by JJ Knight
My jealousy for this unknown woman burns hard. But Max is only a client. He only came because I asked to see his tan.
And yet, he did give me that kiss.
“Ready for a sandwich?” he asks. “I see an empty picnic table calling our name.”
“Of course,” I say. “Thank you for bringing it.”
“Anything for my tanning expert.”
I follow him to his car, trying to force down my feelings.
That’s what I am. His service provider.
For now, it will have to be enough.
13
Max
During workouts over the next few days, Franklin and I avoid the topic of his sister.
He doesn’t ask if I’m doing more tans with her.
And I don’t volunteer any information.
Particularly the part where I always seem to rise to the occasion.
And we’re doing more tans. Over sandwiches at a picnic table in the park, Camryn and I worked out the ideal schedule leading up to next Saturday’s competition.
She was a total pro, talking about optimum timing and moisturizing regimens like I was any other client on her list.
Despite her demand of a kiss earlier, she was all business.
I’ll bide my time.
As I move through the days until I can see her again, I try out her recommended loofah in the shower, remembering when she used it on me in her apartment. Just the image of her gets me rock hard. I have no hope I’ll control my cock on the next tan any better than I did before.
Some things you have to let go.
I’ll see her three times this week. Tan one on Tuesday for the new base, tan two on Thursday to get it deeper.
You caught that, right?
I thought so.
We Pickles like our puns.
Then there’s the final competition tan on Saturday morning at the crack of dawn. I’ll be dressed for that one. I know not to take off my trunks after the Ride ‘em Shiny disaster.
Not that leaving them on helped me resist the effect Camryn has on me.
By Monday night, I’m home alone and feeling overwhelmed at the mere thought of her. Those pale shoulders in that ruffled shirt she wore to the park. Her hair spilling down her back, then billowing out in the wind as she rode the swing. It had taken all my self control to kiss her lightly, and not consume her.
But right now, alone on my bed after a long day, I let the fantasies run loose. The offending member is in my hand, and I dive into all the thoughts of her I’ve collected since we met.
In this one, we’re back in her apartment, the colorful art all around. And it’s Camryn who’s stripping down. I watch every bit of her body be revealed, lustrous, and soft. I rub her with lotion, my hands everywhere. I shift her hair away to press my lips to a sensitive spot on the back of her neck.
I stroke harder as I imagine her naked walk to the tent, admiring the perfect round ass I’ve only seen in yoga pants and jeans. She turns to look at me, her hair falling in a wave, one pert breast peeking out.
“Front or back?” she asks.
“Front.”
She lifts her arms, twisting her hair on top of her head. Her breasts are uplifted, and she is completely naked for me to admire. I groan out loud, imagining every inch of her on display, her knowing smile, those long lashes.
My cock is so hot and hard. I imagine turning on the spray and watching her nipples pucker in the cold. She lifts her chin, eyes closed, letting out a sigh as I spray her. And that’s it, the fantasy creates a real-life reaction as I let loose.
I fall back on my cold pillow. Shit. I’ve got it bad. And while I might’ve gotten crazy with my thoughts here alone in my apartment, I’ll need an iron will to keep control when I see her tomorrow.
And this fantasy I just indulged in?
I have to forget about it.
The next morning at the deli, I’m so distracted with thoughts of seeing Camryn that I fill the mayo squeeze bottles with mustard.
Tiana takes them away with a toss of her long braids
Angelo shakes his head. “What’s got you in such a fog, boss?”
“Nothing.”
Tiana empties the mustard into the proper bottles and gathers the mayo bottles to wash. “It’s that woman,” she says. “I can see it in his eyes.”
If I’m that obvious to my staff, there’s no way in hell I’ll keep my obsession from Camryn herself.
I spend the day practicing my focus. Timesheets. Invoices. Deliveries.
Only when I shoulder my bag before closing time does Angelo pause in wiping down the counter to say what’s probably on everybody’s mind. “So, is that girl the reason you’re working fewer hours lately?”
I hesitate. They’ve noticed.
The cut in hours is due to the workouts, but I’d rather confess about Camryn than the bodybuilding at this point. “I might be seeing her tonight.”
Tiana shakes her head, her arms crossed as I head for the door. “We’re losing the boss man to a woman.”
“Never,” I say over my shoulder. “The deli is my first love.”
“We do have the best pickles,” Angelo says with a smirk. “Maybe you should take her the hot ones again.”
I head out to the sidewalk without remarking on that.
When I arrive at Camryn’s door, I stand there a moment, collecting myself.
I brought my modesty pouch. It probably will not keep things modest. But I can say I tried.
I have to remember I’m her client. Even though she dared me with a kiss, I can’t assume too much.
But if I can move this along, I will consider tonight a victory.
Because the fact is, I want to kiss Camryn Schultz again.
Thoroughly this time. No quick peck.
I just have to make sure my pecker is under wraps.
When Camryn opens the door, there’s no hint this is anything different from our last tanning session.
