The Cabin

by Alice Ward

  “And this is my restaurant,” she announced crudely. “Caitlyn’s got a better face.”

  I nearly crumbled.

  Sorry, I mouthed to Linda, who looked like she wanted to scratch out my eyes.

  “Ma, let Linda take it,” I whispered, pleading.

  I could care less if I waited on a man with money. I found most extraordinarily wealthy people to be super rude and super stingy with their tips. I didn’t need that in my life right now.

  “No,” was Ma’s only response on the matter. “Now git over there.”

  I nudged the now fuming Linda. “I promise to share the tip, okay?”

  She gave me a half-hearted smile and seemed appeased for the moment. The rich gentleman looked uncomfortable stuffed inside the booth wearing his Armani suit and good shoes. A million scenarios explaining why he was in the diner at this time of night filtered through my brain, but none of them made any sense, and most were dastardly.

  “Welcome to Ma’s Diner. I’m Caitlyn, I’ll be your server,” I said, using my most pleasant voice.

  He never looked up from the menu. His face was twisted as his green eyes scanned down the choices. I wasn’t a mind reader, but he clearly found his choices lacking. What did he expect from our famous one-star establishment anyway? He huffed with annoyance.

  “Nothing looks appetizing, do you serve anything remotely edible?” he asked, his voice dripping disdain.

  There it was, the asshole-ish rudeness I was expecting.

  “What are you looking for exactly?” I asked as nicely as I could.

  He snorted. “Anything that isn’t deep fried, pan fried, or made with grease?”

  “Salad,” I answered in a monotone, keeping my face carefully neutral.

  He glanced up for the first time, probably to see who had the nerve to be snarky with him. Our eyes met, and his expression changed fractionally, softened, but I was so irritated that even his dashing good looks couldn’t counter his nasty attitude. He stared through me for a beat, then continued to be offensive.

  “Do… you… have… anything… other… than… salad?” He spoke as if I were in kindergarten.

  “We… have… seared… catfish,” I answered, mocking him before I could catch myself.

  To my surprise, we both laughed, and a weird sort of electricity sparked to life between us, causing something low in my stomach to twist. His eyes fell to my lips, then he recovered quickly, resorting back to Mr. Asshole in a flash. He snapped his menu shut and handed it to me. “I’ll have that and a glass of red wine, preferably Pinot Noir,” he said without acknowledging me again.

  When I chuckled this time, I tried really hard not to laugh out loud. He lifted an are you insane eyebrow at me.

  “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have wine. Um, we have juice… orange juice, apple juice, pineapple, or cranberry, coffee, milk, and water.” I felt accomplished being able to rattle off the beverage choices without laughing in his face again. He huffed another disdainful exhale.

  “Coffee, black,” he growled.

  “Got it,” I confirmed and darted away, wanting to spend as little time as I had to near the guy.

  I rolled my eyes as I passed the kitchen to put in the order.

  “Real Prince Charming,” I scoffed to Linda, who was still fuming from my overthrow of her table.

  By then, the few other customers in the restaurant were starting to gawk and gossip about our strange gentleman, and the kitchen staff was laughing loudly. Generally, the mood was odd and uncomfortable. I almost felt sorry for the guy… but not really.

  When I brought him his food, he whipped out his phone and took a picture of it, then his thumbs flew over the screen. I thought that was strange. Why would he be doing a social media check-in at Ma’s when he so clearly didn’t even want to be there.

  Probably just making fun, I fumed.

  “Do you need anything else?” I asked, forcing a smile onto my face, trying to defuse the weird vibe.

  With the gossipy tables talking in hushed whispers while pointing fingers, and the kitchen staff having the time of their lives at his expense, the diner had a surreal circus feel to it. Add Ma’s scrutiny and Linda’s brooding, and you had a nice mix of late-night insanity. I felt like I was this guy’s only port in the storm, so I stood there waiting for him to acknowledge me. He took a few bites of his fish, and his face softened some.

