by Mia Moore
We were almost at the front door where she stood, a fraction of a smile on her lips.
“Nonsense. Water under the bridge.” And a little louder, for her benefit, “Maggie insisted that you stay with us. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”
The fleeting look she shot me could have frozen fire, but she managed a grin. “Gus! Come in. It’s so good to see you. It’s been…what, six years?”
I slipped by her and turned to watch when he answered, “Maggie, you look great! Maybe a few pounds heavier but hey, you carry it well. I always thought you were too skinny.” He hugged her and I shrugged at the snarling grimace that flashed on her mouth above his shoulder.
Well, off to a marvelous start… I turned and walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom, stopping at the door to set his suitcase down. Gus and Maggie appeared, his arm draped over her shoulder, a look of flight or fight in her eyes.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be staying here, seeing you again Bro’. This sure beats a flea-bag hotel downtown and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.” His gaze turned to Maggie and hand followed up with a resounding swat on her rear. “How ‘bout that drink? Beer, please. I’m parched from travelling these dirt roads out here in the sticks.”
Oh shit. The wide eyes and straight gash of her lips before she extricated her body would mean an earful for me later. Forget the romantic weekend in Chicago; I’d be lucky if she didn’t divorce me.
I turned the door handle and pushed it wide before turning to look at Gus. He was checking out Maggie’s ass and legs as she walked away, a small smile on his lips. I cleared my throat and ventured a comment to get his attention, “I hope you brought swim trunks. I thought we’d have drinks on the patio, but it’s so hot maybe you’d like a dip to cool off.”
He turned to face me and his eyebrows rose a few times, in a gesture that was at once familiar and disturbing. I’d seen him do that to girls he dated before boffing them. “Whew baby. Maggie and the hot little mini-skirt…”His hand rose, gesturing like he’d touched a hot stove. “I’m going to need to cool off.” He brushed by me and stood in the centre of the room, his head swiveling to take in the queen-sized bed, dresser and oriental carpet on the floor.
“This is nice, Phil.” He looked at me and for once his face was serious. “I know I can be a bit much, you know the mouth opens before the brain’s in gear, so to speak… I promise to try to find a place so I won’t be here a full week…It’s just that…man, it’s good to see you.” Once more he gave me a breath-taking (literally) bear hug.
When I stepped back, I noticed the frayed, worn collar that his longish brown hair didn’t quite cover. The sneakers he wore looked like he’d bought them in the last century, the nail on his big toe threatening to escape the confines of the Chinese plastic. A knot formed in my gut. Surely, Maggie could see that he was down on his luck and take pity.
“How are you doing, Gus? This job you’ve got? At an accounting firm? I thought you would go into engineering. I mean that WAS your major in college. What happened?” I stood watching his gaze drop to the floor and immediately regretted putting him on the spot.
But it didn’t make sense. HE was the guy voted in the yearbook as the most likely to succeed—OWN an engineering firm, not just work there. And now, accounting? It was hard to visualize the muscular, athletic man in front of me at a desk in a tiny cubicle.
“You know me, Phil. I was always the adventurous one.” He looked up at me through eyebrows once more high, but this time, there was optimism. “Remember the time in high school that we double dated with the Hadley twins? The drive-in? When you went in for popcorn and drinks…how they switched and you couldn’t tell the difference?”
A smile creased my face but HE was the one who got it wrong. I DID know the difference. The cologne gave it away and there was no way I was going to have anything to do with Amy, not when I’d already been with Arienne…and especially after he’d…
The snort that erupted from his mouth dispelled the memory. I shook my head and rolled my eyes before continuing, “Phil. Let’s get that drink. We can talk outside.”
“Amen to that little buddy.”
He strode over, clapped me on the back and as he padded down the hallway to the kitchen, I countered the familiar joke, “I’m not your little buddy. I’m two inches taller and worlds smarter Gus.”
He took the bottle of beer that Maggie handed to him and downed half of it in one long swig, his eyes meeting mine. My gaze flitted to Maggie, noticed the slow breath and rise of her chest, knuckles ivory, clutching the edge of the granite counter. I picked up the icy glass of vodka, soda and took a long hit. It was going to be a loooong week.
