Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  “Well then, couch it is!” she sing-songed, having found the plates and silverware and plated the food.

  We sat down on the couch and chowed down. It was delicious. Way better then my cooking, and even better then Maria’s, and I loved her cooking. Jess settled near me, whining. I tried not to feed her too much human food but I couldn’t hold out and gave her a little bit to keep the whining down to a minimum. I glanced over at Amy, watching us with an amused expression.

  “You know, you’re really giving me the full girlfriend experience,” I observed.

  “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary,” she said, swallowing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style. But besides that…” She trailed off.

  “Besides what?”

  “Well, we still have the pact, and I’m actually glad for it. I think we both know it’d be a disaster,” she answered, picking at her food.

  I nodded my head in agreement but I didn’t agree at all. Of course she’d remember the pact. Were we really still talking about some silly drunken accord we’d made five years ago not to fuck?

  Just when we got comfortable and I thought I could actually honor our pact, the goddamn elephant in the room made itself known and we both realized that our bantering could easily turn sexual. More to the point, I still enjoyed just being around Amy as much as I had when we were in college. That flow between us was still there but our friendship had never been easy. Charged, electrical, potent but so far from any friendship I’d ever had. In some ways, that made me think sex with her would be even better. And more dangerous. But that didn’t mean I was afraid of the possibilities like she was.

  “I mean, that’s the only reason we’re still friends now,” she said, breaking into my thoughts, and really trying to sell it to me. “It’s why we’re able to sit on this couch five years after we initially met. If not, I would just be somebody you used to know. Another one of your Ninas that you’d awkwardly dismiss when you were out to eat with your real friends.”

  I felt a little gutted at hearing that. “Hey, hey. Stop,” I said, ignoring my dinner for a minute to give her my full attention. “There is no way you’d ever fall into the category that she’s in. Even if we did hook up, or date.”

  She gave me a look as she took a big bite of her Spanish tortilla.

  “I mean, we would never do…that…” I continued, finishing off my thought.

  “Because of the pact,” she added.

  “Right.”

  We both looked down at our plates. Fuck, this was stupid, us just talking around what we both were really talking about. The selfish part of me kept thinking that if we just got it out our system, that maybe we’d both be the better for it. Then there was this crippling fear that I’d lose her for good if we did hook up and it did unforeseen damage that I couldn’t even fathom right now. On the other hand, who the hell cared at this point? We hadn’t really been in each others’ lives for the past five years in any meaningful way. We had both chosen to disconnect and avoided each other because we had meant something to each other, not that we forgot about each other. It was clear we remembered everything about our time back in college. When she left me again next weekend, would it be another five, ten years before our paths crossed again, if ever? If we had to take the chance of losing each other for good, maybe it would be worth the risk.

  We ate in silence for a few moments. After five seconds more, I couldn’t stand it and I turned the TV on to fill the silence. But that just made me even more restless. Normally, I’d be into watching a Euroleague game and see how my competition was doing, but I could care less. It made my restlessness worse.

  “I’m done, let me get your plate,” I said, unsettled and a little pissed at myself and Amy and this damn ‘pact’. I needed to be doing something other then just sit here, next to her, close but so out of reach.

  “Uh, excuse me?” she asked, her eyes darting from the TV to me, almost reluctantly.

  “In the Chandler and Jessica household we don’t have a lot of rules,” I relayed to her, “but one we do have is, ‘you cooked so I’ll take your plate to the dishwasher’.”

  Finally, I got a smile and it eased my tension a smidge. “I like this household.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll keep you around for a little while.” I winked at her, taking her plate and standing up.

  As I headed toward the kitchen, she said, “I should probably find a hotel soon. I’ll bet Jessica doesn’t like sharing you with other girls.” She added the last sentence with more force, and once again, brought up the fact that yeah, there had been ‘other girls’.