  “Hmmm. This is much better than I was expecting,” he said with a lilt in his voice, finally sounding more human.

  He then looked at me, and I’ll never forget the way he stared. It was as if his soul was burrowing into mine. I felt transfixed. It was unsettling, but I didn’t make a move to leave. I had asked if he needed anything and was obligated to wait for the answer.

  “Yes, you can help me with something,” he stated, still in a lilting voice that seemed more like mockery at this point. “I’m curious.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered politely.

  “Are you happy?”

  The question threw me off.

  I licked my lips. “Yes, I’m… happy.” It was the truth. I was mostly happy. I added a smile to punctuate the sentiment.

  His eyes explored mine as if trying to discover all my secrets. “What makes you happy?”

  The night had just gotten that much more bizarre. Who asks questions like these to complete strangers?

  “Um… well, my Gran and my friends,” I answered, trying to hurry the interrogation along.

  “And besides that?” he pressed.

  I lifted a shoulder. “You mean existential happiness? The secret to life kinda stuff?”

  “I guess.” He continued to stare at me in that almost hypnotizing way.

  “Love.” The answer just jumped out of me, and I found myself backtracking. “I mean, like for your family, friends, and humanity… not just…” I licked my dry lips again.

  His eyes dropped to my mouth, his nostrils flaring a bit. “Fucking?” he said, finishing my sentence.

  “Yeah,” I breathed, the word barely audible. Now, I was really uncomfortable.

  Maybe this guy was with the mob, or a human trafficker, or some other sort of deviant character.

  He wiped his hands and put his credit card on the bill holder, signaling me to take it, but Ma rushed in.

  “I’ll get that,” she barked, leaving me to stand with this weirdo for a few more minutes until he could pay for his barely eaten meal.

  His eyes smoldered as he undressed every inch of me. “I like fucking.”

  I felt the heat of his stare and wanted to smack him in the face, but I had a choice — cower and retreat or stand up to the jerk.

  “Good for you,” I answered, giving him an I don’t give a fuck what you like to do sort of stare.

  “You look like the kind of girl who could use—”

  “No, I don’t,” I interrupted, staring at him dead on. “You might have a lot of money, sir, but you can’t come in here and proposition people like they were put on this earth only for your entertainment. I don’t appreciate what you were about to insinuate. Money obviously doesn’t buy manners.”

  I finished my scolding just as Ma brought him his bill. She caught part of what I said, but I didn’t care. I was done with the guy, so I ducked into the back and let myself cool down. From the corner of the curtained off office/break area, I watched a driver pop out of the front of his fancy car and open the door for him.

  As they drove off, I felt a wave of relief, and strangely, a tinge of loss. Why? I explored the question. If I was being honest with myself, the rich asshole was sexy as hell. Despite my wanting it otherwise, I was attracted to him. His off-color remark was so inappropriate but… titillating.

  I hadn’t been with anyone in years. My last boyfriend only lasted a year, and I think Dwayne and I broke up because I just couldn’t let down my walls — they were tall and thick, and I knew when the first bricks were laid down.

  Nineteen years ago, my dad bludgeoned my mom with a tire iron. He hit
her sixty-four times, at least that’s what the newspaper reported when I read it years later.

  He thought she was cheating on him, and from all accounts whispered behind partially closed doors, she was. At least that was what I thought I heard them say. I would sneak around the house after everyone thought I was in bed and listen, trying to fit the pieces together.

  I remembered them arguing in the car, me in the back seat. My hands were over my ears, my eyes tightly closed as they screamed at each other. In a fit of drunken rage, he drove us to a remote spot, killed her with the tire iron, then shot himself.

  I remembered the gun. The small, cold piece of steel pointing at me. My heart leaped into my throat, and I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I just started to cry.

  “Please, Daddy,” was all I could get out.

  He turned the gun on himself, and I don’t remember anything else, just waking up in my gran’s lap. I didn’t even know where we were.

  Men… I didn’t really trust them, even nice ones like my ex. I think Dwayne just gave up and moved on.

