“I don’t want you to have my number,” I huff.
“I need to know when you’re callin’, babe,” Tank replies.
“I’m not your babe,” I remind.
Tank shrugs. “Not at the moment,” he returns with a grin.
I roll my eyes. “Bye, Tank.”
“Bye, D,” he says. Tank gets out of the car and leans in through my window. “Behave,” he instructs, looking at Lance. Tank looks down at me, offers a grin, and then steals a kiss on my cheek.
“Eww, gross!” I protest, whipping my face.
Tank chuckles as he walks away. “Call me if he gets inappropriate,” Tank directs.
“When have I ever been inappropriate?” Lance balks.
I snort.
Tank takes his index and middle finger of his right hand, points it to his eyes and then out to Lance before turning to enter his building.
“Bye, sweet cheeks,” I holler.
Tank looks back and grins.
I face Lance. “What?” I feign.
Lance shakes his head.
“Jealous,” I muse as he pulls away.
“Nope,” he lies.
“Tank is right, you know,” I declare.
“What?” Lance checks.
“It’s the quiet ones who are always the more inappropriate,” I explain.
Lance smiles. “You’re quiet.”
I pause for dramatic affect. “Dang … you got me,” I say with a wicked grin.
Delilah
I’m able to get my boss to let me switch my schedule around, allowing me to take over Viv’s weekend shifts and some weekday mornings since Vivian is expecting another baby soon. It’s exciting because I have more steady hours, weekends are always busy, and I’ll be able to fulfill my community service easier.
“You’re so lucky,” Brianna squeaks, walking into the break room.
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking a chug of my water.
“Your next client,” she sighs. “He’s so hot.”
“Is that normal for weekends?” I check.
“Sadly, no,” Brianna returns dejectedly.
I smile, excited to not have to touch another old guy or woman.
“I’ll give you all of my tips from today if you’ll let me do him,” Brianna offers.
“I don’t care how cute a guy is … he’s not worth losing all of your tips,” I comment.
“Yes, he is,” she declares. “He’s like Chris Hemsworth hot.”
I pause for a second, envisioning Mr. Hemsworth naked on my table.
“Please,” Brianna begs.
I giggle at how she’s acting. “No.”
“You suck,” Brianna states with mock hurt feelings.
“So I’ve been told,” I return with a wicked grin.
With supplies in hand, I make my way over to the blue lotus room where my client waits. My head is lowered, as always, as I knock and then enter the room. I typically avoid eye contact as much as possible. The less I have to see right away the better. Plus, I’m in need of some serious lady bits pleasure by someone other than myself. If this guy is as hot as Brianna says he is, I don’t need me doing something that would cost me my job.
I place the oils and towels on the counter and check the candles. “Go ahead and get settled on the table,” I direct with a low, calm voice. “Facing up with your towel draping over your body.”
Half of the girls I work with always observe their client in great detail and end up sharing stories in the break room. I avoid it at all costs. I’d rather not see what I’m dealing with other than with my hands.
“Would you like the music turned up or down?” I inspect, washing my hands.
“No,” he returns.
I nod. “Are the candles too much for you?” I ask.
“They’re perfect,” he replies.
Something in his tone causes my head to spin around. My eyes lock with his and heat rises throughout my body to an uncomfortably high temperature. “Lance?” I barely eek out.
“Hi,” he returns with his sexy smile.
“Wh … what are you doing here?” I mutter.
“Getting a massage,” he returns, cocking his head slightly.
It takes me a moment, and then it hits me. “You found out from your girlfriend,” I accuse.
“Mavis is not my girlfriend,” Lance replies sternly. “But yes, she told me where you work.”
“Why?” I press.
Lance shrugs. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a massage.”
“Why me?” I push.
Lance’s smile returns. “Why not?”
I let out a long, heavy sigh. My eyes narrow. “I should call Tank.”
“Don’t,” Lance begs.
“He said to call if you got inappropriate,” I remind sarcastically.
“Not … romantic?” Lance checks.
My mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out.
“Just treat me like any one of your other clients,” Lance suggests.
I snort.
“What’s so funny?” he checks.
“You’re nothing like my other clients,” I explain.
Lance smiles. “How so?”
“First of all, the majority of them are old enough to be my parents … or grandparents,” I say.
Lance nods.
I take another deep breath. “Keep yourself covered and we’ll be fine. Don’t … and I’ll have Tank waiting outside for you.”
“Done,” Lance replies excitedly.
“And, no talking,” I add.
He nods and lays back.
It takes me a few minutes to get into my groove. I do my best not to look at Lance’s face, but I have to for indications of how he’s handling the pressure.
It doesn’t take long for me to start to appreciate Lance’s muscular form. His body is solid, firm, and has just the right amount of body hair. Lance’s skin has a slightly darker glow to it under the low lights and oils. Several times as I work, inappropriate thoughts pop into my head. I try to get myself to focus on the music, but that does little to curb my internal dialogue.
When our time is up, I tap Lance on the arm. “Feel free to get up slowly when you’re ready and get dressed at any point once I leave the room.”