Chapter 4: Gus
There were times that this line of work sucked-like seeing the pity in Phil’s eyes, feeling the lump of lies in my gut, heavy as sin. He was my best friend but still I couldn’t tell him…not yet anyway and maybe never. Working undercover, banking a ton of money and living the jet setter lifestyle between gigs. Another part that sucked—being assigned too soon after the last one in New York.
But Phil…He’d done well for himself, nice home in the country, sweet, pretty wife…all he lacked was the golden retriever. Compare that to five star hotels in Aruba, Hedonism and all the hot pussy I could handle…not on a bet, for me or most guys.
I held the bottle out, glancing from Phil to Maggie. “Here’s to us. Good buddies through thick and thin and their sexy women.” Catching just the smallest flicker of Maggie’s eyes, I couldn’t resist. Pasting a lewd grin on my face, I glanced at her chest, the button securing the blouse over her boobs, straining, leaving an open loop for her lacy bra to peek through.
I smiled into her eyes noticing the two spots of red that flared high on her cheeks.
It wasn’t that I disliked Maggie or anything. But sometimes she struck me as a bit of a tight ass. The shock value was always premium when it came to her and I had a hard time swallowing the chuckle that burbled in my throat.
Her jaw muscle in that finely sculpted face worked hard and she turned, almost flounced out the patio door, wine glass and bottle gripped in her hands. Oh no, the look on Phil’s face, like he didn’t know whether to shit or wind his watch…maybe I’d gone too far this time.
“Gus. You want to ease up on any sexist comments around Maggie. She doesn’t like them and—”
I clapped him on the shoulder and held my hand there, giving him the benefit of my most contrite expression. “Sorry buddy. Y’know, old habits and all that.”
He took a step to follow her. “I know but still…”
I motioned a zipper across my lips, stifling the chortle. Since when did you become so whipped my old friend? You always were a bit on the conservative side but she’s got you wound so tight you almost squeak. As we crossed the flagstone patio, every stone set perfectly in place like the blades of the freshly mown grass, I watched Maggie take a seat at the table, thighs pressed tightly together, gracefully lowering her derriere—not ass, that would hint at some sort of sensuality, for God’s sake.
If she were my wife, I’d show her a thing or two. I’d fuck her so hard she’d scream for more. Do they ever have wild monkey sex or is it always missionary, with the lights low, if not off? As Phil passed by the back of her chair, his hand giving her shoulder a reassuring pat, it was almost too much. Did they ever let their hair down now? I knew that Phil was capable, had witnessed it in school, but Maggie? She must have had some fire in her belly to land him.
Rather than take a seat next to them, I kicked off my grubby sneakers and sat on the edge of the pool, draped my feet into the water. “This is great! These old dogs were howling, let me tell you. C’mon over you two. I don’t bite.” I flashed a grin at Maggie, “Unless you want me to.”
Phil got up but Maggie slipped dark sunglasses onto her face. “I’ll pass.” With a sniff, she turned to gaze at the flower bed that bordered the side of the yard.
I watched her drain half of the glass of wine and there w
as a sharp thud when she set it on the table to refill it.
God it was hot. The sun beat down like gangbusters and the only shade to be had was at the table where Maggie was perched like an exotic bird. I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it behind me as Phil took a seat beside me. Maybe it was better this way—just me and him talking quietly, getting squiffed, hanging out like old times.
At the silent frown he shot my way, once more I muttered an apology.
“So, how’d you end up with this job Gus? You never answered my question, earlier. Somehow, I can’t see you in an office like that.” His voice was soft yet insistent, eyes probing mine.
How do I tell him that it’s not a real job, but another assignment, this time investigating money-laundering. How else would those two mediocre hacks end up running a business that claimed a loss yet was doing well enough to sit on the most pricey piece of real estate in the city? I’d seen this kind of Mom and Pop operation before and now those people were ciphering the years left in prison.
