Suave

by C. A. Bell

  He stopped and looked at me. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after tonight’s fiasco.”

  I ran my hand through my hair, slipped my keys back in my pocket next to his wife’s panties, and followed cautiously, wondering what the hell his game was.

  Hunters

  Max Harper

  “Look, if you’re going to kick my teeth in, I’d rather we just got it over and done with now,” I said, standing at the door, hesitant to enter.

  “I’m not a fighter, Max. Just one drink. Then you can leave.”

  My curiosity got the better of me. I stepped in and he closed the door behind me. If things did get fruity, judging from the form of the guy, I’d be alright. His shorter stature and muscle portion weren’t anything to boast about like mine, but then again, you never should judge a book by its cover.

  He took the lead and I followed him through the lounge area to a door situated next to the fireplace. Heading into the dark room after him, my nerves took a hold until he switched a lamp on. I observed the study type room with its umpteen book shelves, filing cabinet, and huge mahogany desk as I walked towards the window and grinned to myself as I caught sight of the flat bush out back.

  “What’ll it be? No. Wait. Let me guess. You’re a Scotch drinker, right?”

  “I am, but I’ll stick with something lighter. I’m driving.”

  God, it felt so weird talking to this guy after what had just happened. He knew I’d been shagging his wife, but here he was offering me a Scotch. Something didn’t add up at all.

  “One won’t hurt you,” he said, pouring me a large one.

  I watched his every move then took the crystal cut glass from him and looked at the liquid.

  “Take a seat.” He gestured towards a chair positioned on the visitor’s side of his desk.

  I took it, wincing slightly as I sat on my arse wound.

  “Now, then.” He sat the opposite side of the desk. “How do you know my wife?”

  Images of how I’d met Clarisa and what we’d got up to on our first meeting invaded my thoughts. There was no way on earth I could sit here, look this man right in the eyes, and say, ‘I picked your wife up in a bar, took her back to mine and shagged her senseless after sticking a sprig of asparagus up her arse and eating it out’.

  “You can be honest. You can bet your life I’ve heard worse.”

  Heard worse? About his wife?

  I decided I wanted to keep my balls. “We met in a bar.”

  “So, it’s purely a sex thing? You aren’t friends or colleagues?”

  “No, we aren’t friends or colleagues,” I replied, deliberately avoiding the first question.

  “I see. So, this is a sexual attraction. Nothing else? Not love, or lust?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t love nor lust her.”

  “That’s good. Because I do. I know you’re probably sat there thinking how can I when I’m off shagging other women, right?”

  I held my hand up. “I’m not judging at all.”

  “I’m a busy man, Max,” he went on, “and my job sends me all over the world. How am I supposed to resist a dip in a Thai pool or an English river? You know what I’m saying?” He winked.

  I did, but his metaphor was fucking appalling.

  “I can’t help but quench my thirst. You’re a man. You understand.”

  You shouldn’t be married then, mate.

  I nodded, in no position to criticise the bloke.

  “Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be dicking another man’s wife.”

  “In my defence, I didn’t know she was married.”

  “Shouldn’t you have asked?”

  “I never ask questions like that.”

  “Do you think my wife is attractive?”

  His question caught me off guard. I swallowed. This was a dangerous question. If I said yes, he’d be pissed. If I said no, he’d be pissed.

  I decided to be honest. “Yes, I do.”

  “And is she a good lay?”

  I shook my head and placed the Scotch on the desk. This was all too weird.

  I stood. “Thanks for the drink, but this is all just a little bit odd for my liking.”

  “You mean the drink that you haven’t touched?”

  “All the same, thanks.”

  I turned to head out.

  “Okay. Please, let me explain.”

  I twisted to look at him holding his hand out to the chair.

  “Two minutes, then I’m gone,” I said sternly. I didn’t care if I was in the wrong here. These strange questions were starting to freak me out. What kind of man wanted to know that shit?

  “I’m afraid we haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  My forehead creased. “We? What? What are you on about?”

  He stood up and started pacing the floor, drink in hand. “You’re not the first man who’s been ‘caught’ in my house with my wife.”

  I remained silent, still completely in the dark as to what the hell he was going on about.

  “The balcony always seems to be the escape route, but you got out there and away quicker than we’d hoped.”

  A sound behind me caught my attention. I turned to see Clarisa stood there, grinning, naked.

  I snapped my attention back to her husband. “What the hell is this?”

  “Fun,” Clarisa said, walking around my chair and sitting on my lap.

  I moved my hands up into a surrender position. “Wow. Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “It was all an act, silly.”

  “An act? What was?”

  “Him coming home and catching us doing the naughty, and then our little row.”

  I moved forward, pushing her off gently, and stood. “Look, I don’t know what the hell kind of game you are playing here, but I am not interested.”

  “Relax,” the husband said as he stood. “She likes to play with her prey, that’s all. It turns her on to think I’ve caught her in the act.” He kissed her neck then smiled at me.

  “Her prey?”

