The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  I stroll through the front door tossing my keys in the basket. Aaron isn’t downstairs anywhere, maybe he’s outside in the pool or sunbathing, he loves it out there.

  I pour a drink and exit through the French doors that open to the backyard. I spot Dax, our pool man. He’s a bit hard to miss, the man is a six foot seven inch, blond, fuck-hot freaking Adonis. He’s here doing the weekly clean. If he weren't straight, I would sell my soul for a taste of that.

  “Hey there Dax, working hard?”

  “Hi Damien, you know it. How are things going in the corporate world?”

  “Great, just great.” I wink, knowing it makes him nervous. “Have you seen Aaron? I thought maybe he was out here.” Dax is too fun to flirt with it makes him stutter.

  “No-nope. I haven’t seen him. But, I used my own key for the gate, I didn-didn’t knock on the door.” Dax shields his eyes blocking out the setting sun. A pink flush creeps into his cheeks.

  Dax is just too much! "Okay thanks. How’re things going with you? How’s Marcy?” I lean against the grill, hooking my thumbs in my pockets.

  “Ugh, that’s a long story. Things just didn’t work out so well. We split last week.” He shrugs his shoulders and his blond hair falls around his shoulders.

  “Damn, really sorry to hear that man. Other fish in the sea and all that.” He really doesn’t know how damn sexy he is. Makes him even hotter.

  “Yeah, I suppose so. Not really looking right now though. I figure it’s better to stay single a while. I’m a bit burnt out on meaningless relationships anyway, that gets old quick.” He flashes me a smile and continues cleaning the pool.

  “I understand that. Well, I’m off to find Aaron. You have a good one.” I wave to him as I turn and head back into the house.

  “Same to you Damien.”

  Dax won't have a problem staying single with that long blonde hair that trails past his shoulders and cobalt blue eyes. I can guarantee that.

  Back in the house, I speed up the spiral staircase towards the bedroom, still laughing inside about Dax. Aaron must be on the phone, I hear him mumbling and laughing. I love his laugh, it’s so deep and raspy, but has a hint of kid-like innocence spun into it somehow.

  I turn the brass doorknob and slowly open the door. I peek through the crack in the doorway and my heart skips a beat. No way!

  My face heats with anger and shame. I shake my head from side to side in an attempt to clear my vision. My eyes are not deceiving me. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. A cold sweat bead drips down my forehead and my pulse races. My breath puffs out in ragged gasps. I might hyperventilate.

  Aaron’s in our bed, he’s naked with another man. I can’t tell who he is; all I see is dark black hair. My heart’s being stoned like a witch in Salem, and it feels like someone just played gladiator on my heart with a sledgehammer, pieces splinter inside my chest cavity.

  My mouth won’t cooperate with me. I can’t get enough air to vibrate into my throat to even speak or yell. I gulp, like a guppy sucking air at the top of a dirty fish bowl.

  I close my eyes, rub my lids, and look again. Aaron’s scrunched up behind him, thrusting himself into the man. Faster and faster, he lets out a throaty moan as he pumps into him. His eyes are closed and he bites his lower lip. He’s really into it and it makes me ill. He throws his head back, his long brown hair flips over his head, and falls to the middle of his back. He arches his entire body backwards, causing his pelvic region to push into the man. He glides in and out of him. I’m going to hurl…

  “Fuck Aaron, oh God you feel good,” the stranger in our bed purrs.

  “You like this, huh? I’m gonna cum all over that sweet ass right now just like you want me to.” He smacks the man’s ass.

  Aaron jabs several quick thrusts into him, letting out a loud groan, “Oh yes!”

  I slap my hand up to my mouth, trying to cover it before I choke on my own saliva, but it’s too late. Aaron hears me and turns my direction. Our eyes meet, mine full of disgust, his full of ecstasy, yet shock at the same time. I hate that the ecstasy part outweighed the shock.

  “Fuck!” Aaron pulls out of the other man and reaches for a towel. “Damien, I’m…ah shit. I’m sorry, it’s not what…”

  Breathe! I’m sucking in air as hard as I can to find my voice. Please let my lungs work now.