“That’s it?” Lance inspects.
“It’s been an hour,” I say pointing to the clock that rests on the counter.
“Damn,” he huffs.
I can’t help but smile. Though it was uncomfortable at first, it wasn’t too bad.
“One of the hostesses will direct you to the lounge where you can enjoy some refreshments,” I inform.
“When do you get off?” Lance inquires.
I bite back a snicker at the innuendo that popped into my head. “Around five,” I say hesitantly.
Lance nods. “I’ll be outside waiting,” he states.
“For what?” I inspect.
“For you,” he confirms.
“Why?” I ask nervously.
“To take you home,” Lance informs.
“I… .”
“And, to take you to dinner,” he adds, cutting me off.
“Lance …” I sigh. “I don’t… .”
“As friends,” he states.
I study him. “As friends?” I repeat in disbelief.
“As friends,” he confirms. “And, if I get inappropriate at any point, I’ll remind you to call Tank.”
I nod, nervous by how the idea of more time with him is exciting me.
I exit Lance’s room quickly and the last few hours at work move surprisingly fast. I change out of my uniform, and right as I exit the front door, I spot Lance leaning up against his car.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hey,” I return, trying to walk as casually as possible.
Lance opens the door for me and then gets in on his side.
I text Jolene to let her know I won’t be home for dinner, promising to give her lots of details when I get back.
We drive through town, chatt
ing about what kinds of food we enjoy to determine where we should eat. Lance lets me make the final decision, so I opt for Tony’s Sports Bar. There’s nothing romantic about Tony’s, and even though I’m attracted to Lance, I can’t have him or me getting the wrong idea.
There’s an oddly comfortable vibe between Lance and me. Neither one of us feels obligated to talk, but when one of us does, the conversations flow freely and naturally. Lance is rather funny and more open to my jokes—even the sexual innuendos.
“So …” Lance begins.
“So?” I repeat.
“When did you get your first tat?” he inquires, taking a bite.
“I noticed you don’t have any,” I comment.
Lance grins. “That you know of.”
“I saw everything but two very small areas… .”
“I’m not small,” Lance interjects.
I grin. “I wouldn’t know … I didn’t bother to look.”
“Yeah, right,” Lance laughs.
“When I was eighteen,” I say.
“How many do you have?” Lances pries.
“Enough … for now,” I return.
“You plan on getting more?” he checks.
“Maybe,” I reply.
“I’ve always thought about getting one,” Lance comments.
“Bullshit,” I laugh.
“Seriously,” Lance returns with a shrug. “I never could pick what and where.”
“If it was up to me,” I begin. “You’d have a tattoo by the end of the night.”
“Want to wager on that?” Lance suggests.
“What’s up for grabs?” I check.
“What do you want if you win?” he inquires.
I think for a few seconds. “If I win … you have to answer any questions I have.”
“About what?” Lance checks.
“About anything,” I explain.
“So, you do plan on seeing me again,” Lance baits with a grin.
“I do have community service … and there are a lot of witnesses,” I goad.
“And … if I win … you have to go out on another date with me,” Lance states.
I weigh my options, knowing my rate of convincing guys to get a tattoo are very high. “Deal.”
Lance reaches out his hand to finalize the bet. Once I take his hand, Lance says, “Good. Now, I need to plan on where to take you next.”
“Only in your dreams,” I tease.
Lance and I drink and chat well into the night. We stay at the sports bar for several hours before walking around town. We pop in and out of different places and I even try to drag him into a tattoo parlor. Lance plays it cool while I try to pretend to pick out my next round of ink. When I realize that he’s still too sober to get one, I get excited at the prospect of hitting a store that is just around the corner.
“How about this?” I ask, hold up a dildo.
“Put that away,” Lance directs lowly, clearly uncomfortable with where we are.
“That’s what she said,” I laugh. I spin on my heels as something catches my eye. “Ooh, I love this one.”
“Um … what?” Lance pries.
“It plugs in and charges … it last sooooo much longer than any of the ones that need batteries,” I explain.
“You’ve used this one?” Lance searches.
“I’ve got two of them at home … one in each size,” I snicker.
“Give me your phone,” Lance directs.
“What? No. Why?” I ask.
“Because, I need to call Tank and tell him you’re being inappropriate,” Lance replies with a smirk.
“You like it,” I goad.
“What heterosexual guy wouldn’t?” Lance chuckles.
“Ha,” I say, pointing anal beads at him.
I spend the next thirty minutes bouncing around the shop, taking items off the shelves and commenting about them loudly. Most of the time, Lance seems very uncomfortable, but at the same time very turned on by it all.
We continue down the street and end up dancing at another bar where we have more drinks. When I realize that it’s suddenly two in the morning, I tell Lance that I have to go home because I have work in a few hours. I suggest that I take the bus and he objects. I reply that I’m only willing to let him take me home if he gets a tattoo which doesn’t work at all.
When we arrive at my apartment building, Lance pulls into the parking lot and insists on walking me to my door.
