Games We Play

by Ruthie Robinson

  She made her way over to the couch and, standing in front of it, turned to face him and reached for the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Just like that, he had his answer. He turned the extra lock on the door so that no one, even if they had the code, could get inside.

  “No one can get in unless we want them to?” she asked, eyes on him, on his body. She was turned on and tuned in. “You have a condom, I hope.”

  #

  “Never leave home without one,” he said, leaning against the door, his hand on the doorknob behind him, the other arm across his chest, cool and relaxed except for his eyes, which were a whirlwind of green.

  “Good, then,” she said.

  What a way to get over Houston, she thought as her hands went to the waistband of her skirt, watching his eyes focus on her hands like a laser, or one of those T. rex dinosaurs in that movie Jurassic Park, silent and watchful, listening for the sounds that will help it zero in on the location of its prey with a single-minded sense of purpose.

  She slid her skirt down her legs, leaving the front of her G-string visible, baby blue in color, matching the bra she wore on top. She watched his eyes darken. Good lord, maybe he was the answer to her prayers, ’cause that was one powerful look of lust he’d handed her. She turned for him then, heard him suck in air at the back view of her.

  “I could marry your ass,” he said, and she giggled, looked back over her shoulder at him, smiling at the sight of him standing there, one hot male, his eyes smoldering and glued to her ass. She dropped the bra and stepped away from her skirt.

  “Does this happen a lot with you? Women you meet for the first time hook up with you in this trailer?”

  “If they all looked as good as you do, hell yes, it would, but it’s mostly men who come here to play when they’re on vacation at the state park and are sick of family time. I’m not into men,” he said, eyes burning holes into her skin. “I can’t remember the last time I played with a woman.” He held out an arm, his palm facing forward, to stop her from turning around to face him.

  “Don’t turn around just yet,” he said, moving over to her now. He reached over and pulled his shirt over his head en route, then unsnapped and unzipped his shorts, stepping out of them. His eyes were glued to her ass the whole time—he didn’t want to let it out of his sight for an instant.

  He pulled his wallet from the pocket of his shorts. I only have one condom, so I’d better use it wisely, he thought as he took it out and slid it over the part of his body that could probably hammer nails if called upon, so worked up was he at seeing this beautiful sight before him.

  She felt him at her back now, his stomach, smooth and muscled, against her, his hips behind hers, and…her thoughts trailed off. His hands were on her hips, holding her in place as he pushed his hips into hers and moaned low in his throat at the contact. His face was in her hair, near her ear, so she could hear his sounds, the change in his breathing, the soft moans that escaped his mouth as moved his hips, sliding his member along the seam of her ass.

  He kissed her neck then, softly, while his hands moved around to cup her breasts. He pulled, tugged, kneaded them before they moved down to skim her waist, to hold her hips to his again, while he ground against her, again and again, then his hands were back up to her breasts, setting little fires as they moved over her skin, his mouth still at her neck, sliding across the back of her skin, setting little fires there too. She could probably come from the sound of his noises alone, his groans of pleasure and the changes in his breathing, the soft catches, the soft panting, and that didn’t even account for the way his hard body felt against hers.

  Having a hard time breathing, she reached around, wanting to touch, needing to touch, but he’d pulled his hips away from hers, just out of reach of her fingers, preventing her from making contact, and he chuckled at her whimper of loss. His hand found her sweet spot then, and she almost came unglued. He’d gone right to it, like he’d been there before. Nope, he hadn’t needed to figure out where to touch her, no groping around like he was in the dark looking for the light switch, like some men did. He was spot-on, sending waves of pleasure through her with each movement of his finger.

  She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, pushed her body into his, trying to get away, but he wouldn’t let her. He just kept smoothly, softly moving his finger around and around in her, and then pressed hard until she came a few moments later, standing on her tiptoes with the power of it.

  His hands were back at her breasts again, squeezing, tugging, and then all over her body, like she was a map that was his only path home. His hands moved over her hips, glided over her thighs, bending her forward so that he could touch her all over, and his finger found her again, and she was coming before she knew it, hands up above her head, reaching back to hold him to her as she tried to catch her breath.

  He nudged her forward then, on legs that could barely support her slim frame, moving her along with the thrust of his hips, his hands on her, kissing her neck, and then he turned her to face him, kissing her hard on her mouth, like he was in a hurry now. He moved lower to take one of her breasts into his mouth, found her spot again with his hand, and started moving that damn finger again, and it wasn’t even a second before he had her coming. She moaned and held on to his arms like he was a life preserver.

  He turned her then, her back to him again, pushing her with his hips until they reached the edge of the sofa. She guessed that was their destination, ’cause he stopped pushing.

  She opened her eyes, wanting to see where they were. He had her bent at the waist, lying over the arm of the sofa. Her face was now resting against the couch cushions, and she couldn’t see, couldn’t move. He was bent over her now, his body holding hers down, and his hand at her core, again, oh God, she couldn’t come again, could she? He was unrelenting as he moved her toward another climax that was a mix of too much pleasure and a little bit of pain, and she screamed this time when she reached it.

