Hot, Quick & Dirty: 12 Steamy Short Stories

by Cleveland, Eddie

  “Thank you, Jackson.” Her soft accent is like music in my ears. “You’re my hero.” She kisses me.

  “Well, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this”—I drop my voice theatrically—“but I was a Navy SEAL.” I throw my shoulders back and stick out my chest like I’m doing some kind of contorted Superman pose.

  “I know.” She laughs. God, I love her laugh. “I think there’s a little stuffed owl around here somewhere that proves it, right?” She giggles and I laugh at her burning me.

  “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” I sit up and grab my pillow, gently lobbing it at her. “I see how it is.” Over Ella’s laughter I can hear Chloe getting up in her room and I realize we need to get some clothes on before this gets really awkward. “All right, let’s get dressed and grab some breaky”—I nod at the door—“before that little munchkin sneaks in here.”

  Ella slides out of bed, taking my breath away as she fumbles around for clothes. My God, she’s simply stunning. Literally, I’m stunned just by the way her soft curves move as she dresses. I have to remind myself to quit staring and get up, but even then, it takes a real effort to make my legs reach over the edge of the bed and for my feet to hit the floor.

  This feels like the beginning of something new for me. Something amazing. And I can’t wait to see how much better it gets.

  26

  Ella

  As Jackson turns onto Sylvia’s street, I see the dark whiskers on his strong jaw jump as he tenses up. His thick fingers curl tight around the steering wheel as his grip tightens and his muscles in his forearms pop into rigid peaks and valleys.

  I know he’s angry about how she has treated me. He’s angry about this entire situation. Is it terrible that I notice how hot he is when he’s angry? I know it’s not appropriate, but my body doesn’t care about social graces.

  When I glance down over his steel eyes, made more intense and smoldering by being pissed off, when every firm muscle in his athletic body looks like it might just tear the flimsy fabric of his clothes, it’s impossible not to notice just how sexy and in control he looks. My pussy clenches and my nipples grow into sensitive, hard peaks. Being with him has awakened a lust inside I’ve only ever read about before. I want him.

  Jackson brings the car to a stop and my attention slides over to the front door of the house I’ve worked in since I came to this country. This is the only home I’ve known for years. It’s sad to think that after all the time I spent here, I can pack up my entire life and disappear from Sylvia’s and Raymond’s radar forever simply by taking one simple photograph and leaving.

  With the exception of a few clothes, nothing else in that house is mine. Guilt splashes around in my stomach as I remember how, when I first met Jackson, I was wearing Sylvia’s things. Strutting around Denver like I had any business wearing her expensive designer clothes.

  I push the thought down. None of that matters now. I didn’t steal anything, not like the countless hours of labor and time she’s stolen from my life. Not like the dignity Sylvia and her boy-toy have enjoyed stripping from me. Not like the dreams they ripped from my heart as I realized that if they had it their way, I would have lived a life of fear and servitude forever.

  All of a sudden I don’t feel so bad about borrowing a dress she never even wore. Instead, a quiet rage builds up, growing angrier with each passing second. Today is the day I walk away from them forever. Today will be the first true day of my freedom.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt, my eyes locked on the front door, and fling the car door open. “You don’t need to come with me. I can do this.” I can’t see anything but the door that sealed my fate for more time than I’d like to recount.

  “The hell I don’t,” he answers, jumping out after me.

  I should know better than think he’ll ever let me walk into a dangerous situation without his protection. I instantly feel secure, just from him walking next to me.

  The front door swings open unexpectedly and I stop dead in my tracks as Sylvia walks out, disgust tattooed on her face, and she points to the inside. “Get your ass in the fucking house right now.” Her words are eerily calm, but I can hear the threats she’s not speaking hidden in her tone.

  “I will go in there.” My voice shakes and I hate myself for the trembling warble. I want to sound brave. I want her to know she doesn’t control me anymore. But my words betray me. “I’m getting my things and I’m leaving.” I clear my throat and continue, “And I’m never coming back.”