She wears yoga pants and a fitted top, today in electric blue.
Her hair is back in a ponytail. But those lashes. They kill me.
“Welcome, Max.” She rubs her hands together, as if she just put lotion on. “Today will go a lot like the last time. You can change behind the screens.” She bumps the door closed with her elbow.
“Thanks.”
I step behind the screen, trying to gather myself. Despite my insistence in leaving last night’s fantasy behind me, it roars back. Camryn, naked, tanning tent.
Somebody douse me in ice water.
I kick off my shoes. Beyond the screen, I can hear Camryn moving things around.
“Has it been a busy day for you?” I ask.
“Not too bad. Our lovely friend Dahlia was here earlier. She competes at your invitational Saturday, too.”
“Did she ask you to go?” I would love it if Camryn could show up at the competition.
“She insisted. But the women’s program is much later than yours. So, I still want to see you first thing that morning.”
My pulse jumps. “But you will be there?”
“Sounds like it. For an hour, anyway. How is your training going?”
I slide my jeans to the floor and stuff them in the bag. “I meet with Amy tomorrow to go over the posedown. I think I looked pretty lost last time.”
“It was cute,” she says.
She was there?
“So, you saw?” I jerk my shirt over my head and ball it up inside the bag.
“Of course. I usually go to the evening show, since all my work is done. I like to see my clients compete.”
Of course. She was there for her other clients.
“What time will you be there Saturday?” I ask.
“Around twelve-thirty. I’ll use my lunch break from the other show.”
“Would you like to have a sandwich together?” I squeeze my eyes shut behind the screen, hoping I haven’t asked for too much.
“Hmm. I might be able to fit that in. You and Dahlia are my only clients there
. She won’t take the whole hour.”
Yes! I feel like a teen scoring his first real date.
“Veggie on olive bread? With hot pickles?” I peel off my socks and shove them in the bag.
“Sounds like a date. I’m sure you’ll be carbing up. Should I bring you some chocolate?”
She wants to bring something for me? I drop my boxers to the floor. Half-mast. Dammit. I give my dick a stern look as I say, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’d like to. There’s one in particular that helps. And it’s delicious.”
“All right, then. Thank you.”
I pull out the modesty pouch and slide it over my mind-of-its-own dick. The pouch is very stretchy, but as soon as I try to pull it over my damn erection, it pops off like a slingshot.
Shit!
I snatch it from the air before it sails over the screen. What is with my body around this woman?
So, what do I do?
Any ideas?
What’s the worst thing you can come up with?
Toilet bowl water?
Oh…port o’ potty.
Nice. Good one.
I take deep breaths. For good measure, I pretend Franklin is beyond the screen, and he will immediately notice the state of my bodily functions.
This gets me.
Down he goes.
Modesty pouch, achieved.
I wrap the towel around my waist and step out from the screen. “What first?”
“Over to the stool. Let’s make sure there are no dry spots. Have you been using the moisturizer?”
I nod and sit down, the towel draped over my thighs.
Her fingers float along my shoulders, arms, and elbows. “You’re doing a good job. This looks so much better than last week. Your tan is going to absolutely glow.”
“I get them from the best,” I say.
“It will be a definite improvement over Ride ‘em Shiny.”
Something cool spreads across the back of my neck as her fingers move across my skin.
“I’m going to focus more up here today,” she says. “I’ll do a base on your face today, then we’ll skip it on the next one. I’ll hit it again for the final. I don’t like too much buildup on the face.”
I nod. “Some of the competitors do look odd.”
“If you win this one, there will be a photo shoot. You don’t want to look raccoon-ish or uneven.”
A photo shoot. I guess Franklin’s never gotten this far, so he wouldn’t know what to tell me. “What else should I know? Do you have other clients at this level?”
“I have clients who travel to China. Brazil. Europe.”
“Wow. You ever go with them?”
She comes around to the front and lifts my chin. “Not so far. It sounds glamorous, but unless you have big sponsors, or a bunch of them, you might be traveling on a shoestring, piling into hotel rooms with other competitors. There’s no budget to bring your own personal tanner. We’re everywhere, so you can hire one on-site.”
“Not as good as you.”
She holds my eyes for a moment. “I’m sure I’m an amateur compared to many. But I do well enough here.”
I relax back on the stool. I’m in good hands. Her touch is light and easy. As long as I keep my thoughts under wraps, this will be no problem.
She runs the back of her hand across my cheek. “As much as I like this scruff, most bodybuilders lose their facial hair as they move up.”
My knuckles graze my stubble. It’s a look I’ve had a while. “Really?”
“You don’t have to, but go look up any major bodybuilding competition that’s gotten press. You’ll see very little facial hair.”
“I believe you.”
“I’d like to shave you. Is that all right?”
“Sure. I can regrow it later.”
“Exactly. When you come in Saturday morning, make sure you shave. I’ll do whatever moisturizing and cleaning up I need to do before we apply the last tan.”
