No Pants Required

by Kim Karr

  “Josh and I are getting married the weekend after Labor Day. I know it’s quick, but we both want this. I’d like you to come back for the ceremony. It will be small. Just his family and mine. I hope Amelia will come.”

  Drawing in a breath, I let it out. “I’m happy for you, Mom.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You deserve to be happy.”

  “And so do you, Camden,” she says.

  Yeah, the problem is it’s been so long, I don’t know what that means anymore. Then I think of Makayla and the fun we had. She made me happy.

  The rest of the conversation is spent talking about the wedding plans and Josh. Josh is a cool guy and I’m glad she found someone who makes her happy. She deserves it.

  Once I get off the phone with my mother, I stare out at the ocean for the longest time before deciding to see what Makayla is up to tonight.

  The sun is about an hour away from setting by the time I peek over Maggie’s fence. No one is outside, but I know they’re home. I spotted Maggie’s car in the driveway. Well, spotted is a loose term, since I looked.

  That dick move I made with Makayla has been eating at me all week. After going at her guns blazing and then ceasing fire faster than a gun draw at the O.K. Corral, I probably owe her an explanation. I’ll just lay it all out there, tell her I know she’s a nice girl and didn’t deserve that. That I’m in a bad place right now. In this case, the whole “it’s me, not you” thing is the complete truth.

  There’s one bit of happy already bleeding through the bleakness that is my life—it’s the weekend and for the first time in months, I’m off until Monday morning. Therefore, talking to Makayla should be easy. Tons of time. I can ask her out to eat. Take her to a movie. Something, anything, to atone for my shitty treatment of her.

  If I’m being honest, I thought we might run into each other sometime during the week, either outside or in one of our driveways, or perhaps on the beach, but we never did. I even tried to get some info from Maggie, but her lips were sealed tight.

  Looks like going next door is the best way to talk to Makayla, and I am going equipped with things that should make her smile—her book and iPod. She left them both on the plane and even though I tried to catch her to give them to her, I couldn’t. She really is fast.

  Beer in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, my backpack with her things on my shoulder, I take the pathway around to the patio and knock on the kitchen door.

  It swings open and Maggie stands there, still dressed in her lifeguarding clothes. “Just get home?” I ask.

  She steps aside to let me in. “About an hour ago, but I decided to crash and watch some television before motivating. I have to be at work early in the morning, and I’m already exhausted.”

  Peering through the galley kitchen into the family room, I see no sign of Makayla. “What are you watching?”

  She grabs a beer from the six-pack and heads toward the couch. “Just turned on The Walking Dead. Come watch with me.”

  Maggie and I have watched every episode together—twice. Another round couldn’t hurt.

  Putting the wine in the refrigerator and dropping my backpack on the counter, I grab a beer for myself and follow her. “Sure, why not.”

  Flopping on the couch, she looks over at me. “Feel like ordering a pizza? I’m starving.”

  Dinner. That is perfect. That should get Makayla out here. “Yeah, sure,” I tell her and make the call.

  About thirty minutes later, the pizza arrives, half veggie, no cheese for Maggie, the other half pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese for me. “Derek not around tonight?” I ask, grabbing a piece from the box and taking a bite.

  Maggie puts a slice on her plate. “He has to close the shop. He’s coming over later.”

  Still she says nothing about Makayla, nor does she ask her if she wants to come eat with us. Just as I’m about to suggest she call her down, the kitchen door swings open.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Straight down my center of vision stands Makayla in a bright green bikini, looking hotter than fuck. Looking more sunburned than tan, she plops a bag of shells on the floor and looks right at me, catching me licking my lips.

  “Hey,” I call out, trying to keep my voice normal but feeling like my rising cock took all the high notes and left me with nothing but a squeak. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m not fifteen.

  “Hi.” She smiles, and her nipples instantly pop through the fabric of her top.

  There goes my cock, even higher. I should have gone with denim instead of gym shorts.