  “Raymond, come deal with this.” Sylvia snaps her fingers together and her shaggy-blond goon scurries over like the little lapdog he is.

  “I think you should get the fuck outta here, buddy.” Raymond stands tall as he comes flying out the front door and down the steps at Jackson.

  I watch as Jackson moves into him, twisting his arm up hard at an angle that could pop his elbow out of the socket. Raymond yelps.

  “I think you better stay the fuck out of our way,” Jackson barely breathes the words, but everyone hears him loud and clear. He puts his arm around me and flashes his teeth at Sylvia like a feral dog. “And you better back off, lady,” he snarls at her and she steps back, cowering in fear.

  As soon as we step through the door, I can hear her start to scream at Raymond to “fucking man up,” as I lead Jackson through the lavish house to my modest room. I know exactly where my photograph is and I waste no time rushing over to the bed I’ve slept in all these years, stuffing my hand underneath the mattress edge until my fingertips touch the smooth, glossy paper.

  “Got it.” I tug it out and quickly look down at the moment in time captured on the sheet. The genuine smiles on my parents’ faces. The goofy grin on my big brother’s lips, back when he was trying to practice his pick-up lines and sexy stare for the girls in our neighborhood. My younger brother, Miguel. His cheeks still carrying a bit of baby fat, giving him a look of innocence we lose as we age. There I am in the middle, my eyes sparkling with happiness, my future still not determined. My possibilities still endless.

  I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat, but it just comes back again. I tuck the photo in my pocket and nod over at Jackson, who is watching me closely. He holds out his arm and I let myself get lost in his calming hug as he strokes my hair.

  “I’m ready to go.”

  He nods, holding my hand. He leads me back out into the hall.

  We only make it a couple of steps when Raymond charges at us and Jackson quickly scoots me behind him, barricading me from danger with his body.

  I watch as Raymond lifts his fists, like he knows the first thing about fighting, and tries to throw a feeble punch. Jackson easily sidesteps the weak haymaker and jabs Raymond hard in the gut, dropping him to the ground like a wheezing cry-baby.

  “I told you to stay back. We’re fucking leaving now.” Jackson leads me past Raymond and then unexpectedly turns back, giving him a swift kick in the gut for good measure.

  He grabs onto his stomach and grimaces on the floor as he fills the house with yowling. I don’t even glance at Sylvia as we march past her. I have nothing to say to her. I know I’ll never see her again, and I couldn’t care less.

  It’s all going so fast and yet so slow, like a dream, as we get back in the car and Jackson pulls away. As we drive down the street, I look at Sylvia’s house, growing smaller and less significant in the passenger side mirror until we pull around the corner onto the main street and it disappears altogether. I focus my eyes forward. For the first time since that photograph was taken, my eyes are full of hope and once again the possibilities for my life, my new life with Jackson, feel endless.

  27

  Jackson

  “Daddy’s home!” Chloe thumps to the front door, and Ella and I step back inside, jumping up into my arms with an excitement I know I’ll struggle to remember one day when the teen years eventually come to haunt us.

  “Hey, honey.” I give her a big bear hug, careful not to squeeze her too tight as her tiny frame disappears in my f
olded arms.

  “And Ella’s back too,” she announces as my mother finally catches up to her, smiling at us as we close the door behind us.

  “Hi,” I hear Ella’s soft voice behind me as I place my daughter back down on the floor.

  “That’s something we need to talk about, Chloe. Just give me a second to take my shoes off and we’ll have a little chat, okay?” I muss up her hair, flipping her fiery locks from side to side.

  “Awww, do we have to? I don’t feel like having a talk, Daddy.” She pouts a little.

  “Oh, and what do you feel like doing?” I watch with amusement as her little pout quickly transforms into excitement.

  “What I really want to do is play!” She hops from foot to foot in a little dance.

  “Well, let’s talk first and then we’ll see about playing,” I answer her gently. “Hey, Mom, you already met Ella before.” I nod to the woman I haven’t really explained to my mother yet. “You wanna stay and have tea while we talk with Chloe?”

