The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  "Come on, we're waiting for you." Russell kicked a chair out for her and rubbed his hands together.

  Her heels clicked on the tile as she made her way to the dinette and sat down. Russell never looked up from his computer while Jason splayed himself over a chair with his arm slung over his eyes.

  "All right. Let's begin." Russell put his hand out to Jason. "Give it."

  Without moving from his position, he tossed his checkbook at Russell. A couple of pieces of paper fell out.

  Russell adjusted his glasses and began his ritual.

  He picked up one paper, tilted his head and entered something on the computer.

  Several times he repeated his action, nodding or shaking his head as he did his calculations. "How about you get us something to drink?"

  "Something alcoholic," Jason mumbled.

  "I'll have juice." Russell thumbed through some more bits of paper.

  She pressed her lips together and got up.

  Neither man gave her a second glance as she walked around the kitchen collecting glasses, vodka for Jason, some orange juice for Russell and a bottle of water for herself.

  She returned, plopped all her items down in the center of the table, and sat back down, this time crossing her legs.

  "Will you pour me some?" Finally, Jason opened his eyes but only to spy the booze.

  Before staring at him, she peeked down to ensure her cleavage remained in full view. Satisfied, she studied her blond again. Something was off. Boobs were his magnets, and normally he would be the first to notice her tight, low cut pink sweater.

  She leaned over the table took his glass and placed it by her chest, taking her time pouring the liquid.

  Jason may not be looking, but she got the desired result from Russell. He actually took the time to push his glasses up to get a better look. She slid the glass over to Jason and focused on Russell. "Would you like some juice?" She gave him a quick wink. An amorous Russell distracted from his favorite task of bill paying would definitely get Jason out of his funk.

  "Where's your stack?"

  She arched her back. "Right where you want it." Only when Russell put his hand out did she realize he didn't say rack.

  "Bills please, mademoiselle."

  "Talking French will get you many favors." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Jason finally moved. "Say something else." She put her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand.

  "Bills, s'il vous plait." He put his hand out once more, this time wiggling his fingers.

  She narrowed her eyes and gave him her pouch holding her accounting. Long ago she learned that if she wanted Russell to help with bills and budgeting she needed to keep everything in one spot. In truth, Russell was the one who gave her the little zippered pouch and told her she should never have more monthly paperwork than what would fit inside. This month the pouch seemed a bit overstuffed.

  Jason lifted his glass, held it up to the light and then downed it as if he were drinking water. In fact, his lack of facial expression caused her to make sure she didn't give him her bottle of water.

  He reached over, poured quite a bit more into the glass, and gulped it down.

  She froze. Not only had Jason not gawked at her girls, or mentioned them but last night he came to bed late. When he made love to her it wasn't as playful as usual, it was serious. He kept kissing her and never tried to direct her or Russell. At the time she thought it was romantic. Now she wondered if he was bored and trying to figure out a way to tell the two of them, he seemed distracted and distant since the night of their little competition fit. Time and again she prepared herself for this moment, and now with her face heating, she realized she wasn't prepared at all.

  "Do we have anything we need to tell Russell before Russell begins?" Russell unzipped the pouch.

  What would happen now? A tangy burn began to work its way up her throat, radiating throughout her body.

  Again, Jason poured himself a drink.

  She put her hand over her exposed chest trying to subdue her own heartbeat and heartburn. The man was going to drink himself into oblivion in order to tell them, his two best friends.

  "Looks like someone went shopping." Russell made a tsking noise.

  Jason took another drink.

  "What do we have here?" Russell continued, oblivious as to what was about to happen.

  In an attempt to get into Jason's eye line, she forced herself to move. If they didn't make this easy for him nothing would be salvageable. She balled her hand in a fist, digging her nails into the heel of her palm.

  She shut her eyes. They would never be the same. The day they kissed her she lost her only family.

  "What is this for?"

  The trembling took over her body. She needed to enjoy the fantasy. While all fantasies ended, she wasn't ready for this one to meet its curtain call. Only this morning she took a break from calls and went to buy some trashy lingerie. She also bought some strawberry flavored massage oil and a naughty movie with two men and one woman.

  "What is this?"

  Jason reached for the bottle once more.

  She planned on revealing the lingerie tonight and the oil and movie on the weekend.

  No matter what happened, she couldn't let Jason drown himself in vodka, not when she needed some.

  "Hello! I need to know what this is!"

  Out of the corner of her eye she watched Russell wave a white slip of paper in the air.