“I got them,” I insist, digging for my keys.
“Okay,” Lance returns.
“Ha … see,” I say, holding them up. “Hey,” I whine when he snatches them. “Give them… .” Lips against mine cut me off and my mind suddenly goes blank.
His mouth tastes sweet like honeyed lollipops and his tongue is even more delectable when I get a taste. Our mouths linger for several long seconds as if we’re fighting for the very last bite of a snack.
“I should call Tank,” I whisper.
Lance’s head shakes. “I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he admits. His mouth returns to mine.
My head shakes as my lips cling to his. “I … don’t mix business with… .”
“Pleasure,” Lance finishes after our mouths break again. “I know.”
Clarity forms in my head as if the drunken stupor that’s lingered is suddenly gone. I realize what’s happened and it scares the crap out of me because of how much I like it.
“I need to go,” I inform, taking my keys from him.
“When’s your next day in?” Lance searches eagerly.
“Work or community service?” I ask, fumbling with my keys.
“Community services,” he replies.
“Um … Wednesday,” I confirm.
He cups my face and steals a soft, slow peck. “See you Wednesday.”
Delilah
“Hey, Delilah,” Mavis greets when I walk into the school gym.
“Hey,” I answer, nervously looking around for Lance.
I hope he doesn’t make it weird today for me after what happened the other night.
“We weren’t sure you were coming in since you’re a little late,” Benji states.
“Yeah, I got tied up with my last client which made me miss the bus,” I explain.
“Did you bring anything with you today,” Mavis asks as she fidgets.
“No, I forgot,” I sigh.
“It’s okay,” Mavis returns. “I thought it would be cool if you did. We don’t want the kids talking.”
“Talking? About what?” I inspect.
“We’re not sure if they know,” Tank states.
“Know what?” I ask.
“You don’t know?” Mavis checks.
“Clearly,” I return. “What?”
Tank, Mavis, and Benji look around the room and my eyes follow, trying to understand. I take note that everyone is here—everyone but Lance.
“Lance was … in jail,” Benji whispers.
I choke on my spit. “Bullshit,” I say. “Nice try.”
Mavis isn’t smiling which concerns me. The woman always smiles. “He’s not lying,” she confirms.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, confused.
“They found a bag of pot in his car,” Tank explains.
My heart pounds harder in my chest.
“I didn’t even know he smoked,” Benji comments. “I mean … if I did I would have asked him for some. And, I would have known if he did, but he never smelled of it.”
“How much?” I press.
“How much what?” Mavis asks.
“How much did he have?” I return.
Mavis shrugs.
“About thirty ounces,” Tank states.
My heart stops beating and drops to my stomach. My chest starts to feel like someone’s sitting on it.
“Shit,” I huff.
My brain races as I try to process everything.
“I know, right,” Mavis comments. “I would never have guessed that he smoked.”
“He didn’t,” I r
eply as my eyes focus on a spot on the floor.
“How do you know that,” she asks.
“He was dealing it then,” Benji states. “I knew it. I wish he told me. I would have bought the whole fucking thing from him.”
“Fuck,” I sigh. “I … I need to go.”
“What are you talking about?” Tank asks.
“Where is he?” I search.
“Who?” Mavis checks.
“Lance,” I reply.
“Uh, he’s either in jail or made bail, D,” Tank says sarcastically.
“Which one?” I pry.
“Which one what?” Tank asks.
“Which jail is … was he in?” I investigate.
“Why do you care?” Benji asks with a snippy tone.
“Aww, you care,” Mavis sings.
“I knew it … I knew she liked him,” Benji huffs.
“D?” Tank calls with disappointment on his face.
“Which jail?” I repeat.
“The city’s,” Tank answers.
“I have to go,” I say, turning around.
“Where?” Mavis checks.
I don’t bother to answer, pointing my feet to direct me back to the bus stop.
“Where you goin’, D?” Tank asks, taking a hold of my arm.
“I have to explain,” I state, pulling away from him.
“Explain what?” Tank checks.
“I just have to explain,” I repeat, unsure of how to tell truth.
“You can’t leave,” Mavis interjects. “Mr. Hobbs won’t let you.”
“Fuck Mr. Hobbs,” I snap.
There’s suddenly not a single sound in the room. I look around and realize that I must have shouted my last statement. My head shakes as my heart continues to tell me that all of this is wrong—so wrong.
I’m not sure how it happens, but moments later I find myself on the bus. The sun is still up, reminding me that there’s still a chance to make things right. I’ve never been one to care, but I do now. I’m not sure why. The only other person I would do this for is Jolene. Jolene—I have to text her so she knows what’s happening.
Me: I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner
Jolene: Got another hot date
Me: I wouldn’t call it that
Jolene: He is hot
Me: Yep … but I don’t mean that
Jolene: ??
Me: Something happened
Jolene: Something good?
Me: no
Jolene: what do you need?
Me: to be ready when I call
Jolene: shit! I don’t like the sound of this
Love Happens Page 28