“Things change Phil. I’m not the super jock, football star anymore. It’s not exciting but it’s a living. I took a few courses at night when the engineering thing didn’t pan out.” Engineering thing. Yeah right, more like being groomed for the government and training at Quantico.
From the corner of my eye I noticed Maggie rise and start walking back into the house.
“Bring us a couple cold ones, will ya darlin’?” I called after her, and smiled when her back stiffened, mid step.
She turned and this time, there was no smile in either her voice or on her lips when she spoke, “Phil, can I see you in the house for a minute?”
Phil’s eyes went wide and he looked to the side before scampering to his feet. As I watched him scuttle after her, I made up my mind. Since I was probably going to be asked to leave soon, why not have some fun with this?
I stood up, unzipped my jeans and slid them off to take that cool dip Phil had mentioned. Hope Maggie didn’t mind her guest skinny dipping.
Chapter 5: Maggie
“Are you fucking kidding me? He can’t stay. No way or I’m going to kill him.” The vein in my temple was beating a war drum. “Maybe I’ll kill YOU instead.” I stared at Phil across the island counter-top, my fingers thrumming, clicking the stone surface.
“I’m sorry Maggie. Of course, you’re right. He’s a little hard to—”
“Hard to take? That’s an understatement if ever there was one! And the dismissive way he treats me, like I’m sort of serving wench instead of your wife!” Air hissed from my nostrils like a bull about to charge. “I’m not going out there again. You can entertain him, serve him dinner, let him choke on it for all I care.” I turned, grabbed another bottle of wine from the fridge and ripped the cabinet door open to snatch a tumbler. Fuck the wine glasses. If I was going to drink alone, pass out to get to tomorrow, when HOPEFULLY, he’d be history, then lead on, McDuff.
Phil took a step towards me and I held the bottle out, stopping him dead in his tracks. He looked scared and so he should! I turned, my feet clacking like bullets of a machine gun across the ceramic tile, “I’ll be in the bedroom getting drunk. You and Gorilla—that’s what he is after all, a NEANDERTHAL—have fun.” With that, I left the room.
I slammed the bottle onto the night table and flopped down on the bed. My hands shook, filling the tumbler with wine. Some of it splashed and dribbled down my chin, ending with a drizzle on my new white blouse. Great! Red wine will never come out. It wasn’t enough he ruined my day, my weekend, but now he’s ruined my blouse!
Fuck it. Who cares! I swallowed another healthy dose to the immediate relief of muscles knotted tight. How could Phil, who’s one of the sweetest, most gentlemanly guys to walk the earth, be friends with such a boor? Sure a guy’s guy was one thing, football and all those testosterone laden sports but…but, Gus was a pig—ogling me and treating me like some skanky barmaid.
My foot started to jerk up and down, even though my legs were crossed tightly poised on the edge of the bed.
Oh God, I shouldn’t. I told Phil I’d quit. Fuck it. Fuck him. I got up and opened the bottom drawer of the night table, pulled it all the way out. There, tucked under two thick novels was the package of smokes and the lighter.
I poured another glass of wine, almost to the brim and tiptoed out of the room with the cigarettes in my other hand. Down the hall and past the living room to the front door, until I was outside, where I breathed a sigh of relief. But my shoulders sagged lower. Shit, I’d gone almost two months without lighting up and Phil thought I’d quit. Now here I was smoking and it was all because of that boor.
I popped one into my mouth and flicked the lighter a couple of times till there was flame. With a long drag, my eyes squinted surveying the expanse of lawn, immaculate as the greens of the Savannah Golf course. And then I saw it. The red Mustang nosed close, almost touching the bumper of my Honda.
My feet stumbled before I caught my balance walking over to it. God, the cigarette tasted good, even if it DID make me a little dizzy. Wine sloshed over my fingers and I fought the urge to wipe it on his car. That would just be childish and…I smiled and poured some onto the tan leather seat. Take that.