  Her receipt! The lingerie. The oil. The movie. She winced. What was sexy this afternoon would be pathetic now. "Wait!" She jumped up out of the chair, knocking it over and lunged across the table for the receipt. In the process she slammed Russell's laptop shut and sent his prized papers flying across the breakfast nook.

  "Lauren!" Russell shot up and caught her. "What's wrong?"

  She tripped into Russell's arms and turned to Jason.

  Jason stood as well, but stood there with one hand over his eyes and one hand out as if he were trying to keep his balance.

  "Lauren." Russell took her chin and aimed her face at him.

  She frowned. Russell glared down at her, but he was still handsome. Her executive who loved to be organized. Would Russell want her after Jason dumped them? Did she even want to do this without Jason? "No."

  "No?" He put the back of his hand on her cheek. "Are you sick?"

  She shook her head.

  "Then what's the problem?"

  She tried to look at Jason but Russell held her in place. "I didn't want you to see what I bought." No doubt he already processed the receipt.

  "Did you blow your shopping budget on Rodeo again?" He narrowed his eyes. "Let's see the damage."

  Wait. The receipt was clearly not from Beverly Hills but Hollywood. On top of that Mr. Assessment, aka Russell, would have read every line item in a nanosecond. "What didn't you know what to do with?"

  "How much did you spend?" Russell stared her down.

  She bit her lip.

  "What's wrong?" He put his arm around her. "Do we have to do that thing where I have to return something for you again?"

  She didn't answer but her mind quickly rewound all the times Russell had gone into various stores and boutiques to return items when she regretted the purchase. She supposed it was because it was never what she truly wanted. The few weeks she had been more concerned with getting home then shopping. Again, she glanced over at Jason, now he was squeezing the bridge of his nose.

  "Lauren, what is it! Tell me!"

  "I bought something naughty and I have to return it because Jason hasn't even looked at my boobs once!" The words spewed out just like her cleavage.

  "Liar!" Jason bolted his head up, causing him to grab the edge of the table for support. He cleared his throat and blinked several times. "I always look at her boobs. In fact, I have been enjoying the view since she sat down." He directed his statement more to Russell than to her.

  Relief made her weak, but now she wasn't sure if she was happy he was gawking at her or annoyed,
or annoyed he was gawking and didn't say anything. She ground her teeth together.

  "See, he was looking at your boobs, as was I." To prove his point, Russell hooked his finger in the neck of her sweater and peeked inside. "Everything looks amazing from my angle." He turned to Jason. "Do you want to get an up close look?"

  All she knew was Jason better damn well want to take a look, but he better not gawk, or leer. Definitely no leering.

  "Hell, yeah." Jason walked around the table, propping himself up on the chairs until he joined them. "Let me inspect the sites." With red-rimmed eyes, he stared right at her.

  Fine, she felt better when Jason extracted her from Russell and didn't only look inside, but ran his hands up the bottom of her sweater, cupping both her breasts, and burying his face in her cleavage.

  "Oh yeah." He kissed the top of each of her mounds and grazed his thumbs across her bra over her nipples. "I want to know what naughty thing you bought."

  Jason's kisses caused shivers throughout her entire being and she put one hand on the back of Jason's head, and grabbed Russell's arm.

  "So, it's not good enough that I look?" Russell laughed and then dipped his head down giving her kiss. "You have to have an artist eye you?"

  "Yes, I require many mediums to inspect me." Though the nagging nausea of worry over Jason wanting out waned, a new concern crept into her being. Something was still not right with her creative cohort.

  "I'm hardly an artist." Jason trailed his lips up her chest, neck and then kissed her lips.

  "I beg to differ." Russell stepped back and returned to his papers, shuffling through them. "What I was asking before is what do I do with this check stub? Do you have an invoice or anything to go with it?" He returned and showed Jason.

  She straightened up and read the document. "Twelve hundred dollars."

  Russell nodded. "Twelve hundred dollars."

  "Jason!" She started jumping and flung her arms around his neck. "What piece did you sell?" This was a monumental moment. He sold a piece of art and broke his streak.

  "I say this calls for a celebration." Russell clapped.

  "Why didn't you say anything?" She took Jason's face between her palms and kissed him.

  He didn't kiss her back.

  No, he didn't kiss her back, but not because he didn't want to kiss her. Only minutes before he had his face in her chest. "Jason?"

  He took the check stub and tossed it on the table. "What naughty stuff did you buy?" He grabbed her hips. "I think the vodka is making me especially horny. Russell needs to catch up so we can see what you bought."

  "Jason." She put her hands over his. "What did you sell?"