  He spread her legs then, rubbed hands on and over her ass, kneaded it, a hand gripping each cheek tightly, rubbing, tugging, and smoothly caressing in turns. He spread her legs and lifted her hips up a little higher on the arm of the chair, seeking a perfect position, she guessed. He thrust into her with enough force to lift her off her feet, and then pulled his hips back and thrust into her again and again and again and again, lifting her to the top of her toes each time before pulling out, only to thrust into her again.

  “Oh God,” she said into the couch, feeling the stirrings of another climax. She closed her eyes, lost to nothing but this, him in her, pushing her up, again and again, and how he managed to hit her nerves from this position, behind her, minus his hands, ’cause they were clamped tightly on her hips, holding her in the position he wanted. She couldn’t move, could only lie there and take him, and “Oh…” she moaned when he pushed back in again, the moan continuing as he hit her spot with every powerful thrust of his lean hips, and she came again, sending her cries into the sofa’s cushions.

  He continued his thrust, in and in and in, faster and faster, and then he groaned, loud and long, but he kept at it, how long she didn’t know—one minute, two—the thrust of his hips into her over and over, the sound of bodies slapping against each other, mixed with their labored breathing the only sound in the room. In and up, and he moaned, his forehead pressed against her back now, teeth clenched together. Still, he continued to slam into her, hips moving to the sound of some silent beat that only he could hear, in and in, and he groaned again, held himself stiff over her as he came, putting his head down against her neck, letting his climax race through him while he continued to push into her, like he was trying to climb inside her body, bringing her to another climax.

  #

  He collapsed onto her back a few minutes later; it was all he could do, needing a few minutes to give the parts of himself that had scattered at his climax time to settle back into place. What the hell? he thought, trying to catch his breath.

  He stepped back ev
entually, but he didn’t know if a minute had passed or ten before he managed to lift his body from hers. He helped her up, and when she turned to face him, he could see the same feeling of whatever this was, whatever had come over them reflected in her eyes. He pulled her to him, arms around her waist, and kissed her. Who knew why, but it was a soft kiss, meant to convey deep appreciation and wonder at what had just transpired between them.

  #

  She took in a breath of air, her first calming one since they’d started this.

  “I don’t know what to say, except maybe wow,” she said, and felt his stomach move against hers as he chuckled.

  “How long are you going to be in town?” he said.

  “How long do you need me to be?” she said, and this time he laughed. He turned away from her to dispose of the condom and get dressed, and lost in her thoughts, she just stood there, staring at this thing of beauty. Oh lord, ass and thighs ran on repeat in her head.

  “Who are you here in town to see?” he said, turning to face her.

  She was still staring.

  “Who are you here in town to see?” he repeated, chuckling as he stepped into his boxers, followed by his shorts.

  “My aunt Myra. Do you know her? Myra Miller?”

  “Yes, I do. She comes into the Brewpub almost every day,” he said, pulling on his shirt.

  “I think the owner might be stealing from her,” she said. He looked up at her, a strange look on his face.

  “You do? Why would you think that?”

  “She’s losing money. It’s one of the reasons I’m here in town, spending the summer with her, to help her with her finances. My mom asked me to,” she said, putting on her clothes.

  “Why do you think it’s the Brewpub owner who’s stealing?” he asked.

  “She spends a lot of time there—you just said so—and I’ve checked out her account statements. I get a copy of them. How well do you know the owner, Barnabus Cooper—and what kind of name is Barnabus anyway?” she asked, sliding into her shoes now.

  “I know him well enough, and I’m sure he didn’t have much say in the selection of his name,” he said. Was this some tactic of hers he hadn’t considered, trying to pin something on him like this?

  “I’m here to check him out, make sure he’s not running some scam on my aunt. You know how people can be when it comes to money, and the elderly can be extremely susceptible,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement. “Is it important to you? Your aunt’s money?” he asked, putting his shoes on.

  “Money is always important,” she said flippantly, and gave him a wink. “I’m going to be here a while, and I’m sure you’re not going to believe this, but I really don’t do things like this so soon after meeting someone.”

  “Sure,” he said, and smiled. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not.

  “I have my business cards in the car. If you’d like to get together again, maybe we could exchange numbers,” she said, nervous now. She was standing at the door, waiting for his response as he scanned the room.

  “Let’s meet back here tomorrow, at the end of the day,” he said.

  “What if either of us gets tied up?” she asked.

  “I won’t,” he said.

  “You’re sure your boss won’t mind?” she asked.

  “No, but I usually know when he’s going to be around.”

  “What if it’s not empty?”

  “You can use the driving range or the practice green until it is,” he said, watching as she walked over to him. She put her hands on his waist and lifted her mouth, touching her lips to his. Her tongue moved across the seam of his lips, and pushed through, and he met it with his, ready all over again, it seemed. She stepped back and smiled, like she knew he wanted more.

  “I like this town already,” she said, and laughed. He chuckled and followed her out the door.

