At the end of the day, Alex charges me with clean-up and sanitizer duty. Basically, she has me sanitizing all the equipment before I can head home, and she tells me I can hang out as long as I like so long as I lock up. Either way, I can’t leave until the last of the late-stayers are gone. Laurel is among them; she and two other women are still in the ring. I watch from afar, not wanting to piss them off by being nosey. Laurel keeps eyeing me, though, so I do my best not to stare. That night at her apartment had been really fun and exciting before she had tossed me out so abruptly –although I could probably figure out why now. She had realized who I was, and she clearly was not a fan.
Soon the women are leaving, and Laurel lags behind in the locker room. I wait outside of the locker room, hoping that when she comes out, I can get a word with her. She exits, and she is not pleased to see me standing there. “Ugh,” she grumbles when she sees that I had waited for her.
“Thought I’d walk you out,” I say.
“No thanks,” she says and storms past me, but I follow her towards the back exit anyways.
“Look, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot-” I start to say, and she spins around to face me.
“Fuck off,” she warns.
“Hey, I’m trying to be nice,” I say, “what’s with the attitude?”
She rolls her eyes. “Really? Do you want to know why I have an attitude with you? Let’s see… let’s start with your sexist shit you said about female boxers, for one. Then that video of you fighting in the locker room where you knocked your wife to the ground. And then you are getting busted for trying to hire a hooker. You’re a misogynistic prick; that’s why I have an attitude. Oh, and I almost forgot about how you got your trainer’s assistant killed driving like a jackass-”
“Shut the fuck up!” I snap at her. “You don’t know shit about me!”
“I see I found your soft spot, huh?” she grunts. “Sorry, my bad. But that doesn’t change shit. Stay the hell away from me, and I swear, don’t you ever tell anyone about what almost happened between us because, I swear, I’ll-”
“What’s the matter?” I quip, “Afraid everyone will find out what a skank you are?”
She practically screams her reply, “No, I just don’t want them to find out I’ve fucking touched you!” She spins around and storms out the back.
I have already finished locking up, so all I have to do is lock up the back entrance. Unfortunately, that means I have to follow her out. I do my best not to look at her as I load up into my car. I hear her laughing from the other side of the parking lot. “Nice car, you little bitch!” she shouts.
I slam on the gas and peel out of the parking lot.
28
“We’re a terrible influence,” Marty laughs as the three of us lounge around our favorite bar. The guys bought me a drink, but they have my card so that I can’t overdue it.
“Hey, he’s earned it,” Tyler reasoned, “two full weeks at his new job, and not a single screw up.”
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” I say as I take a swig of the beer they had bought me. It’s nice and rephrasing –just what I needed.
“So how is it having this moron as a roommate?” Marty asks Tyler while throwing his thumb my way.
“I kind of miss him not working. He kept my apartment clean like a good little housewife,” Tyler teases.
“Well,” I joke, “if my hubby would just clean up after himself, I wouldn’t have to spend half the day cleaning up after your mess.”
Marty laughs. “Glad you’re starting to sound like your old self again, man.”
“You’re not the only one,” I say.
“So, not to put a damper on things, but have you seen Brandi lately?” Marty asks.
“No, why?” I ask.
“Not dancing while she’s doing rehab on that elbow of hers has caused her to put on a little weight. Like, her face is puffy and shit. I’m just used to seeing her looking like an anorexic,” Marty says, and I shake my head.
“I’d rather just not talk about her,” I say.
“Sorry,” Marty grumbles under his breath. He’s not that sorry. He thinks I'm a pussy about the whole thing, but he won’t say it. In his head, I’m recently single –so I should enjoy it. He, however, just got tricked into letting his overbearing girlfriend move in. She’s got him on a chain.
“Hey, Jonathan, the chick at the bar is eyeballing you,” Tyler says, and I glance over.
He’s right; I shoot the girl a grin, and she embarrassingly looks away. “So, I’m heading to the bar,” I say.
