Craig waved the bartender over, and ordered two more beers.
They drank the beers in silence; Craig paid the tab, and they left.
From his car, Chance sent a text message. Sorry Sinclair, but I can’t make it. See you at work.
Chapter Eight
Sinclair had sent Chance a million text messages throughout the day, but he’d only responded once. Busy as hell. Call you later.
She didn’t know why he was acting like a jerk, but she didn’t feel like dealing with him or his cold shoulder routine. It was 6:00 p.m.., and she was tired. Marcus had kept her up until one in the morning. After he dropped her off, he called her, and they stayed on the phone discussing the same thing. Over and over. She had to yawn twenty times before he caught the hint, and said good night. She’d hoped Chance would show up before she fell asleep, but he didn’t.
Anger and irritation grew within her the more she thought about Chance and Marcus. The black purse hiding her car keys made her want to scream. Instead, she tossed its contents onto her desk, grabbed her keys, and tossed the rest back into her purse.
“Hi Sinclair.”
Uninvited once again, Raquel hovered over her. Something about the sight of her made her want to jump across the desk, and slap her.
“Hi Raquel. What’s up?” She continued stuffing the contents back where they belonged.
Again, candy-coated words of invitation assaulted Sinclair. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve got planned for the night, but a group of us were going to go out for drinks. I thought maybe you’d like to come with.”
She sounded sincere, and looked so innocent, but Sinclair knew there must be a catch. “I don’t know Raquel. I am kind of tired.”
“You should join us, a group of us meet every once in a while.” Raquel handed her a piece of paper with a name and address. “If you change your mind meet us here.”
Sinclair accepted the piece of paper. “Sure.” She followed Raquel out of her office, and out of the building. They parted ways in the parking lot.
With the door propped open, she sat behind the steering wheel staring at the piece of paper. What had Raquel said, “…a group of us meet every once in a while.” Was this the coveted meeting they had excluded her from in the past? Speed dial button number three was Chance, right behind her parents and voicemail. No answer. She read the address again—Harry’s Bar. It was on the west side of the river. Not far from her home, so why not.
Minutes later, she pulled into the gravel covered lot, and parked. The heels of her shoes sank into the dirt and gravel. After entering the foyer of Harry’s Bar, she leaned against the exposed brick wall, and shook out her t-strap sandals.
Raquel didn’t say where they’d be inside of the bar, so Sinclair walked around. Everyone in the bar wore jeans or cute club attire, but not her. She wore the same suit she had on at work. Everyone in the bar stared at her as she walked through. Big-head, wide-eyed martian. That’s what she felt like.
Ahead of her, Veronica stood in a corner. Sinclair approached her, but she walked away. Maybe she didn’t see her. Sinclair scanned the corner of the bar, but she didn’t see her. Maybe it wasn’t Veronica. Sinclair sat at a small table in a corner of the club; ordered a drink, and watched the room. She didn’t see anyone. Forty-five minutes passed.
Raquel didn’t write down her phone number, so Sinclair had no way of reaching her. She didn’t know if plans had changed, but she didn’t feel like waiting around any longer. All of the game playing infuriated her. If she left now, there would not be a problem, but if she stayed and ran into Raquel and her crowd, she thought she might slap her.
She stood to leave. As she walked out of the door, she was bumped by the man entering. “Sorry.” The man didn’t matter. Getting out of Harry’s Bar was the only thing that mattered.
“No problem.” His hand touched her stomach, stopping her from leaving.
Reflex kicked in, and she swiped the man’s hand away. Some guy grabbing her in a club was not cool. Annoyed and ready to tell him off she looked up to see who she’d collided with. Chance.
“What are you doing here?” asked Chance. His focus was not on her.
Voicemails nor text messages could get anything more than a cursory response, why did he care where she was or what she was doing. “Why?”
From behind her she heard voices. Raquel and her crew were in the building. For how long? Her seat in the corner had allowed her to see the door that’s why she chose it. But she hadn’t seen them arrive.