  “Hey there, Alexander.” Maggie sets her plate down and wipes her hands. Then with a raised brow and a flirty tone, she asks, “How was your walk?” There’s some kind of hidden code in the way she speaks the words. What, I have no idea.

  “Great, really great,” Makayla answers and stops to wash her hands at the sink.

  With her standing like that, I get the full profile. It’s enough to suck the air from my lungs and make me shift in my seat. That body. She’s tall, not Maggie tall, but tall. And fit. Really fit. And that hair. Her light brown hair is long and wavy. Carefree. She’s not plumped, or primped, or primed like most of the girls I know in New York. Nothing fake about her. Everything about her is just so natural. Flawless is the word, I think.

  Once she’s wiped her hands on the towel, she grabs a glass and gets some water from the dispenser. Drinking it, she walks toward Maggie and me and stops to lean against the entranceway into the family room. “What are you two doing?”

  This close, all I can see is that smooth skin I had my hands all over a mere week ago. With my eyes glued to her, I’m the first to speak. “We’re just catching some old episodes of The Walking Dead and eating pizza. There’s wine in the fridge. Want to join us?”

  Maggie is quietly volleying her gaze between Makayla and me with keen attention.

  The room is set up with the couch facing the television and a chair on either side of it. Passing by me, Makayla casually sits in the chair opposite me, which happens to be at the greatest distance from me as well. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m meeting Eric Sullivan for dinner, and besides, that is not my kind of television.”

  That mixture of red and green haze blurs my vision. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before last week. I’d better think about seeing an eye doctor.

  Clapping her hands together, Maggie practically jumps out of her seat. She’s this excited that Makayla has a date? I really need to get her on my side here. Wait, I don’t have a side. “He called you back?” she asks.

  Makayla looking equally excited makes my body go cold. “Yes, can you believe it?”

  Relief washes through me as I recall who he is. “Eric Sullivan, the owner of Gemstone Gallery in the Village?” I ask. By the way, he’s older, married, with grandkids I think. Phew, nothing to worry about.

  “Yes, that’s him, and he’s looking for someone to manage the store full time. He thinks I might be just the right fit,” Makayla answers, finishing the last of her water.

  Maggie picks her plate up and sits Indian style on the brown leather couch. “Managing? I thought you were trying to sell him your designs.”

  Makayla nods and sets her glass down. “I was, but he’s not interested in that.”

  There’s a concerned look in Maggie’s eyes, as there should be. “You want to work for yourself, be hands-on, remember? Managing someone else’s business isn’t going to help you meet your goal.”

  Before adding my two cents, I wait for Makayla to respond. No sense putting the cart before the horse if I don’t need to.

  Leaning forward, Makayla pinches a piece of pepperoni that has fallen to the side of the pie. “No, it won’t, but Eric isn’t looking for a designer right now; he creates all the pieces he sells himself. He does, however, have a job that will help me learn how to get what I want someday.”

  After a few tiny bites of her vegetables, Maggie makes a face at Makayla. “Not to sound like Debbie Downer her
e, but what’s the rush to get a job? You’re already selling pieces at the surf shop, so why not wait and see how that goes? Besides, I thought you were going to take the summer off and kick back.”

  I assume by Maggie’s comment that she’s not charging Makayla anything to live here.

  When Makayla eats the piece of pepperoni in her hand, I have this urge to lick the grease from her fingers. Shit, I have to shift around in my seat again. She swallows and looks at Maggie. “I don’t know, I just feel like this is an opportunity I shouldn’t turn down. You never know where it could lead.”

  “Not so sure about that,” I finally pipe up. “If you’re looking to learn the ins and outs of the gemstone market down here, Eric isn’t your guy.”

  “How do you know that?” Makayla asks.

  “He’s third generation and looking to get out. I know he’s talked to a few potential buyers since I moved here. He’s a nice guy, but if he’s looking to hire a full-time manager, that tells me he won’t be around much. He has a place in the Bahamas and already spends a lot of time down there.”