“Of course, you are,” Marty says.
I wink at Tyler, “You might want to hang out here for a while.”
“Stay out of my bedroom, you pig,” Tyler warns.
I laugh and trot myself over to the bar and introduce myself to the woman who had been making googly eyes at me. “Hey sweetheart,” I say kindly, and she grins. “You look like you’re by yourself?”
It’s not exactly a pickup line, but over the years I’ve learned that most women prefer conversation instead of cheesy one liners. We introduce ourselves, and soon we’re deep in conversation, and I can tell she’s already had a bit to drink. Tyler and Marty send a couple of drinks our way to help me out since they kind of stole my card.
I win her over eventually, and Tyler gives me this dirty look as I walk out the door with her –warning me not to fuck on his bed back at the apartment. I decide not to take her back to the apartment at all; instead, we find her car and drive it around back. I was seated in the passenger’s seat, so once we find a discreet parking spot, she climbs over into my lap and starts kissing my lips. I guess I still have my looks because I doubt there’s anything I said that could have talked her into jumping in the car with me having just met.
She pulls my pants down and drops hers too –with much difficulty in the tight quarters. She grabs hold of my shaft –a little violently for my taste, but I go with it. She rubs me with the palm of her right hand and then reaches down and plays with my testicles with her other, laughing like she thinks this is somehow entertaining. “Mmm…” she says in anticipation as she spreads her legs and climbs up further on me, teasing me slightly by rubbing her inner thigh against my cock. “Give it to me,” she says and slowly slides down onto me.
Her car shakes as she bounces up and down on me; I start to reach up into her shirt and play with both of her breasts, cupping one in each of my hands. “You’re so hot,” I tell her; we have obviously thrown out any sort of romantic talk; this is just a dirty fuck in the parking lot of a bar.
“Do me harder,” she says, and I make the suggestion that we climb into the back of her car and lay the seats down. She seems pretty enthralled by this idea, so we get right to it –climbing over her front seats in order to get into the back.
Now we have a lot more room. Not much –but enough. I get on top now, and I have her take her shirt off. I yank her out of her bra, and now she’s lying out completely naked under me. She has a serious tan line like she had been out to the beach recently. I notice, though, that her breasts don’t appear any paler; she must have taken her top off wherever she had tanned at –the only line she has is at her waist. “Damn,” I say when I get a full view of her.
She turns over onto her stomach, “Fuck me from behind.” She gets up on her knees and spreads her legs for me.
I grin and force myself into her; my head hits the ceiling of the car, but that doesn’t stop me. I pull out just as I am getting ready to cum, and I make a mess in the back of her car. We part ways after that, and honestly, I’m not feeling that satisfied at all. I guess I had gotten used to being married and coming home to the same woman every night –not coming home to fucking Tyler and his sketchy apartment. This isn’t what I want. A small part of me wonders if I could ever win Brandi back, but I’m not going to try to fool myself. I got to get right. No more drinking. No more fights. Nothing stupid like random sex in the parking lot of a bar. I have got to get my life back on track
.
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29
It’s paycheck day. Paychecks come out every two weeks at the gym; it won’t be much, I know, but it will be better than having to mooch off of Marty and Tyler. My $500 I had had left had very quickly turned into $75, so the thought of having my own money again is a little endearing. I head into work early today, hoping to get a chance to use the ring and some other boxing equipment before the place opens up.
I adorn my lucky pair of gloves and head over to the speed bag to warm up a bit. I’d consider myself an expert here. I put some plugs in my ears and jam out to some music –I’m a Led Zeppelin fan, so I jam out to Heart Breaker while I do my routine. Just as I am starting to work up an actual sweat, someone taps me on the shoulder. I spin around and see the brunette bitch, Britany, that I had had the displeasure of meeting on my first day. I remove my gloves and then pull my headphones out of my ears. “Morning,” I say in the friendliest voice I can manage. I can see that the other professional boxers are here this morning; because they have their own personal entrance, the group of women tends to show up early together to take advantage of the location before the soccer moms show up and crowd the place.