  “Sure, sure,” Mom agrees, looking from Ella’s face to mine and back again. “I’ll go put on a kettle.” She practically skips away.

  I have a feeling Mom thinks this is going to be a different kind of announcement than it is. Like, the kind you make to your family and friends after you’ve bent down on one knee and slipped a ring on a finger.

  I shake my head and start to walk into the house, but Ella stands still in the entryway, staring.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I tilt my head and watch as I try to make sense of the swirling emotions on her face.

  “Yes, sorry, I just… I guess I just realized this is a home,” she answers cryptically.

  “Um, yes,” I say the word slowly, waiting for her to fill in the blanks. “It’s a house.”

  “No, I know that.” She gives a quick but forced smile. “I mean a home, like this is my new home. The first one I’ve had since, well.” Her words grow too thick to spill from her mouth, choking her up as her eyes water. “These are happy tears,” she explains as she wipes her hands under her eyes.

  “Shhh, it’s all right.” I pull her in and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I understand.” I rub my hand down her back quickly, like I’m trying to sweep the sadness free from her body.

  “I’m good, don’t worry.” Ella steps back and her tears have dried up.

  “Good, let’s go talk to Chloe about all of this. I just want to make sure she understands you’ll be living here now.” I lead her down the hall to the dining room where Mom has prepared a pot of tea, complete with sugar packets and milk. “Wow, thanks for setting this up.” I sit down in my chair and everyone gathers around the table, taking their own seats.

  “Chloe.”

  My daughter is very interested in flicking a sugar packet back and forth and not in what I have to say.

  “Uh-huh?” Flick, flick, flick. She doesn’t bother to look up at me.

  I pour some tea with a sigh. “Honey, can you put that down for a sec? I’d like to tell you something.” I fill my cup and put the pot down, waiting for her to listen.

  “What’s up, Dad?” She smirks at me, plopping the sugar down.

  “Honey, I wanted to let you know that Ella is going to be living with us from now on. When I have to work at night, she’ll be helping to take care of you, understand?”

  I watch as my daughter looks over at my mother and then at Ella. “What about Nana?” Her eyes grow wide. “Isn’t she gonna look after me anymore?” Worry tinges her little voice.

  “Of course I will,” my mother answers for me with a kind smile. “But I’m sure you’re going to have a fantastic time with Ella too.” Mom understands right away what’s going on here and might burst with happiness.

  “I dunno.” Chloe furrows her red eyebrows together. “Ella? Do you like to play pony dolls?” She tries, sizing her up.

  Ella stirs some milk into her tea cup and confusion crosses her tender features. “Pony dolls?” She looks at Chloe for clarification.

  “Yeah, you know, ponies!” Chloe says the word slower, like that will help explain everything. “Like Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity,” she lists off the names on each finger.

  “Oh, do you mean My Little Pony?” I can see her make the connection and Chloe beams.

  “Yup! Pony dolls!”

  “I loved playing with them when I was a kid.” Ella gets surprisingly animated and, for a second, she and my daughter share the same look of wide-eyed joy. It’s hard not to laugh.

  “Dad? Can we be done talking now?”

  “Sure, hon.” I shrug at how nonchalant she is about the whole ‘this new woman is going to be living here’ thing. Little did I know, all this time, anyone could become her best friend forever just by sharing her love of imaginary, talking horses.

  “Great!” She jumps off the chair and runs as fast as she can into the other room. I can hear Chloe digging around through stuff and then huff and puff as she drags something in from the play room.

  As I turn in my chair, I can’t help but laugh as I watch my four-year-old struggle to drag an entire castle that’s probably half her size, crammed full of ponies into the dining room.

  “Let’s play now, Ella,” she exclaims gleefully.

  “Chloe.” I can see she’s not listening to me at all. “Chloe! Hey! How about you just relax a bit and let Ella rest? We just got home and she just sat down,” I try to explain.