The glimmer in Raquel’s eye paired with her smile betrayed her words. “Sinclair. We’ve been looking for you. Where have you been? Did you just arrive?”
Sinclair was pissed. Did they invite her just to make a fool of her? Her hands balled into tight little fists at her side. Focus on getting out of the door behind Chance was all she could do. “No, I’ve been here for awhile.”
Chance waved a hand in wide circles pointing to the group around him. “So, what’s going on? All of you are together?”
Raquel answered. “Yeah, we all thought we’d get together to discuss work, and relax.”
Chance stared at Sinclair.
“Thanks again for the invitation, Raquel, but I’ve got a headache. I’m going to head home.”
“Sinclair.”
Sinclair walked out the door, and didn’t look back at Chance’s call.
“Raquel, what the hell are you up to?” He didn’t wait for a response. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he ran. “Hey, wait up.”
“Why? I haven’t heard from you in days,” retorted Sinclair over her shoulder, meanwhile quickening her pace. Chance reached for her arm from behind. She yanked it away. “After we spoke on the phone that night, you disappeared.”
“Sinclair, stop. Wait.”
She didn’t slow her pace. The headlights of her car blinked in unison with the beep of her car horn signaling the door was unlocked. She slid behind the wheel, and Chance jumped in on the passenger side. His knees folded into his abdomen. He tried to adjust the seat.
Sinclair stared into his eyes. “Chance, I don’t feel like playing anymore games tonight.”
“I’m not playing games with you.”
“I’m leaving. Get out, Chance. Please.”
The headlights of the truck pulling out of the parking space in front of Sinclair illuminated the tears hiding behind her glasses.
“Sinclair, wherever you’re headed…I’m going, too.”
“What about your truck?”
“Leave it.”
She shifted the car into drive, stepped on the gas, and pulled out of the lot. At the corner gas station, she u-turned, then drove back into the lot next to Chance’s truck. “Chance, I’m tired. I want to go home, and I can’t drive home with you crammed in that seat like you are.”
“If you tell me what happened, I’ll get out.”
“Chance, why do you care? I haven’t seen you. Where have you been?”
“Busy, that’s all.”
Chance was still upset. Every time he imagined that guy going home with her. Kissing her. Touching her. He became angry all over again.
“Yeah, whatever. Chance, I am ready to go. Please get into your truck.”
“Damn, Sinclair. Alright. I saw you…okay.”
Sinclair’s face looked puzzled. “You saw me? Doing what?”
Chance felt like a jealous child saying the words. “At the pub the other night.”
Sinclair laughed. The car jerked forward. She put the car in park. “Is that all?”
“What do you mean is that all?”
“That was just Marcus. My girlfriends hooked me up with him.”
“Okay, that doesn’t change anything. I didn’t like it.”
Sinclair’s hand rubbed up and down his thigh. Each stroke went higher up his thigh and lengthened to his knee. Neatly manicured nails scratched at his denim-clad skin. “We agreed to see other people. You go on dates with other women.”
He covered her hand with his to stop
her. A knowing smile crept onto her face, and her eyes searched his body. “I know, but I didn’t like it Sinclair. I don’t want you to date other people.”
“Jealous huh?”
Chance opened the car door, and stretched one of his legs out the door. Other parts of his body needed the room, too. The fresh air didn’t hurt either. “I know what we said, but I needed you that night, and when I saw you with him…well, I kept imagining him touching you.” Chance reached over and rubbed a finger over her lips, remembering each taste and every sound she made when he kissed her. “I didn’t like thinking about it”
The smell of the Susquehana River wafted in around them. Sinclair’s smiling face dimly lit by the hood light stared at him. He ran his hand up and down her stocking covered leg. The vibration of the silk stocking buzzed against his fingertips. His heart skipped a beat when he realized the stocking ended mid-thigh. Her legs parted, inviting him to go further. Her underwear was satiny to the touch. Warm, wet satin. He watched her breasts heave as her breaths deepened. He wanted to rip the blouse under her suit open, and bury his face, and other parts of his body deep between her soft skin.