  A piece of broccoli falls to Maggie’s plate and she picks it up and eats it. That’s just nasty. “Cam knows everything about business in town. He’s like the walking, talking Chamber of Commerce,” she tells Makayla.

  Walking, talking sex God has a better ring.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Cam. It’s good information to have when I talk to him tonight.” Makayla smiles and that smile does something to me.

  God, I want this girl.

  “Anytime.” I grin and think I should have said something along those lines last week when I kicked her out of my bed instead of the “see you around” vibe I gave her.

  “He knows a lot about managing a business, too, Makayla,” Maggie offers up. I can’t figure her out.

  Makayla watches Maggie plucking the veggies off her pizza one by the one with the same look I’m giving her. “That’s great,” she says to me. “I might have some questions for you as soon as I figure out if going out on my own is the career path for me.”

  I raise a brow. “I could be like your teacher.”

  “Teacher?” Maggie laughs, choking on a pepper.

  “Yes, teacher. I rather like the sound of that.”

  Instantly, Makayla’s cheeks turn pink.

  Maggie rolls her eyes and stands up. “Blah, blah, blah. Enough of this boring conversation. You two are way too grown up for me.” She looks at me and raises the hand with her empty. “Another?”

  I relax in my chair, relieved this situation isn’t uncomfortable and feeling like Makayla and I might be able to move forward. Maybe with the whole no-strings-attached kind of thing. “Sure, I’ll take another.”

  Alone in the room together, I’m about to ask Makayla if she wants to go out to eat tomorrow night when she stands up. “I need to take a shower and get ready, but it was good to see you, Cam.”

  And just like that she’s gone. Blowing me off like, well, like the asshole I was, I guess.

  Something inside me doesn’t feel right, but at the same time I know it’s my own fucking doing.

  Pizza finished, beer gone, and the Walking Dead episode just ending, I’m slouched in the oversized chair when I hear the creak of the stairs from the small hallway behind the couch.

  Maggie, who is now lying on her back on the couch, rises to look over it. “Oh, my God, you look fantastic. I’d hire you.”

  The earth seems to be shifting a little beneath my feet and I wonder if they are even still on the floor.

  Makayla is a knockout. She’s dressed in a tight black skirt and a top that shows a hint of her abs. Not exactly Wall Street attire. Maybe she should cover up? However, I suppose for an interview in the retail industry it’s appropriate. The room is still shifting beneath my feet. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re not experiencing an earthquake here. I’m having trouble staying upright.

  “Cam, doesn’t she look great?” Maggie prompts, and I can tell she’s up to something. Either she wants me to feel like I might have ruined the best thing that could have happened to me or she wants me to go after the best thing that could happen to me. The jury is still out on which.

  Either way, the smoldering look I cut Makayla can’t be helped. “Yeah, you look great.”

  “Thanks, you two, wish me luck,” she says and opens the door to the driveway. And again, just like that, she’s gone.

  You two?

  Now, I’m a part of a you two?

  “Pinkberry or another episode?” Maggie asks.

  “I’ll pass on the Pinkberry shit, but we can watch another episode if you want,” I mumble, intending to wait around for Makayla’s return anyway, so I can ask her out.

  “Hmmm.” Maggie points the remote at the television. “You’re in a mood tonight.”

  Perceptive girl.

  Well into our third episode, Maggie has turned over and is fast asleep on the couch. It’s after ten and Makayla still hasn’t returned. Opting to leave her a note, I grab paper and pen from the kitchen and head up the stairs to go into her room. I’ve been in here a million times helping Maggie lug shit. That was before it was Makayla’s room, though.

  I look around.

  Everything is so neat and organized.

  But I already knew by her personality it would be. What surprises the ever-loving shit out of me, though, is the vibrator plugged into her laptop.

  The image of watching her getting herself off with that little thing is hard to push aside. That sweet pussy is all I can think about now. Five fucking minutes is how long it takes for me to move toward her desk.

  Just as I set my paper down so I can write my note, I hear a car engine in the driveway.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Wish I’d gotten her phone number and texted her now.