  “It’s not what, Aaron? What it looks like?” I shake my head in detest.

  “Please listen to me Damien.”

  The man scrambles in the sheets to cover himself and scans the room for his lost clothes. They are strewn from the door to the bed dude, good luck getting them! He looks from me to Aaron, not sure what’s about to happen. Neither am I right now, but bat shit crazy on his bitch ass comes to mind.

  I shake my head. “Get out, get the fuck out now!”

  I try to make my way to the bathroom. I’m going to spew. I blast the cold water from the faucet in my face. Anger takes over me. Shock and rage is more like it. How dare he bring this dicklick into our home, into our bed for fuck's sake? The last few months were nothing but a lie? A fucking game to him, that didn’t mean anything? I dry my face off gathering what little composure I can muster and walk out.

  Aaron is sitting on the side of the bed. The mystery dick is gone, he must have rushed out half naked.

  “Pack your stuff.”

  “Damien, can we please just talk?” Aaron makes his way towards me.

  “Yes, allow me to do the talking.

  Pack…your…stuff…and…get…the…hell…out…of…my…house!” I hold my hand out, stalling his approach on me.

  “But Damien…” He holds his arms out like he wants to hug me.

  “Goddammit, you don’t hear well do you? I’m going outside. I’m going to give you half an hour. Pack what you need. I want your house key left in the basket, along with your copy of my truck key. And I want you gone.”

  I turn my back on him and head towards the bedroom door. I spin to face him when I reach the doorway glaring daggers. “Lose this number, as well as my cell, and work numbers too. As a matter of fact, forget my name while you’re at it. We will not talk, nor discuss this, we won’t try to work this out, and we will not give this time to pass. It’s done and over with. Leave!” Practically swallowing my own tongue, I turn and leave the room. I’ll start hurling insults if I don’t. This is hard, very freaking hard, but I won’t be made a fool of, not in my own house. This is the reason I don’t do relationships, you can’t trust people, not anyone. It stabs swords through your heart, and personally I don’t like being hurt, nor stabbed for that matter. I don’t do pain or emotions very well.

  After pouring a glass of Bourbon, I swallow down a big gulp and escape the atmosphere inside the house to the fresh air outside. The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Dax is still here working, but I don’t say a word. I flop down in the lawn chair, running my fingers through my hair, yanking it through the knot at the end.

  I inhale deeply. I rub my hand over my forehead wiping the sweat off. My throat burns and my mind races a million miles a minute. I can’t keep up with the spiraling emotional rollercoaster right now. Maybe I’m in shock, but the rage is building real quick.

  I choke down the remainder of my Texan toxic and slam the glass down on the patio table next to me. Yep, that temper of mine just arrived. I plow through the phases of grief in about three minutes flat, denial and shock took a few minutes to get past, but anger jumps right in and takes over almost immediately. The bargaining stage won’t come into play here, I don’t bargain. I’ll skip straight into acceptance after I’m past this anger. I’m livid fucking mad.

  “Everything all right there, Damien?” Dax puts the pool net down, heading over in my direction.

  “No Dax, it’s so far from being okay right now, it’s not even funny.” I cup my hands over my face trying to wipes the horrid images away that are burned into my brain.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No. Wait yes, would you mind
stepping in the house and grabbing the bottle on top of the bar? I can’t go in there right now and I need another drink, like yesterday.”

  “Um…yeah, no problem.” A confused expression crosses Dax's face.

  “Grab yourself a glass if you want one.”

  He nods and walks into the house, returning a minute later with the whiskey in one hand, and a glass in another. He pours himself a glass and hands me the bottle.

  Without a word, Dax stares at me. I can only assume he’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now. It’s not like we’re strangers, he’s been my pool guy for a couple of years, from back in my old house and now here. We’ve talked plenty of times. He knows I was ‘living as a couple’ with Aaron, but I kind of doubt he’s wanting to hear all the nitty-gritty details of what I just witnessed.

  I tip the whiskey bottle straight up, and take a long pull off of it, then pass it back to him. I hear the French doors open, I know its Aaron. I’d told him we were done, there’s nothing to talk about.