I strolled around to the rear, taking another long sip of wine. New York plates? I thought Phil said he was coming here from Chicago? After a small shake of my head I took another haul off the cancer stick. Who could believe anything that Gus said? He was probably some small time hood running from the law. Maybe that was why he’d been so agreeable to stay with us. The car was no great shakes. It had to be at least ten years old. Loser.
I finished the cigarette and flicked it onto the driveway, and paused mid-step at the sound that drifted in the air, like the wispy smoke of my cigarette. Was that music? Holy fuck, I’m off by myself, pissed off which of course, Phil knows, and he’s playing music? Fat lot he cares about me!
I strode back into the house, not even bothering to hide the cigarette package in my pocket, made no attempt at being quiet. Fuck them. What were they up to?
In the bedroom, I inched towards the patio door overlooking the pool, coming at it from the side till I could see them. My jaw fell to the floor, landing next to the glass that slipped through my fingers.
Gus was naked? NAKED? Standing there in his birthday suit, taking a haul off…my eyes dropped to the flagstones…his FOURTH beer?
Don’t Maggie; you don’t want to…but I couldn’t help myself. The way he stood, so straight and tall, feet casually spread, muscular calves and thighs as thick as tree trunks to where it dangled, a kielbasa sausage freezing the breath in my chest.
Did he just look at me? I jerked back behind the curtain, heart pounding in my throat, gasping out the air that pushed behind it. Oh my God, I needed another drink to calm down.
Had he expected me to return with Phil so he could put on some sort of show for my benefit? He probably thought I was some kind of prude or something, trying to shock me. This time, when I filled my glass, hands still shaking, some of the wine dripped onto the hardwood floor.
But, what about Phil? How comfortable was he with his best friend cavorting around nude? Why hadn’t he told him to put the pants back on in case I happened to go out there again? Not that I would! That’d take some of the air out of his balloon head—putting on a show but no audience to be found. Hmph.
I took another long drink and crept back to the screened door. He was standing in the same spot but had turned slightly giving me the absolute ‘full monty’, as the Brits say. This time I started at his shoulders, the round fullness of the muscle there, the light downy covering of light brown hair on his pecs, following the fine line of fur separating a six pack set of abs, the trim tummy to…no hair there?
Somehow, that made his cock more obscene, as lecherous and scary as a python trailing across his thigh. My heart just about stopped watching his lips curl up in a smile, his fingers sliding his sunglasses up and onto the top of his head.
Where was Phil? Surely
if he’d….Oh God, he was turned the other way, scooping some grass from the surface of the pool.
Now Gus openly grinned, made no pretense of pretending he hadn’t seen me spying. His hand rose and he sucked the last of the beer from the bottle. “I’ll get us another round buddy.”
My eyes were almost resting on my cheeks like big marbles, as I watched him step towards the house. Frozen in place I heard the fridge door open and the clink of bottles before footsteps and Gus’s body entered my line of vision from the patio door.
Of all the fucking nerve! He flashes me, helps himself to our beer while I cower in the bedroom! The sidelong grin he shot me as he joined Phil at the pool was the icing on the cake. He was laughing at me, probably thought I’d be too scared to call him on prancing around nude.
I watched them silently as they sat on the edge of the pool. When my glass was empty, I poured another one, breath hissing through my nose. Their intermittent laughter, the music—I’d been dismissed as casually as a worn out shoe.
Once more my jaw dropped as Phil rose and pulled the light Polo shirt over his head. The muscles in his back, accented in the shadow cast by the rays of the sun, worked as he pushed his pants down and off, stepping out of them before slipping into the pool. I guess that made sense, considering the heat, the company he was keeping and the five beers.
I finished my wine just as he finished swimming the length of the pool and back. He popped up onto the side of it, next to Gus. The next thing, Gus let out a laugh and gave a push to Phil’s arm. All this guy bonding stuff was so damned cheery, wasn’t it? They didn’t give one good God damn about me sitting all alone in here, did they?
My feet slipped on the smooth, wooden surface as I made my way back to the bed and the bottle. Ooops. I’d better be careful. If I fell and hit my head, I could be lying unconscious for days before they’d even notice I was missing. Well, fuck them!