Instead, he kissed her. Reluctantly he removed his hand, pushed her head into the headrest behind her, and kissed her until voices and cars outside of the car disturbed them.
“I guess we’ll see you two at work.” Raquel crouched down to peer through the car window.
The crew they’d left in the bar probably searched the lot until they found Sinclair’s car. He should’ve made her keep driving or stay at the gas station. He got out of the car, and closed the door. “Raquel, you don’t need to look for either one of us.” He walked around to Sinclair’s side of the car, and leaned into the window. “Go home. I’ll meet you there.” Chance kissed her again, and walked to his truck.
Raquel and her gang stood watching as he pulled into traffic behind Sinclair.
Barefoot and dressed in boy-cut panties and a tank top, Sinclair curled up next to Chance on the couch draping a throw across their laps. Sipping a glass of wine, she nestled up against his bare chest. The warmth of her body flowed into him. She offered a sip of her wine which he accepted, but that only served to enhance the urges vibrating through his body. His fingers sifted through her locs at the nape of her neck playfully massaging her head. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back into his hand exposing her neck to his delight. His tongue traced up her neck to her chin the journey broken by sporadic kisses until he reached her mouth. The taste of the wine on her lips intoxicated him even more. He swept her legs onto his lap, and turned her chest into his. His body hardened, and his kisses deepened. She didn’t back away. She gave to him, and took from him. His body wanted her, but he had some questions that wouldn’t go away. He broke their connection, reluctantly, and stared into her eyes. “Sinclair why were you there tonight?”
Dreamy eyed, and husky she responded, “Raquel invited me.”
“I see.” His hand rubbed up and down her stomach finding its way underneath her top.
“What?” Her eyes widened.
“I knew there was a reason she wanted me to meet her there.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “She told me she wanted to discuss everything that’s been happening at work. Her father. My boss.”
“Work? Her father? Your boss? What?”
“I’ll explain, but first tell me why were you leaving?”
“I waited forty-five minutes, and no one showed.”
Chance sat up alertly; Sinclair spilled her wine.
“What?” Raquel acted like a twelve-year old. What was he thinking ever getting in bed with her? He never planned on hanging around Harrisburg. But she and her father must have planned it for him.
“I guess they felt like playing more games.”
He took her glass of wine, and sat it on the floor beside the couch. His hands rested on her hips. “I don’t want to play anymore games. I don’t want to share you.”
“Chance, I thought...”
“I know what we said, but now I know what I want.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
The eyes that stared at her begged her to understand, and say yes. His body’s scent: cologne mixed with her body’s scent and spilled white wine enticed her. She kissed him. The longer she kissed him, the more her body ached for him. Her nipples rubbed against his bare skin intensifying her desire for him, but she pulled away.
“Chance, explain.”
“Huh?” Chance pulled her back into a kiss.
“Chance…what happened?”
Breathless he fell back into the cushions. “Nothing just more of the same bull from Michael and Raquel.”
“Like what?”
“Michael talked with Steve—my boss—about me.”
“What? Chance all of this is affecting your job? We should think about this.” She stood up in front of him.
Her bottom, full and round, jiggled as she patted her foot on the floor. Her breasts bounced; erect nipples teased him. His body swelled, and ached for release. Standing he grabbed her bottom, and pulled her into him.
“I’ll take care of it. Right now, I need you to take care of me.”
She smiled up at him; reached inside of his briefs and massaged his rod until it was rigid. The feel of her hand on his body nearly caused him to explode.
“Sinclair, I want to be inside of you.”
She removed her tank top; slowly she sank to the carpeted floor removing his briefs as she did. For a moment, she knelt in front of him. Her hand stroked his rod, and her mouth joined in rhythm. Warm and wet, her tongue circled and played.