  It was quiet between them as they made their way to her car, and he waited until she handed him one of her business cards. Kendall Edwards, Assistant Professor, The University it read.

  “I had a great time playing with you on the course, and then later…” she said, letting her words die out. She leaned in and kissed him again before she got in her SUV and pulled out of the parking lot.

  He was still standing there and met her gaze in her rearview mirror and caught her smile before she made a right onto Old Quarry Road.

  Houston who? was one of the two thoughts rattling around in her head as she drove away. The other was, Welcome to Coopersville.

  #

  Cooper followed her car with his eyes until it disappeared around the bend. He heard the ring of his cell phone and reached into his pocket. It was Luis, his buddy, calling.

  “So how did it go?” Luis asked.

  “Fine.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She thinks I’m the one who’s stealing.”

  “What? You?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “I wonder what she’s up to. Must be some game we hadn’t thought of. She may be better at this than we’d thought or planned for,” Luis said.

  “She’s not,” Cooper said.

  “You sound like you mean it,” Luis said.

  “I do.”

  “You tell her that Myra is not to be messed with? That she has friends who have her back?”

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean, no?”

  “We didn’t talk much. We played golf, and she’s a good little golfer.”

  “Golf? You played golf?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s what I said. We played golf.”

  “That wasn’t part of the plan,” Luis said after a moment of silence.

  “I improvised.”

  “You weren’t supposed to improvise, and what does that even mean? What kind of improvising?”

  It was Cooper’s turn to be quiet.

  “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” he asked.

  His buddy didn’t answer the obvious.

  “She wanted it as much as I did,” he said, as much of an explanation as he was willing to give.

  “You were only supposed to talk to her.”

  “Of course, and we talked. There is more than one way to communicate.”

  “You know what I mean, and I didn’t know you were interested in…forget it. I don’t think this is what Myra had in mind when she asked for our help.”

  “I’ll find the answers my own way. And I never said I wasn’t interested in them, just that I hadn’t met any that I wanted to get to know further.”

  “Did it have to be Myra’s niece you decided to try with?”

  “It wasn’t like that. She’s really attractive and she’s a good golfer,” he said.

  “A golfer, huh,” Luis said, chuckling. “I’m at a loss here, dude. I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Luis added.

  “I do. When have I not kept the interest of this town in mind? When have I not looked out for Myra?”

  “I know, but…”

  “But nothing. I’ll have my answer soon enough,” he said.

  “Fine, but you’re on your own if Myra finds out.”

  “Aren’t I always? You could never hold out against Myra’s questioning anyway,” he said, and ended the call.

  Five

  Memorial Day weekend, Saturday

  It was going to be another busy day. Hell, they all were. It seemed as though the brewing business had taken a turn for the best two years ago, and there was no going back. Not that he could complain. How many people got to do what they wanted for a living? He could spend all day brewing and selling beer. He was one of the lucky ones.

  Cooper stood behind the desk in his office, going through his checklist of things he needed to accomplish that day. It was near noon, and he was already falling behind. He was having a heck of a time concentrating. Last night with the professor had left a lasting impression.

  He needed to head out front in a second; the ru
sh was starting early, since it was the holiday weekend. He expected large crowds today. He was still training Junior, a young kid, on all things bartending and beer brewing. The son of a friend, Cooper had taken him under his wing. The kid had wanted nothing to do with college, and he’d run into some trouble. He needed a second chance. Cooper had needed help at one time, so he understood and tried to do what he could.

  He closed the door to his office and walked down the short hallway, passing the industrial-sized pantry, refrigerator, and freezer, where all the kitchen supplies were kept. The brewery and its storage and refrigeration area were located at the opposite end of the building. His office and the kitchen shared the same rectangular space—his office was on one end, separated from the kitchen by the supplies area. He passed through the door that led to the kitchen.

  “We good here?” he asked Alex, his chef, who was standing next to the door.

  “Sure,” Alex said, nodding. It was busy in the kitchen—fifteen staff members were on duty today, seven waiters and waitresses, moving fast and efficiently to deliver food to their customers. There were two dining areas, one inside, one out. The Coopersville Brewpub was as famous for its good food as it was its beer.

  There was just as much of an art to pairing beer with food as there was with wine. They made sandwiches with Alex’s special bread, thick, decadent sandwiches served with thick and decadent fries, pizzas smothered in new and unusual toppings, as well as dishes like the shrimp-and-grits special. Cooper wouldn’t have put shrimp and grits together, but here it worked. Along with the beer, the food was what kept people returning for more. Alex was one heck of a chef, and Cooper tried to make sure he was happy. Whatever Alex wanted, Alex usually got.

  Brewpub food was filled with flavors to accompany the flavorful beer served here, which was light years in taste as far as you could get from the liquid that passed for beer elsewhere in the state. He didn’t even consider that watered-down nonsense beer. Made to please everyone, it was free from any discernable taste, and it satisfied no one. Yeah, that was his opinion, and apparently he wasn’t alone, because craft beer in the US was quietly making a comeback.