  Plates clinked on the island as I scraped them off. I glanced over, watching Jess love her up. Another first for my pooch. Amy was correct on the preferences of my dog—she usually did dislike the women I brought up here. Either Jess had some weird skillsets I’m just discovering or she sensed my attitude toward Amy was somehow different. Amy, still petting Jess, looked up at me just then and I realized I hadn’t said anything in return for too long.

  “You can stay here for as long as you need, Amy—I mean it. It’s the least an old friend can do.” I could see my logic was working on her. Thank god one head was functioning properly. Before she could refuse or even think about it, I switched topics. “So tell me more about this PR stuff that you’ve been up to.”

  Bingo. Her face lit up. “I was working for a PR firm for a while, but my boss was a lying, cheating gutless dick, so my friend Andrea and I left and opened our own Public Relations firm with some seed money. We’ve been specializing in baseball players for now, so it’s sort of the off season for us in January. But we’re hoping to expand in other markets, not just sports since I’m not all as knowledgeable in that area like Andrea is.”

  My jaw dropped as I loaded up the dishes. “You started your own PR company?”

  “Yeah, a few months ago.”

  “Holy shit! Congrats, Squirt. Ya done good,” I said, impressed. “We should celebrate. What kind of wine do you want, Malbec or Sauvignon Blanc?”

  I grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and pointed at the wine rack.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She put a finger on her lower lip. “Are you sure you want to waste a bottle on me? Shouldn’t you be saving that for the Ninas you have over?”

  “Okay. I see how it’s going to be,” I said, but I was kind of glad to be back in our typical roles. Much safer, less dirty thoughts, and no bouts of despair. “I’m grabbing the Malbec, because I know it’s your favorite after that trip you took to Mendoza. And if you’re not okay with that, well, I guess I’ll just drink the whole bottle.”

  I sat down on the couch, uncorked the bottle, and filled two glasses. Amy crossed her arms and watched me as I poured. I set one glass in front of her, then stuck my nose in the other glass and swirled it around.

  “Mmm. I love those tannins. They’re so…rich.” I nodded, very happy with my choice of adjective.

  “Shut up,” she said with a smile. “You have no idea what tannins are.”

  “Maybe not, but neither does anyone else.” I took a sip. “Mmm. Damn. Now those are some exquisitely sexy tannins.” I picked up her glass and held it in front of her, with an arched eyebrow and a smiled.

  She snatched the glass from me, and took a sip of the red liquid. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring it. “That is delicious. No doubt. I can’t believe you remembered that story about Argentina. I don’t even remember mentioning that to you.”

  “Well, I did remember.” I held back, saying just that. I didn’t want to tell her I remembered every fucking detail about her. How she looked when she stood in my doorframe fingering herself. How she smelled when I tasted her for a sweet couple of moments on the day I left Doña Maria’s.

  She sighed. “Goddamn it, Chandler. I’ve had it with men. Especially men like you. Winning me over with your charming ways,” she grumbled.

  “What are you talking about?” I shook my head. “Guys like me…? You’ve never been with me,” I point
ed out.

  “Exactly. But if we didn’t have the pact, you’d probably be an asshole to me for not falling under your spell.”

  I laughed, loudly. “You’re killing me Squirt. You really are killing me. You’ve probably had more boyfriends then you’re letting on. They can’t all have been that bad.”

  She took a sip of her wine, set it down, faced me on the couch, and made a fist. “Okay, where should I start? Hmmm. Luke, my high school boyfriend—he’d get super jealous when I wore so much as a skirt, and wouldn’t let me talk to other guys at parties.” She let out her forefinger as a number one. “Scott, my college boyfriend—well I told you all about him and his trust issues.”

  “And how he watched way too much porn.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know that, too?”

  “You told me.”

  “Five years ago. Good memory.”

  “I remember everything when it comes to you.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I’d given away too much. “Anyways, sorry to interrupt.”