  “Oh come on, stud.” She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs. “It was all a big game. A big set up. Kind of like role playing. I knew you’d come.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You got me here so your husband could catch us at it? Why?”

  “Not so he could catch us at it. What usually happens is he catches them on the balcony planning their escape, then does his whole ‘are you having an affair?’ act to make it seem like a ‘normal’ situation before we both seduce the guy or girl into joining us. Blake likes to watch,” she said, stroking her husband’s face with the back of her hand.

  I stood there, jaw against the floor. I’d never have guessed it in a million years. I’d heard about ‘hunters’ in the swinging community before, but I’d never actually met any. The whole idea of them was sexy. The woman usually chose her man, or woman, then stalked them down before reeling them into her web and letting the husband join the game once she’d worked her magic. This had taken me totally by surprise with Clarisa, though. I’d never have had her down for a swinger. Fuck, I didn’t even know she was with anyone. And although I was very tempted to say yes, just to get my end away, the thought of another bloke just stood there watching… Nah.

  “It all sounds very appealing,” I said, trying not to offend them. “But I am going to have to decline.”

  She stuck her bottom lip out. “Why? I thought you were up for fun.” She glanced at my crotch. “Or at least you were half an hour ago.”

  “Maybe I was half an hour ago, but not so much now. I get what your thing is and what floats your boat and all that, but, well, it doesn’t float mine, I’m afraid.” I pulled a sympathetic face then turned on my heels and headed for the door.

  “Is that it between us now then?”

  I stopped in my tracks, then twisted to look at her. Her husband walked away to the other side of the room, leaving us to it.

  I smiled. “I�
�ve got your number.”

  Hot Pocket

  Brooke Knight

  “Are you frigging kidding me, Fred? Tell me you are, because if not I am going down there right now to have it out with him,” I seethed, ready to throw shit across the office.

  “Just calm down. And no you won’t. You are not allowed to talk, see or even sniff him, Brooke.”

  “What? So now I have a restraining order against me as well as them trying to temporarily stop my presses?”

  “Not a restraining order, more an advisement. If you are seen talking to him, it could jeopardise your case.”

  “Wanker.”

  The phone line fell silent.

  “Sorry, Fred. I’m just so irked with this guy. I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s not like he’s bloody John Travolta, is it?”

  He chuckled.

  “Fred?” I said in a serious tone.

  “Yes?”

  “Can they really shut me down until the trial is over? Can they really do that?” My heart fluttered as I prepared for his reply.

  “They can. But they won’t. They’ll be far too worried about the comeback after the trial if you are cleared.”

  “If I am cleared. Good God, you make me sound like a bloody criminal.”

  “Well, it’s a criminal offence.”

  “I’m not the one who said it. She was. All I did was print the goddamn shit.”

  “Yes, which reminds me, that was the other reason I rang. They’ve changed their statement. They are working on the grounds of libel, not slander anymore.”

  “And what the frig does that mean?”

  “It means they are taking Jasmine right out of the picture and putting all the blame on you for printing it. Libel is a false statement or article that has been published in the media and has damaged the person in question’s reputation.”

  I frowned. I just did not get why he was coming after me. What the hell had I done?

  I took a deep breath. I needed to end this conversation before my head exploded.

  “Okay, I need to take this in. Thank you for phoning. And if they contact you again, please let me know.”

  “Of course. And don’t worry. We will fight this cock all the way.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Fred. Speak to you soon.”

  “But not too soon.”

  “I hope not. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up then rested back in my chair, completely lost as to what to do. I trusted Fred, but at the end of the day he was just doing his job, and probably just telling me the things I wanted to hear. I couldn’t believe it when he’d said they were trying to shut me down, that me and my magazine were full of lies. I wasn’t and neither was Suave. Sure, we dramatised and exaggerated bits and bobs to make better reading, but we never lied.

  My mobile buzzed on the desk and I looked down.

  Max

  Well, good morning, Miss Knight. I’m glad you finally decided to grant me your number. I was worried I…

  I swiped the screen to view the rest of the message.

  I was worried I wasn’t going to have anywhere to send the winning picture ;)

  I smiled. Even though the guy annoyed me, there was something kind of nice about him.

  I composed a reply.

  I thought it only fair that you should see ‘Brooke’ above the picture when it comes through. Lord only knows you’d probably just think it was one of your other ladies sending naughty pics again otherwise.

  I sent it, and within less than a minute I had a response.

  Make that ‘AABrooke’. You’re top of my booty call list now ;)

  I narrowed my eyes and shook my head as I tapped away on my phone.

  I’m touched. You are also at the top of my ‘booty call’ list. Only three more letters come after the A ;)

  I smirked and pressed send. Before I’d even had time to lock it, it vibrated again.

  Touché.

  “Touché indeed, Mr. Harper. I’ll give you a run for your money.”