  “Damien, can I have a word?” Aaron’s voice waivers.

  I never turn to look at him. “Aaron, you’re about to see my goddamned temper. Get the fuck out of my house.”

  The French door slams causing the glass panes to rattle when he jerks it behind him. I hear the front door slam a few seconds later. The motor of his Mustang roars as he revs it up, but I don’t hear him leave.

  The side gate swings open smacking into the fence and Aaron saunters through it. “Dax, move your fucking truck so I can get the hell out of this place.”

  I stand to say something, but Dax gives me a wink. Aaron storms back out the gate.

  “I got this Damien, nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be back in a few days to finish up.” Dax gets out of the chair, setting the glass on the table.

  “Thanks and sorry about this. It has nothing to do with you.” I down the rest of my whiskey, savoring the burn in my throat.

  “I know. Catch ya in a couple days. If you need anything call me.” Dax grabs his things and struts out the gate, locking it behind him.

  I have no worries, Aaron isn’t stupid enough to start something with the bulked out pool guy. He’ll be slaughtered like a lamb if he does.

  Chapter Two

  It’s dark when I wake. I get to my feet, kicking the pebbles across the ceramic paver tiles that surround the entire pool decked area. The electric motor grinds from the shaft of the pump area, vibrating through the little hole in the exterior lid, bubbles pop out the escape hatch.

  I go back into the house, remembering bits and pieces like a firefly that buzzes into the dome light ten times over. It’s kind of blurry and unreal. I can’t really find the lesson in this all, except that you never know everything about anyone. I’ve got a tornado of emotions and raw feelings twisting in my head.

  My first step is to back track into the bedroom and remove the memories that have been engrained there over the last two months. The lingering scent of musty sex and remnants of disgust almost floor me. I want to gag! There are too many leftovers on the emotional railroad tracks. Stop this mind fuck on yourself already Damien!

  I’m not usually one to dwell in sob stories or misery. I’m the type who brushes themselves off quickly and carries on with shit. It's how I’ve always been and how I’ll be now. This is why I avoid emotional attachments. Denial is a great manipulator to someone who doesn’t close it out on purpose. I do! I halt bullshit dramatics on the spot. When it scrapes all of your insides, you instinctively hit the kill switch on all emotions and kick the fail-safe to feelings on the spot. It ends here!

  I change all the sheets on the king sized bed. Yesterday this was our bed--our room—but today it’s nothing but the shitty feeling of betrayal and no respect for anything that was ever important.

  My phone rings, it’s him of course. Aaron's cell number shows up but I ignore it. He doesn’t leave a message. Ten minutes later, it’s his brother’s number. Did he think I would fall for that? What a fucking cock-douche. The third call comes from an unknown number. I let the machine pick it up. It’s Aaron, of course, on a rampage. I’m actually amazed that he’s finding a way to twist his fuck-up on me? Come on now, I wasn’t the one in our bed banging the hell out of someone else.

  The fourth, fifth, and still a sixth call come in. They’re all from a mixture of unknown and private numbers. I blast Drowning Pools Thirty-Seven Stitches on the surround sound downstairs and grab another glass of whiskey. I don’t want to hear the fucking phone or even glance to see the light on it revealing how many voicemails I have.

  I don’t know who I’m madder at, him or myself? I cared about Aaron, a lot. I’m not sure you’d call it head over heels in love, but it was enough for us to shack up together and give it a shot. Aaron could be a little on the bratty side, but it was kind of cute. He was almost needy at times, but to be honest, I liked the attention he gave me more than anything else. I liked being able to take care of him, but this--it’s unforgivable.

  Three more calls come in, holy fuck, does he ever give up? I downed the last sip of bourbon and slam the glass down, almost shattering the damn thing.

  Snatching the receiver off the stand, I practically break the damn thing in my clenched fist.

  “What the fuck Aaron? Goddamn you inconsiderate ass, do you not take a freaking hint? I have nothing to say to you. Nothing!”

  “Damien?” the voice says. Oops.

  “What? Who is this?”

  “Oh-uh Damien, it’s Dax from All Star Pool Cleaners.”