  She started up slowly, eying me almost suspiciously. “Well, good listening skills, I guess. I was saying how my post-college boyfriend, Jack, was nice enough, but all he wanted to do was play video games. Then there was David, and you know all that already. Other then Scott, he was the worst of the four, by the way.”

  When Amy was done, she had the four fingers on her little hand extended. “None of those guys even knew how to dance. They all sucked, in the end, and if A equals B and B equals C, then A equals C, which means I also suck. By Transitive Property of Equality, I suck, Chandler. Math doesn’t lie. It’s the only reasonable conclusion I’ve come to. There is no other explanation for all my failed relationships.”

  I stared at Amy. She’d always been a little too analytical and regimented in her reasoning skills—take the pact for example—and her list of reasons. I’d always thought of Amy as having elements of a Type A personality but something else was off with that assessment that I’d never been able to figure out. I also recalled that getting her to relax around me had been difficult at times, but once she did, we just clicked.

  “You’ve really put some thought into this,” I said. “And I’m sorry for that. I get that you’ve had shitty boyfriends. But TPE?”

  “If I’m dating guys who suck, and by the law of attraction, I also suck.” She reached for her wine glass again, swirling the liquid absentmindedly.

  “That’s bullshit. You are the definition of amazing.”

  She didn’t flinch, indicating she wasn’t even remotely convinced. Christ, had all these guys really been that bad, or maybe Amy was just that hard on herself? “Am I, really Chandler?” she asked, almost rhetorically. “Then why do I attract these shit guys?”

  “None of those guys even danced?” I repeated that detail to her. I needed an in.

  “No, they didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm, and my jaw tightened. “I danced more with you that one night we went to the salsa club than I ever have with any of my boyfriends.”

  I took another slow sip of my wine and let her words linger in the air for a moment. “Fuck that.” I said, finishing my wine off. “Squirt, I have an important question.”

  She looked at me, all serious. “What?”

  “Do you have your dancing shoes?”

  Her eyes lit up like a puppy about to go for their first walk after being cooped up in a cage for a year.

  “Yes.”

  “Get them.”

  “Get them?”

  “I said, get your dancing shoes, and get your ass ready for a night on the town. We’re going fucking dancing.”

  “You want to take me dancing?!” At last, happiness radiated from her. I felt a rush of happiness at seeing her smile. Maybe it was TPE in action again.

  “Do you have all your stuff?”

  “Yes! You’re the best!” She scooched across the couch and hugged me, pressing her cheek against mine. “I’ll go get ready,” she whispered, and that was the last straw. An instaboner sprung forth in my pants like a sunflower breaking ground on a fine spring morning. I was going to have to stay seated while this thing went down.

  She jumped up. “I’ll wear my nice dress.” She smiled, then took a few steps toward my room where she probably had her things. “You changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, or just going to go in that?”

  I laughed. “Of course not. You really do have to up your boyfriend standards, don’t you?”

  “Well, if you’re going to change, then why are you just sitting there?” she asked. “You can get your clothes from your room before I change, if you want.”

  “That’s okay, I kind of wanted to finish watching this game,” I said, glad for an excuse. “I get ready quick, anyways.”

  She shrugged and left me alone.

  I tried to imagine a whole ten days with her. Here. With me. Especially at night. Sure, I’d keep the pact. We would stay friends.

  I closed my eyes and thought of my great uncle Albert. Finally, my boner went down.

  If I could manage to keep my hands off her for even a week, then I was cured, right? No more lustful fantasies or boners to worry about.

  I opened my eyes, staring off. Yeah, I was so screwed, and I did this to myself, this self-torture. I turned the TV off and stood up. Whatever I felt or was thinking, I was determined that tonight I was going to give Amy a night that she’d never forget.

  Seventeen

  Chandler

  I took Jess for a quick walk while Amy was prepping for the night. When I came back and fed Jess, low and behold Amy was still getting ready in my room. I showered, shaved, picked out my clothes for the night, and then sat out on the couch with Jess while Amy finished up.

