my back.

  “Whatever.”

  I slammed the door shut.

  Yeah, Mike was pissed. And yeah, I still didn’t give a fuck. I belonged to someone. This girl fucking had me.

  Craziest shit I’d ever felt.

  She didn’t know it. She might not ever know it, but the second this changed between us, the night Sydney gave herself to me in a way I will never fucking let go of, that was it.

  Fucking it.

  She came.

  And I was a fucking goner.

  I wouldn’t give Syd what I was giving her now and have this shit going on behind her back. Fuck no. Never.

  No matter if she found out about this or not, I wouldn’t betray her like that. I wouldn’t taint what we had or spit on what she gave me.

  It was everything. From the start, from that first mistaken phone call, it was everything.

  Everything I had and wanted and needed.

  I’d do this new arrangement and get the cash for the kid, help his family the way I needed to be helping them, and I’d have my girl in my ear at night.

  Fuck yeah. This would work.

  It had to. I didn’t have any other options.

  * * *

  Balancing the two boxes on one hand, I took to knocking after ringing the doorbell once and not getting an answer, hoping the pounding of my fist would grab someone’s attention.

  It did.

  The door swung open seconds later.

  A round face with big brown eyes framed in blue glasses and freshly bathed hair, wet and wild looking, drew my attention down from where it was fixed to greet my sister.

  Oliver, my nephew, filled the doorway instead, standing in his Star Wars pajamas and the dog slippers he got for Christmas last year.

  “Hey, Uncle Brian,” he greeted me with his crooked smile, then immediately slid his eyes to the boxes in my hand, where they went wide and stayed wide as he pumped his fists in the air and jumped up and down, chanting, “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!”

  “Pizza?”

  I heard another little voice calling from inside the house, then not two seconds later Olivia came rushing up to stand beside her brother, grinned big when she saw me and even bigger when she saw the pizza boxes I was carrying, pumped her fists in the air but did it by alternating them in time with her knees drawing up as she bounced from one dog-slippered foot to the other, also chanting, “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!”

  “You guys eat yet?” I asked over their chanting, stepped inside, and closed the door behind me.

  “Nope! Momma’s making a roast and it smells like feet. We don’t want it,” Oliver answered, scrunching up his nose after.

  I kept my laugh silent.

  “Feet?”

  “It really does, Uncle Brian,” Olivia assured me, reaching out and tugging on the bottom of my shirt. Her hair was wet, too, and fell in two long braids past her shoulders, making damp spots on her flower-covered pajamas. “Can’t you smell it? She put onions in there and those green things we don’t even like! She’s trying to poison us.”

  “Now we’re having pizza.”

  Oliver held up his hand and his twin high-fived him.

  “Yes!” Olivia whispered excitedly.

  They were seven. Got along great for siblings, which I figured had to do with them being twins and sharing something regular siblings didn’t share.

  Regular siblings fought, at least occasionally. These two didn’t. Siblings also liked having breaks from each other, alone time, but not Oliver and Olivia. They mourned each other if
they were ever apart. Even for a night.

  My sister Jenna moved into the room then from the direction of the kitchen, wearing an apron and wiping her hands off on a towel.

  “Uncle Brian brought us pizza, Mom!” Olivia shrieked, pushing her matching blue glasses up her nose when they started sliding down. “Can we have it?”

  “But I made roast,” Jenna replied, watching both kids drop their heads. She gave me a wink, then shifted her gaze between the two of them. “Yes, we can have it. I’ll save the roast for tomorrow.”

  “Yes!” Oliver pumped his fist into the air, then spun around and took the boxes from me.

  Olivia followed behind him into the kitchen, hooting and hollering.

  “Big brother,” Jenna greeted me, coming over for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  She was two years younger than me, which kept us tight growing up, petite like our mother and barely came up to my chin. Her dark hair tickled my jaw as she squeezed my waist.

  “You, too,” I said, reciprocating the affection. “Figured I’d bring food since I haven’t made it over in a while.” I gave her an apologetic look as she pulled away. “Sorry. Work shit.”

  I was including getting called to Xstasy in the “work shit” excuse. There was nothing shit about Wax, and nothing Wax related ever kept me from coming over here.

  “It’s okay. I get it. I’m just happy you’re here now.” She gave me a smile. “Come on. Let’s eat before the two of them put all that food away and leave us with nothing but roast that apparently smells like feet.”

  Laughing, I followed behind Jenna and got some of the pizza.

  After dinner and cleanup, I stood in the kitchen while Oliver and Olivia played the Wii in the living room.

  Jenna was putting away the roast and the vegetables now that they were completely cooled, and she was doing this after warning her kids they’d be having roast and Brussels sprouts for dinner tomorrow.

  Bellies full of pizza and soda, they didn’t give her any lip over it.

  I stood with my hip to the counter finishing off the last of my second Coke, taking in the surroundings of my sister’s small but cozy apartment and the two kids in the other room, absorbing their laughter and triumphant squeals when she nudged my side.