“Morning,” Britany says in a slightly friendlier tone than I’m used to. “We’re out of towels in the locker room.”
“All right, I’m on it,” I say, but I know she’s just giving me hell. I go and restock the women’s locker room, taking note that there were already several towels available. She had just wanted me to scram. I roll my eyes slightly and head back into the main room where I see the group of powder puffs has already spread out around the ring –all taking their places at different equipment stations while Laurel and another woman are actually inside doing some light sparring. I notice that they aren’t sparring with gloves, so I say something. “Hey, you two might want to throw some gloves on,” is all I say, but it causes the entire group to turn and look at me like I’m a complete dumbass.
Laurel holds up her hands to show me that she’s wearing fingerless gloves, and she proceeds to slowly raise up both middle fingers as she does so. I shake my head. “My bad,” I say. A part of me wants to just walk away, but another part is tired of taking shit from this particular group of patrons. “You know what, you have given me hell ever since I started here. You realize I was a professional boxer, right? That’s why I was hired here. If you would quit being such a bitch, you might actually learn something from me.”
Laurel rolls her eyes. “You were hired because you were a boxer? Is that why Alex has you teaching all the soccer moms how to kick guys in the groin?”
“You’re washed up, Trial,” another one of the women chimes in. “No one gives a shit about you anymore.”
“Yet every one of you knew who I was. Never heard of anyone of you,” I say, “really making it in the boxing world, aren’t you?”
“Is he really that stupid?” the woman in the ring with Laurel whispers to her.
“Hold on, ladies,” Laurel says and grins down at me, “He’s right. Alex hired him for a reason. Why don’t you get up here and spar with me, Jon-boy? Let’s see if you got anything you can show me. Or do you have a problem fighting a woman?”
I’m a bit taken back by her sudden change in tone; I can see the other women are too. A small voice in my head is telling me it’s some sort of trick, but I climb up into the ring anyway. “Fine,” I say as I get into the ring and start putting on my gloves, “let’s see what you got.”
“Oh, this should be good,” I hear Britany say as she helps the other woman out of the ring and out of our way.
Laurel holds her fists up, and I shake my head. What kind of boxer practices with fingerless gloves? We toy around with each other for a minute, landing gentle punches just to check out each other’s form. “You’re quick,” I tell her when she lands a good, swift jab.
“You’re not,” she retorts, “You could use some work.”
“I am a little out of practice,” I say, “cut me some slack.”
“What, you want me to go easy on you?” she teases.
“Yeah, Laurel, don’t hurt him,” one of the women says; they’ve all stopped what they are doing to watch our little sparring match.
“Screw every last one of you,” I say. I glare at Laurel.
“Awe, don’t look so sad, Jon-boy,” she says and then nails me in the chin with a shit ton of force.
“All right,” I snap, “I’m not smacking you like that –cool it!”
“Come on!” she taunts, “show me what you got. You think I can’t take a punch?”
“I don’t know what to think of you, bitch –not after what happened when we left the bar a couple of weeks ago,” I snarl, and she looks pissed. The other women look up at her with these questioning gazes. I probably should have kept my mouth shut about that, but damn!
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snarls right back as though she actually thought we had some sort of understanding.
“Oh my God, Laurel, did you sleep with him?” one of the women ask.
“No!” Laurel snaps.
“Kind of,” I add, and she swings at me –distracted by her current rage, so I land a punch just above her gut. She gags for a second in surprise that I actually hit her with a bit of intentional force. I hold up my gloves. “Come on; you wanted to see what I could do. I’ll fucking show you.”
“Fine,” she says, “But I’m going to show you what I do.”