  “Oh Dax crap, I’m sorry man. I have your cell number programmed into my house contacts, but it didn’t show up.” Shit, the poor man will never want to work for me again.

  “Well, I have an explanation for that. I’m calling from the hotel because I left my cell sitting outside on the deck at your house. It’s on you’re a/c unit.”

  “Oh all right, I’m sorry. What can I do for you, did you need me to get it and bring it in for you?”

  “Would it be all right if I dropped by to get it?”

  “Sure, whatever you need, that’s fine Dax. I’ll be up. Let me get Granger inside so he doesn’t get all protective.”

  “Oh that dog is an old softie. I’ll swing by in about twenty.”

  I hang up the phone. Not what I need tonight, but I don’t want to be a total asshole about it either. It’s just bad timing is all. I pull Granger my Rottweiler inside and he barrels up the stairs. He heads straight for my bed, where he sleeps every night. He’s such a big baby. I follow him and change into shorts and a blue wife beater. Giving him a few pats on the head before going back downstairs, I turn off the light and walk down.

  This time in Houston is perfect for keeping the doors and windows to be open, so I do just that. The temps at night are in the low eighties. I walk outside and light the tiki torches that surround the patio area. I’m going to do a few laps in the pool later.

  I hear Dax’s Suzuki Hayabusa when he makes the corner onto my street. It’s one bad-ass bike, a black and red 2012 model. His keys jingle when he enters them into the lock on the side gate. My tunes crank back out after the quite track change.

  I finish pouring my drink and light a smoke. Holding the cig in between my lips, I glance up. Long and muscular ‘fuck me now’ legs strut into view. Inhaling a puff, I keep watching. Black Afterburner boots, mid-calf, accentuate his tight, button-up jeans. His cuff hangs on top of his boots, he reminds me of a longhaired, blond James Dean. Following the length of the jeans, my gaze skims upwards to his yellow wife beater. The ripples in his chest, fuck me sideways! Where did those come from? Normally he’s in some kind of oversized T-shirt. His shirt matches his dirty-blond hair that’s blowing freestyle in the wind, and waves across his right shoulder. The tats on his right arm intrigue me, the shape of tribal vintage, traipsing down, blending into his muscle structure almost stop my breath. Fuckingshit! I take the cigarette out of my mouth, and exhale a puff of smoke.

  “Hi Dax.” I lick my l
ips. I can’t help it.

  “Shit boss. You-ya kind of freak a guy out much? I’m sorry if I kept you up. You didn’t need to stay up just because of my absentmindedness and being forgetful.”

  “I didn’t. Just having a hard time getting to sleep, after everything that went on earlier, you know?” I give him a wicked grin.

  “You do-doing all right? Heard from him?” He takes a deep breath.

  “Nah, don’t want too. My phone's been blowing up, but he crossed a line. I just can’t backtrack over that kind of thing like nothing ever happened.”

  “Not trying to pry, but exactly what did happen with you and Aaron?” He sparks up a smoke.

  “Well, the fucktwat decided to bring someone else into our home, into our bed.”

  “Ouch! Damn, I’m sorry Damien.”

  “Don’t be, shit happens. My biggest problem is that sometimes I allow myself to trust, when no trust has been earned. Does that make any sense?”

  “Perfectly! Know it all too well. That’s the same problem I had with Marcy. You got a beer I can snag?”

  “Beer, an assortment of whiskeys, toxins and mixed, etc…pick your poison.”

  “Cool, thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” He pours a glass of whiskey. “So are you okay or do you want to talk about it or anything?”

  I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about me and my ex-boyfriend, lover or whatever he’s called now. I sidestep the convo, trying to remove the awkwardness.

  “Yeah, I’m okay or I will be.”

  “So what happened with you and Marcy?”

  “The same thing practically. I came in early from work and caught her half naked wrapped around some dudes waist. ” He took a long swig from his glass.

  “What is it with people? Damn, sorry.”

  “Wish I knew Damien. Needless to say, I kicked her to the curb, not technically but I left. I don’t do sharing. The pissfuck can have her.”