  “Is that Twilight Sparkle?” My head snaps around on my neck toward Ella as I do a double take at her question.

  “It is!” Chloe holds out a little purple horse proudly.

  “Oh, she was always my favorite.” Ella stands up and walks over to Chloe.

  “Mine too!” Chloe swirls her arms in wide circles.

  “Well, maybe I can play for a bit.” Ella helps Chloe pick up her toys and walks out of the room with her, leading her back to the play area.

  Chloe leaps like a tiny ballerina after her, barely being able to contain her excitement in her little body. I shake my head and chuckle.

  “Well, it looks like they’ll hit it off just fine.” Mom laughs and I sip my tea.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” I agree.

  “That’s how you know it was meant to be.” Mom rests her hand on mine. “I see the way you look at her, Jackson. I’m so happy you found love.”

  “Love? I don’t know about that.” I brush off the comment and sit up a little straighter.

  “That’s okay if you don’t know it yet. You will.” She taps my hand with her fingers before taking a long sip of her tea knowingly.

  Love? The word floats through my mind as I think it over for the first time. My shoulders relax, realizing that my mother might just be right. Not that I’m going to share that with her right now. That I may have finally found the woman I’m ready to open my heart to.

  28

  Ella

  “Oh my goodness, I’d eat a third bowl of that soup if I wasn’t so stuffed.” Marie licks her lips and looks down at her empty bowl.

  “It really is delicious.” Jackson smiles over at me.

  “Thank you. I’m so happy you enjoyed it. My grandmother used to make it for us all the time.” I fondly remember how she would let me roll up the meatballs after I had carefully washed my hands while she let the broth simmer and got the other ingredients, the rice and vegetables, prepared.

  “Daddy, I like your soup too, the one you make with alphabets in it. But this one is better,” Chloe chimes in as she scoops the last bits of rice from her bowl.

  Jackson and his mother laugh. “Well, that alphabet soup is also an old family recipe,” Marie chuckles.

  “That’s right,” Jackson agrees. “I learned how to open that can and dump the soup in the pot from the best chef in the business,” he teases him mother.

  I try to imagine how my abuela would handle us eating soup from a can, but I have to blink the scowling face free from my mind. I’m pretty sure that just the thought has h
er spinning in her grave.

  “Well, it’s been so lovely to sit and share this with you.” I stand up and begin to clear the table, but Jackson abruptly pops out of his chair and plucks them from my hand.

  “Relax, you cooked the meal. I’ve got the cleanup.”

  For a second I’m so confused I just stand frozen, like my brain can’t understand the simple words he’s saying. For so long I’ve made all the meals and waited for Raymond and Sylvia to stop complaining about my cooking long enough to eat so I could tidy up after them. I wasn’t permitted to sit at the table with them. Instead, I was allowed to eat leftovers, when there were some, after I had finished my chores for the day.

  “Take a load off, Ella.” Marie nods down to my chair. “You deserve a break.”

  I slowly ease back down onto my seat, but it’s still strange to watch Jackson clear the table. Uneasiness rises inside me, like clouds building before a storm. It’s just difficult to go from such a regimented life where fear was a constant to this. I’m definitely not complaining, it’s just going to take some getting used to.

  Jackson carries a handful of dishes out of the room as I let my muscles unwind and lean back in my chair. I gaze over at his mother, who’s been so incredibly welcoming. Every time I look at her, she’s smiling.

  “At Thanksgiving I’ll cook for you.” She rests her forearms on the table, leaning in toward me. “I can’t wait to make you a big ol’ turkey with all the sides. I’m sure you’ve had a bunch of Thanksgivings here by now, but you wait until you try my cornbread stuffing. I mean, if I’m honest, Jackson makes the turkey and my guests bring most of the sides, but that stuffing is the one dish I know I can knock your socks off with.” She beams.

  “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving meal.” I try to imagine sitting down to such a feast, but that much food seems impossible to eat all in one meal.