I go on the offense, and I go to do my famous right hook. If she wants to actually fight me, I’ll fight her. Besides, I’ve already been accused of belittling women by the media. What kind of sexist would I be to hold back just because she’s got a damn pussy? Much to my surprise, she ducks down, and I miss. My hooks are pretty fast, so I’m surprised she even saw it coming. When she comes back up, she hits me with two quick jabs and then rears back –kicking me square in the chest and sending me to my back. When I hit the ground, it knocks the air of out me for a second. I gasp, “What the fuck was that you cunt!”
The women all laugh and Laurel just leans her back against one of the corners of the ring. “I told you I was going to show you what I do, and I don’t box.”
“What?” I question as I roll over onto my gloves and knees to push myself back up to my feet. I remove my gloves to let her know I’m done.
“I’m an MMA fighter, jackass,” she says, and I’m more than just a little surprised. She climbs out of the ring, saying she’s going to hit the track upstairs for a bit.
“You didn’t tell me you weren’t a boxer,” I say as I rub my now very sore chest where she had kicked the shit out of me.
“Didn’t want to intimidate you,” she says with a flip of her hair, “Boxers can be such pussies.”
Well damn.
30
My interaction with Laurel got me into some trouble with Alex. Telling Laurel’s posse, which apparently consisted of both boxers and MMS fighters that I had almost slept with her had apparently gotten her pretty ticked off, and she had gone to Alex –calling it sexual harassment. I got three days off work no pay, but thankfully Alex had been able to calm Laurel down, and the psychopath seemed pretty satisfied that I had gotten reprimanded.
My first day off I had borrowed Tyler’s laptop and had watched some video clips online of female MMA fights, and they’re pretty rough. A part of me is impressed –especially after I looked up Laurel and saw some videos of her fights. She’s a damn beast. She’s the Donte of female MMA fighting. I’ve never really considered MMA before; I’ve always just boxed. There seems to be a lot more to this MMA shit, though. They wrestle, they box, and they do some crazy karate shit too when they get in the cage. It’s hard to believe a woman like Laurel does this kind of shit. I’m not sure whether or not to be turned on or confused by this.
Today is my third day off, and I’m pretty thankful that I’ll be heading back to work tomorrow. I’m not sure how I’ll do about seeing Laurel and her group of bitc
hes, but we’ll see. A part of me is excited about today. I had called Brandi, and she had actually answered the phone. She still has a shit ton of my clothes at the mansion, so I had asked her if she wouldn’t mind if I came and got it. She said that that would be fine, and I think that that is a huge step. The thought of getting to see her has me walking on air.
I dip into my first paycheck a bit to buy her some flowers. I’m pretty sure it’s going to annoy her more than anything, but I want to make some sort of kind gesture. She loves orchids, so I buy a pot of orchids with these pretty white and purplish colored petals. I don’t exactly expect us to get back together; I mean, she did divorce me, after all, but I would like to try to make up for all of the shit I put her through. I know flowers aren’t going to do that, but I do want her to know I’m thinking about her. I want her to know I’m sorry, and who knows what might happen later down the road? Time can heal a number of wounds. I just hope this one is not too deep that it would be impossible.
I’m still driving her pink car; I’m sure she’ll at least manage a laugh about that when I get there. The pot of orchids is sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car –buckled up just in case. I pull up to the outer gate of the mansion and hit the buzzer. I hear Marie, one of our old maids, speaking. “Mr. Trial, good to hear your voice,” she says sweetly; she had always liked me. I’m actually surprised Brandi kept her because the two of them had not gotten along great when they had first met. “I’m buzzing you in,” she says through the speaker, and the gates open.
I smile as I drive up the familiar cobblestone driveway and park next to the large fountain at the base of the main stairwell that leads up to the front porch. I shove my keys into my pockets and go around to get the flowers. I can’t wait to see Brandi. Marty had told me she had gained a bit of weight, but I bet that looks good on her. She has always been too skinny for her body type being a professional ballet dancer and all. Marie opens the large entryway doors, and she smiles at me. “Good morning,” she says to me and invites me in. She points over towards the den as we make our way inside. “Brandi already boxed up all of your clothes for you and put them in the den.”
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 136