Chance couldn’t take it any longer. He found his pants; grabbed a condom, and returned his attention to Sinclair. She responded to his every silent motion. Lying beneath him, she spread her legs for his touch. His fingers explored her body first. She moaned in answer to the slightest touch. His tongue stroked her nipple as his fingers found their way to the source of her fire. The slickness of her body told him she was ready for him.
He kissed her as he slowly pushed deeper, and deeper inside of her. Her body was tight, but with each thrust her legs parted more, and her body stretched.
His cadence quickened, and her breaths became more audible. He slid his hands beneath her bottom raising it up toward him as he thrust into her. Her hands pulled at his back and shoulders, and tugged at his hair. She kissed him deeply. So, deeply that she took his breath away.
Her body rose from the floor. She sighed. Her legs trembled against his side.
Erratic, his cadence became jerky and unmeasured. Deep thrusts of his body into hers prickled their bodies with perspiration. He wanted to be inside of her all night, but he couldn’t stop his body any longer. He released; winded and happy, slowly, he removed his throbbing organ from her. Curving his body around hers, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
She slept naked on the floor beside him until morning.
Chapter Nine
Sinclair had been dreading the Carni’s Food Golf Tournament since being drafted as a judge. She twisted her locs into the best French braid possible, but little helped to keep her cool in the hot August sun. Beads of sweat rolled down the sides of her face. Sweat glued her yellow pique golf shirt to her body.
Sprawled across her portable folding chair, she squinted as she peered across the vast treeless golf course. No one was in sight. Stationed at a long-shot hole-in one, donated by a car dealership, she felt like a forgotten pair of shoes in the back of a closet. The only bright spots came when Chance text her.
Are you bored, yet? He typed.
I was bored before I got here.
Yeah, I know. At least I’m up here with the beer.
Wish I was there right now. I’m running out of water.
I’ll bring you some.
Really? Can you leave? I would love to see you.
I like the sound of that.
Sinclair slid her phone shut, and put it back into one of the pockets on her capris.
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She sat back at her umbrella perch, and waited. Her pocket vibrated. It was a picture text from Chance. Sinclair looked around, and then opened the message. She’d been surprised by Chance before, and she’d reciprocated. She always titled each picture—for your eyes only, as a warning, and instructed Chance to delete after viewing.
Like what you see? Chance’s smiling face filled her tiny 3-inch screen.
Yes. A LOT.
This was one picture she would save and archive. Instead of putting her phone away, she pulled out the stylus, and clicked on games. One more game of Solitaire might help pass the time.
Another foursome of pot-bellied, grey haired male executives packed into two tiny golf carts drove up to Sinclair’s hole. They climbed out like clowns at a circus. Legs, arms, and bellies. Like everyone else, they knew her name, but she had almost no clue who they all were. She did recognize Michael Dickinson. The second cart stopped on the path, but Michael’s cart drove onto the green.
They all spoke together. “Hello Sinclair.”
“Hi everyone. Do you all feel lucky today?” asked Sinclair.
Michael Dickinson responded for the group. “Very.”
Sinclair grabbed her board wrote down Michael’s name, and asked each member of his group their names. After recording everyone’s information, Sinclair stepped back, and let them play through.
Another cart approached Sinclair’s perch, but this time she knew exactly who it was. Chance. Sinclair focused on Michael Dickinson’s teammate’s stroke, but Michael glared at her. Michael hurried his party along with rushed tight words as Chance’s cart closed the gap between him and the crowd.
None of them made the hole.
Michael and his group hopped back into their carts, and pulled away as Chance parked and set the brake next to the cart parked on the path. The balding man in the cart with Michael looked over his shoulder at Sinclair. Chance hopped out of the cart with three bottles of water for Sinclair. When he was near enough for her to hear him, he asked, “Was that Michael?” Chance handed Sinclair the bottles of water.
With a kiss, Sinclair took the water. “Yep. He did not seem at all happy to see you driving up.”
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