“Got it.”
She moves to one of her many cabinets and rummages around. I watch the easy grace with which she moves, the way she examines a bottle and sets it on a fresh towel.
Then she removes a long blade and scrapes it across a sharpening block.
Whoa.
She approaches with the razor and a bowl.
“You do it the old-fashioned way.”
She smiles. “Same as any barber worth his salt. It’s the best shave.”
“Do guys get worried when you bring out a blade like that?”
She tilts her head and gives me an impish smile. “Max Pickle, are you nervous? Do you think I might slip and slice this beautiful throat of yours?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Don’t make me an enemy.” She winks.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Not with that in your hand.”
She moves in close, her legs straddling one of mine.
I take in all her scents. Something lightly floral. Something else citrusy. She smells delicious.
She spreads cream on my face, then the only sound in the room is the gentle scrape of the blade across my cheek.
She moves quickly with precise motions and absolute concentration.
I watch her face as she works. She’s inches from me, the closest we’ve probably ever been, except for that one brief kiss.
I’m desperate to touch her. Put my hands on her waist, her hips, to learn the curves of her.
But I have to content myself with her nearness. She switches to the other side. For a moment, our eyes meet, her lips tantalizingly close. She hesitates. “You probably know you’re brutally handsome, right?”
I should probably play this off, make a joke, but instead I say, “My sincerest hope is that you think so.”
She doesn’t move, gently breathing in and out. Our gazes hold.
Then her gaze flicks down to my lips.
Is she thinking about kissing me?
It takes two-thousand percent of my control not to lean in.
“You’ve got something right here.” She uses her thumb to rub my upper lip. But then her touch remains.
There are moments from your life that imprint on your memory. Your mom laughing. Racing your brother before jumping in a pool. Your father’s hand on your shoulder.
This is one of those moments. Camryn is so close her breath caresses my cheek. Her thumb lingers on my mouth. I’ve never felt so much anticipation before. Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come into reach.
“I do,” she says finally. “I think you’re magnificent.”
I’m not going to let that go unreciprocated. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.” And I mean it.
Our gaze holds a moment more, but something’s changed. I feel it bubbling up inside me. She must, too, because a second later, we’re both shaking with laughter.
Camryn carefully holds the blade away as she bends over, one arm over her belly.
“Good Lord,” she says. “It’s like we’re filming some sappy romance.”
I press my fingers against my eyes to stem the tears of laughter. “It’s true. You say these things in all sincerity, but when they come out of your mouth, they sound ridiculous.”
We laugh a little longer, and then I can’t resist anymore, and rest my hand lightly on her waist. “I do mean it, though. I am completely infatuated with you.”
Camryn’s face turns serious. “I need to finish this shave. Let me think about this a minute.”
I move my hand back to my own leg. Will she fire me as a client? Avoid me completely?
She works more swiftly than before, scraping the blade across my cheek with quick, even strokes. Then she draws away. “Here’s a warm towel. Press it to your face.”
I take it and lift it to my cheeks.
She heads off into the kitchen. Water runs. A few things clang.
I feel like my fate is being decided.
Her footsteps return, and I lower the towel.
“I feel the
same way,” she says. “But we’re kind of stuck.”
“Your brother?”
She sits on the floor in front of me, cross-legged. “It’s more than that. Yes, my brother would flip his shit. But I can handle him. There’s a lot at stake here. If we blow up spectacularly, and you’re always on the circuit, my heart might not be able to take having to see you.”
“You’re thinking about our breakup before we even start?”
She drops her gaze to the floor. “I just…”
I wonder if she’s thinking about the old love affair. Franklin mentioned it. That he didn’t think she would recover.
“You want to tell me about it?”
Her eyes lift to meet mine, and damn, it’s those lashes again. She looks vulnerable, like a child.
“You don’t have to,” I say quickly. “Only if it would help.”
“Not yet,” she says. “Let’s see where this goes. I’m not necessarily afraid.” She laughs shakily. “Well, obviously I am. I just said so. But I feel very mixed up around you. I sometimes feel very bold, like when I told you to kiss me.”
“That was nice.”
“But then there’s now. Facing the reality of it.”
“We can take this as slow as you want.”
Now her quirky smile reappears. “Right. Because I don’t see you naked three times a week.”
“You saying you’re feeling tempted?”
A smile flirts with the corners of her mouth. “I freely admit I’m tempted as hell.”
“Then let’s build on that temptation carefully. Like a tan. In layers.”
“Until it goes deep.” The minx has her head tilted, and she doesn’t look vulnerable at all.
“You’re the one who told me how much you liked my hot pickle.”
This makes her laugh. “I hope you brought one for me. I saw a paper bag.”
I smack my forehead. “I was so stressed out walking in here, I forgot to give it to you!’
“Why would you be stressed out coming to see me?”
“Maybe because every time I’m near you, my anatomy misbehaves.”