  She walked out of the room—my room—and I was happy I was sitting down so I wouldn’t fall over. She looked hot as fuck.

  “You look good,” I said in my best Anchorman imitation voice. She wore an all black leather dress with a scoop neck to display her ample cleavage, which was like a magnet for my eyes. I swear, they’d gotten bigger in the last five years and I didn’t mind that fact. The dress fit snugly around her hips and the hemline reached maybe her mid thigh, if that. Her heeled black boots came up to just above her knee.

  As for myself, I wore fitted dark blue jeans, lightweight black boots, and a black button-down shirt. I got up and walked over to her.

  “Well,” she said, smiling wryly as she matched my Will Ferrell impersonation, “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I’m kind of a big deal.” She sighed and ran a hand on my chest. “Ah, I love that you get my movie jokes.”

  I nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying and not her body, and what I wanted to do with that body. I darted my eyes off her chest when she glanced over at me, and they landed on her legs. “I like the boots,” I commented, sounding winded. This was going to be the longest night ever.

  “Oh these?” she said, demurely. “You mean my fuck-me boots?”

  My cock swelled in my jeans at hearing Amy say the words fuck me. I tried to play it cool, but I realized I was licking my lips as she turned around to grab a jacket.

  “Yeah.” I coughed. “Your ‘fuck-me’ boots. They’re nice.” Nice?! ‘Nice’ was my least favorite word. It doesn’t describe a thing at all. I arched my eyebrow. “I mean, they’re hot. Are you trying to get lucky tonight or something?”

  “Maybe.” She flashed a smile my way.

  “Maybe?” My eyes went wide, as I imagined all of the possibilities for her maybe getting lucky.

  And none of them had to do with a guy picking her up in the club tonight.

  “I have to tell you Chandler, it’s been a while,” she added. “By the way, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “Thanks. Wait—did you just say it’s been a while?” I asked, knowing this conversation was about to get unwieldy. “I thought you just got out of a relationship. Did you not have sex with him?”

  She turned her head and sighed. “Oh,
we did. And even when we did have sex,” she said, so conversationally, “it was always off, you know? I thought it might get better, but it never did.”

  I swallowed and nodded because I knew what Amy was talking about without her having to add anything else. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “No sweaty all nighters with him, huh?”

  “Never…” She trailed off and shook her head back and forth like she was trying to forget a bad dream. “But that’s a conversation for another day. I just want to go out and have fun tonight.”

  Fuck, Amy. No other woman had the ability to drop an innocuous comment about sex into the conversation so perfectly that I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to continue, or stop. Or to offer myself up to end her streak of unsatisfying sex. Jesus, the very idea of an all nighter with Amy was already playing out in my head in full color. In any case, I was beginning to realize that I would have to get comfortable again when talking about sex with Amy since I may never get to actually have sex with her.

  “Well, that’s a shame,” I said, not sure what else to say.

  “It is.” It was simply and quietly stated. “Anyway… Shall we?”

  She smiled and took my arm I held out for her. We each grabbed our jackets and headed out.

  * * *

  “The smoking pig?” Amy arched an eyebrow at the big sign of the bar we were about to enter that said: La Vaca que Fuma.

  “It doesn’t look like much. But it’s a gem, trust me.”

  She looked at me, then opened the door and peered inside. We could hear the regatón beat, still slightly distant. She leaned back on her heels and crossed her arms, which pressed her boobs up in her dress. “This is where you’re taking me for dancing?” Her tone was accusatory. “This hole in the wall?”

  Before I could react, she smiled and did that thing where she grabbed my upper arm again. Using my arm for leverage, she got on her tippy toes and whispered in my ear. “Because it looks fucking awesome. You know exactly what I like.”

  Even on the sidewalk we could hear the music through the outside walls of the venue. She began to wiggle her body to the beat of the regatón, like she couldn’t control herself, like the music made her move her ass and hips like that.