  Max Harper

  I grinned at her arse insinuation, sent one last text, then stretched out to each corner of the bed. I still hadn’t quite got over last night and the whole Clarisa thing. After I’d left, I sort of regretted not giving the bloke a show. I probably would have done if they hadn’t been so weird and deceptive about the whole thing. But the fact that they had played me to a certain extent really fucked me off. Max Harper never got played.

  I rolled to the side of the bed and hung my legs over the edge. I was meeting James for lunch to go over the poker game that was taking place next Saturday. He’d rung this morning to tell me he’d got all the info he could, and I was eager to hear it, so we’d made plans to meet in town at a restaurant that was conveniently situated across from where Jasmine worked.

  I rose to my feet with a yawn and made my way to the bathroom. After having a shower and waking myself up, I headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. The time was already past ten and I wanted to call into the department store before I met James, just in case she was hanging around.

  I dried myself from head to toe, threw the towel on the bed, then stepped into my white Armani boxer shorts and pulled them up before performing my morning tenses. I pressed my palms together firmly and flexed my biceps at the same time as scrunching and releasing my ab muscles. Next, I did the legs, tensing and relaxing several times until they burnt. Then last but by no means least, I did the glutes. Once I’d warmed those beauties up, I continued getting dressed. I skimmed the suits in my dressing room, picking out a silver/grey shade and white shirt. Suits were all I wore unless I was slobbing around in trackies on my own or naked with a hot chick.

  After getting dressed I headed for the kitchen, buttoning up my cuffs before switching on the coffee machine and checking my phone to see if Brooke had texted back. She hadn’t. I deflated. The woman was an arrogant fucker for sure, but there was something about her I liked. Something about her that made me smile.

  I placed my espresso mug in the machine and pressed the button. Watching the portion of dark, rich liquid fill the mug, I inhaled the aroma and sighed before taking it from the machine and blowing on it. After allowing it to cool, I shot it back then grabbed my car keys from the counter and headed out, convinced it was going to be a good day.

  ****

  I browsed the menswear, glancing over to the lingerie department every now and again, but so far, no luck. I was becoming impatient, but I had a plan. I headed to one of the nearby counters. A short brunette with a pixie cut hairstyle looked up at me and smiled.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  I lifted my cheeks into a mischievous smile. “I hope so. I’m looking for the person in charge of the women’s underwear section.”

  “That’ll be Gabriel. She’s just there.” She pointed across the room to dozens of people. “The woman with the short grey bob and pin striped suit.”

  “Ah, gotcha. Thank you very much.” I skimmed her breasts for a name badge. “Jessica.”

  Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re very welcome.”

  I thanked her again and made my way over to the Cruella wannabe.

  “Don’t let it happen again.” She looked down her nose at the young girl stood in front of her. “Now, go on, sort it out.” She turned on her heels and found herself face to face with me.

  “Ah, excuse me, are you the lady in charge of the lingerie section?”

  She put on her customer satisfaction guarantee face. “I am. How can I help you?”

  “I’m trying to get in touch with one of your in-house designers, Jasmine Chambers.”

  “She doesn’t work Fridays, I’m afraid. What was it you wanted to discuss with her? If it’s work related, I can give you her office number.”

  I tried to quickly pull a ‘work related’ excuse together, but I couldn’t, so I said, “It is,” hoping it would be enough.

  “Follow me.”

  I shadowed her to the stand in
the underwear section where she pulled a business card from the counter.

  Oh my fucking God. Her number has been sat there the whole time. What a dick!

  I smiled and took the card. “Is she likely to answer on a Friday?”

  “Extremely unlikely as it is her day off, but you can always leave a message. She’s very prompt at getting back to people.”

  I slipped the card into my inside pocket. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thanks,” I said, willing her to leave so I could take the rest of the business cards away with me so Brooke couldn’t get one. That was, of course, if she hadn’t already. But knowing her, she’d probably already had her round measuring her cup size.

  “Very well. Glad I could help.” She smiled and marched away towards the perfume section of the store.

  I glanced around. No one was about except for a woman holding up two black bras, probably debating which one would make her look slimmer but at the same time make her bazookas appear bigger. I looked around one more time, then in a swift movement, I grabbed the stack of cards and stuck them in my trouser pocket before casually making my way to the front of the shop. As I walked towards the exit, guilt pulsed through my veins. Was this theft? It bloody felt like it. I could feel eyes burning in my back, and I swear to God the CCTV cameras were moving with me, zooming in on my hot pocket.

  Once I’d made it outside without getting collared, I headed swiftly towards the restaurant where I was meeting James, ditching the stolen cards in the bin on the way.

  James raised his hand to me as I entered.

  “Alright, mate?” He smiled as I approached.

  “Yeah, cheers. You?”

  He pushed a menu towards me. “All good.”

  I skimmed the lunches.

  “How was your encounter with the big boss lady?”

  I frowned. “Huh?”

  “That woman. The one who runs some magazine or something.”

  “Oh, Brooke Knight. Jeez, man, that was shags ago.” I chuckled, knowing full well that shags should have been singular.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because you know me too well. Anyway, it was hot. She was hot. But you’ll never guess what.”