  “Caitlyn!” Ma shouted.

  I groaned. Great, I was going to get a reprimand for being rude to the rich guy who was about to proposition me. She was waving his bill in her hand, trembling.

  “Whatever you did….” She couldn’t finish her words, just slapped the bill in my hand and looked at me expectantly.

  I glanced down to his signed check. Felt my knees go weak and the world around me turn dark as I read the note written on the top of the bill.

  Caitlyn, you look like a girl who could use… a little extra cash. Use it to change your life, have fun, whatever - KP

  Next to the “tip” line, he’d written $15,000.

  CHAPTER TWO

  KP

  I was expecting that whole thing to feel better than it did. I didn’t extend charity often, but she had me wanting to be a hero.

  Having successfully eaten at my first late-night greasy spoon, I was proud of my accomplishment. I wanted to hate it, but I didn’t exactly abhor the experience. I was out of my element in every way possible, yet I was no stranger to uncomfortable situations. They usually didn’t even register for me.

  Caitlyn was an unexpected surprise.

  Who knew one of the most beautiful women in the country would be tucked away in a dirty little diner? She had the most striking brown eyes and vibrant auburn hair. Her face was indescribable, and her body… even polyester blend couldn’t hide her incredible curves. Caitlyn was poetry, a symphony, and a masterpiece all in one. Frankly, I lost my shit. I never misbehaved in public. Shame on me. Now, I felt off-center.

  She’d jarred me, though, with her refusal. Well, she didn’t actually refuse. I pulled the reins before hitting her with my, “You look like a girl who needs a good fucking” line. She beat me to the punch, and what a punch it was. The feeling was unsettling. I had never been rebuffed. I was trying to pacify myself by insisting that she hadn’t actually denied me. She berated me, scolded me, and demeaned my base nature, yes, but she never really refused… because I never got the chance to ask her the question.

  Now, I felt challenged. I needed to win. Leaving her the money was only the start of my game. I would have that girl purring in my lap soon enough. I let the image settle my brain as I finished watching the weekly dailies on my phone.

  The drive back to New York City was tedious, yet it gave me an opportunity to finish my work. Driving at night meant I escaped the horrendous city traffic. I didn’t like people nosing around my private life, so the veil of night was a welcome deterrent to prying eyes. The drive from Connecticut to NYC had been uneventful except for the diner interlude.

  I couldn’t shake it. Why did this woman vex me? She was just like any other. That was my mantra all the way back to NYC — she was just like any other woman.

  I would be the first to admit that I loved women. No, that wasn’t true. I loved to fuck them. There was nothing better than a woman’s body in the heat of arousal. I was thirty-fours years old and by now an expert. I knew women better than they knew themselves. That was why I vowed that I would never marry one or otherwise commit to one. I liked variety and wanted to taste every flavor and often. I was also not willing to become intimate enough to let anyone near my heart. That was the chink in my armor, but I was up for a good old-fashion fucking any night of the week.

  Caitlyn was definitely high on the fuckable list. I’d thought that with even a whiff of my money and a sliver of my attention she would have spread her legs in the back seat of my Bentley. I was wrong. It didn’t happen often, which made her even more alluring. I could honestly say, I hadn’t seen so much natural beauty in a long time, and beauty was my business.

  As the head of my own film company, I saw gorgeous women at every turn. Sadly, many had been nipped and tucked here and there, and if they weren’t altered surgically, they were so hyper aware of their own looks, it was often a turn-off.

  But the graceful and well-composed little waitress from “bum fuck nowhere diner in the sticks” had me questioning everything. Somehow, nothing could compare to the feisty little waitress who was now fifteen thousand dollars richer because of her biting commentary on my essential needs. She could be even richer if she played her cards right.

  She was on my mind when I woke up the next morning, another first. I wasn’t sure what got to me more — the fact that she turned me down and scolded me or that she turned me down and walked away. I would win her at all costs. I never wanted to enter that god-awful place again, but I was considering it, if it meant a chance at convincing Little Miss I-am-not-here-for-your-entertainment to reconsider an indecent proposal. And hell, yes, she was here for my entertainment.