  Hauling ass down the stairs, I have no choice but to sit in the chair and pretend to be sleeping. If I don’t, when she walks in, all I’m going to do is smirk at her. The door opens, and I hear footsteps.

  Needing to rouse myself before she escapes up the stairs, I’m just about to pretend to open my eyes groggily when I hear wet smacking sounds, like kissing.

  My eyes fly open at that.

  Derek is leaning down over Maggie. “Hey, babe, sorry I’m so late.”

  She sits up and rubs her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she tells him and wraps her arms around his neck.

  Grabbing onto her ass, he lifts her up. “How about I take you to bed?”

  My cue to get the fuck out of here. I clear my throat.

  Derek swings around with Maggie in his arms. “Sorry, thought you were sleeping, dude.”

  Bolting to my feet, I nod in his direction. “Don’t worry about it, man—it’s late and I should be going. Thanks for the company, Maggie. See you around, Derek.”

  “Okay, Cam. See you tomorrow,” Maggie tells me and then ducks her head to find Derek’s lips.

  Grabbing my backpack, I hightail it out of there and over to my house. I spend the rest of the night in my room waiting to hear the sound of another car engine in the driveway of the house next door.

  It’s after midnight before that sound comes.

  Deciding stalker doesn’t fit my personality, I opt not to run outside.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  I have something so much better in mind to get her attention back on me.

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  MAKAYLA

  CAM’S MOUTH. THAT’S WHAT I want on my clit instead of this vibrator.

  More than his mouth. I want his hands and fingers. His teeth and tongue. I want to feel the crush of his weight on top of me. See the whisper of his eyelashes as he closes his eyes to kiss me. Hear the sounds he makes when he comes.

  I want a lot.

  But you can’t always get what you want. Wait, isn’t that what the Stones sang? I think so. Now, I’m singing it too. Another song to add to my karaoke list should I e
ver endeavor to try that again.

  At least I can say that I have checked numbers one, two, four, seven, nine, and ten off my list. Oh, and Maggie agreed to let number eight slide.

  Wear a bikini ✓

  Have sex with someone you don’t know ✓

  Fuck on the beach

  Join the Mile High Club ✓

  Get drunk and let someone else worry how you’re going to get home

  Give a guy the best blow job of his life and make sure he knows it

  Get a vibrator ✓

  Don’t plan your day for the next thirty days

  Take a nude selfie ✓

  Read an erotic romance novel in public ✓

  I’m counting the almosts.

  Why not?

  There are no rules about it, after all.

  As for number nine, I took a nude selfie this morning. It’s on my iPhone. Not that I will ever be sharing it with anyone. That is a big, fat never.

  List. Oh, list. I’m more than halfway there. And I already feel so much less uptight. It really is working.

  My vibrator is working, too. Every single one of my nerve endings is on fire. I’m so close. Almost there. Almost. A little more. Just a little more. I push up the hem of my sundress. Adjust my stance. I already tried this naked on my bed. The outcome was dismal. I tried it in the shower, again to no avail. Now I’ve taken my panties off, I’ve got one leg up on my desk, and I’m going to town with this damn thing.

  Okay, I must be doing something wrong because it’s now ten in the morning and still no orgasm.

  Trying really hard to get in the zone, I almost topple over when “Like a Virgin” blares through my open window.

  Turning the damn contraption off, I fly over to the window.

  Oh, my God!

  Cam is lying out in a lounge chair in his yard. Shirtless. Reading a book. Wait one minute. I open the screen to the window and lean out. Farther. A little farther still. Any more and I’ll be a pile of flesh on the rooftop of Maggie’s outdoor patio. Without cause, the small hot-pink device in my hand slips out, and down, down, down it goes, landing right in our backyard.

  You have to be kidding me!

  Not worried about that thing at the moment, I grab my phone and press camera. Needing to be certain, I zoom in and snap a picture. Backing away from the window before I lose anything else, I look at the photo.