  Monday morning was chaos as usual. We had meetings back-to-back, notes on the dailies, lunch at my desk. Whining producers who wanted more, accounting and business affairs wanting us to give less. A typical day at the office.

  Passing by her desk, my assistant started to rattle off her list of calls. “Mr. Preston, Sheldon Drake is on line one, he wants an answer for his client today, Elizabeth Mulder is on line two.” But I couldn’t be bothered.

  No one pressured me, especially famous people who thought their farts should be bottled into a custom-made perfume.

  “No, no, no.” I couldn’t take this shit this morning. “Tell them all to fuck off.”

  “Um, well, I think you should probably deal with the Pitt thing, maybe… sir,” my assistant sheepishly added.

  “You can tell Brad to fuck off too. If he doesn’t want to be in a blockbuster movie — which correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s been a while — then he can suck my nuts,” I barked back at her.

  You could hear a pin drop; the place had gone deathly silent.

  Maybe I was overreacting a little, but I was off my game today. I needed a good screwing and a single malt scotch. My assistant was actually a lovely, capable young woman. I was an ass.

  “Tell Brad’s people to have him call me, and we’ll iron out the details,” I capitulated and stalked into my office to be mired in other shit, like production spreadsheets, for a while. Before I knew it, seven-thirty had hit me like a speeding train.

  Rachel slipped into my office wearing a long coat and carrying a large insulated bag. She was my assistant about three years ago, but with hard work and a good word from me, she now headed production at an indie film house nearby. She locked the door behind her and sauntered closer.

  “Am I early?” she asked as she opened the conference room adjacent to the office and started setting out a sushi smorgasbord.

  “Nope.” I tried to bite my irritation back. “Right on time.”

  “I bet you need to let off some steam after you blew up at everyone in the office today?” she playfully needled with a smirk.

  “How’d you find out?”

  Really, the gossip around this place was criminal. Couldn’t I have a good rant without it being headline news?

  “Your assistant’s ‘I wouldn’t go in
there if I were you’ sort of tipped me off. They didn’t have any blowfish today,” she mentioned as she waltzed back into my office. “I’m going to have to be the only thing that blows tonight.” She smiled as she knelt down in front of me and unzipped my trousers. “This should make you feel better.”

  “Arggh…” I cringed.

  “I know, bad sex humor.” She laughed as she pulled out my soft cock, her lower lip stuck out in her signature pout as she started stroking me. “What? Not happy to see me?”

  “It’s been a rough day,” I lied, trying to relax.

  She tugged harder on my shaft. “It’s gonna get rougher.”

  I wanted to be there for her — our Monday night thing — but I wasn’t feeling it. Another first for me. Sex was easy. I had sex mastered. But tonight, sex wasn’t what I was into. I gently touched her, halting her assault on my flaccid member.

  “What about if we eat first?” I suggested.

  “Can’t we have an appetizer?” She pouted as she glided her mouth over me, her tongue edging around the rim of my cock.

  It felt good, she always felt good, and I was relieved when I started hardening in her mouth. Her moans, signaling her satisfaction with my response, had me getting even more rigid. Tingling sensations urged me to rut. Feral grunts escaped me as I thrust into her throat, but my mind was on my sexy little waitress. I was envisioning myself pulsing into her mouth as I held Rachel’s head and started quickening my pace. She resisted me, and her tongue swirled around my engorged head, playing with the ridge. Her hands replaced her mouth on my shaft and pumped me into a frenzy.

  I groaned when she pulled away and threw her coat to the floor, revealing her perfectly naked form as she laid down on my desk and spread her legs. I dove across her and gathered up my papers. “I can’t have us fucking on these.”

  Her hand found my erection and angled it into her tight center. I reached over to open my desk drawer and pull out a condom.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” she purred. “I got the NuvaRing last week. No babies for us. You don’t need your raincoat today.”