  Russell crossed his arms.

  He looked beyond her. "Nothing worth anything."

  "It was worth twelve hundred dollars." Russell picked the check stub off the floor.

  "Bette got me some work with a publisher. Two book covers. I did the first. I still have to do the second. Some beach cabana or something." He scratched his hand through his hair.

  Art for hire. The precise work Jason didn't want. Without any fanfare she backed away and returned to the table. Now she understood the competition, the distance, the alcohol, right now she could use some as well.

  "Let me clean up this mess." Russell picked up the chair she knocked over, bent down and began gathering the papers off the floor.

  "Hey." Jason put his hand on her back. "It's no big deal. We all sell things. You sell your stuff, Russ sells his brain."

  Russell made a noise and came up with a ton of papers every which way.

  "Let's do the bills." She sat down. Russell may sell his brain, but he loved it. She may sell her stuff, but it was a means to an end. Jason selling his art this way was a step back. He was giving up. She chewed the inside of her mouth. Over the last week and a half her job didn't even have a goal. She gave it up when she crawled through the boxes for an unsure end. Her stuff only paid the bills, just like Jason's art.

  "This all got mixed up. I say we go find out what Lauren bought." Russell pulled the plug on the laptop.

  This went beyond their bizarre relationship, breakups and other nonsense she came to this table worried about. She couldn't try to cookie cutter their situation into anything traditional. Their friendship and future was interwoven with every decision they made and the thought of being without them made her physically ill.

  Yes. Everything was all mixed up.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jason leaned back in his chair, stared at the paper on his table and shifted his glance to the email from his agent describing what the author wanted for their book.

  He rubbed his chin and lifted the paper, turning it ninety degrees and another ninety degrees and even assessed it upside down. Somehow the cabana on the beach this man described in great detail in his memoir was only a square with rudimentary hooked waves behind it. All he needed to do was add in a circle for a sun, a smiley face and some birds shaped like flattened 'm's and he would have a masterpiece fit for a preschooler.

  "Focus." He had to learn how to do this. The look on Lauren and Russell's face at his check told him everything. Hey, he did fine with the mural and the first book cover. He put the paper back down. The page didn't look any better, and trying to redirect his energy he swiped up his pencil, turning the square into a bed, but not any bed. This bed was decadent, full of pillows and blankets, and a canopy with flowing fabric panes. His hand took over as if it were directly connected to the creative lobe of his brain.

  In less than fifteen minutes he had transformed the picture to a seaside scene. The waves now had depth, flotsam and jetsam and no sun. Instead, moonlight directing a soft beam right to the canopy spotlighting the bed.

  Once again he sat back. This time he swallowed to catch his breath. A good art run was not unlike an orgasm. There was the anticipation, the build up and the release. When the art took over, nothing else mattered, and the picture or the sculpture did what it wanted not what it was hired to do.

  This was the image he envisioned, the three of them on a secluded beach, the breeze blowing and tons of blankets because Lauren would be freezing even between them. He twisted his chair back and forth. Yes, it was perfect.

  Perfect for him.

  The printed email from his agent loomed in the corner of eye. The one with the specs for the picture.

  Nowhere in the instructions did it say bed on the beach, or three people.

  Apparently this author never experienced three people in bed because if he did then that would be precisely what the man would want. He squeezed his eyes shut, not needing to read the email to know what was expected of him. "Green striped cabana on a white sand beach, shells, water, sun." Maybe he should get his crayons out.

  Still heady and high from creating something with more depth than the shallow ocean they wanted, he turned the paper over, crumpled up the email, grabbed his tools and left the studio.

  He needed a change in venue, a perfect cure for art gone wrong. Some distraction, and a little conversation and by the time the buzzer rang on Lauren's luscious lasagna he would have worked through his green stripes and blue water. The picture would be so much better with no stripes and purple water.

  He stood in the hallway.

  Sunday afternoon at the house had its own vibe. No matter what happened during the week, or on Friday or Saturday night, Sunday afternoon was different. After breakfast the chores of the week began. Even now the hum of the clothes dryer was only overshadowed by the rhythmic beat of the washing machine. In the background the television whispered with one Lauren's reality shows, and the whole house was permeated with the scent of garlic, onions and tomato from the homemade sauce Lauren started earlier.

  On Sunday afternoon the whole house was like one gigantic pillow, soft, welcoming and warm.

  He went to the family room and peeked inside.

  Where the house might be a pillow, inside this room was like being under a blanket, and he wanted to crawl inside.

  R
ussell looked up from the corner table where he had an assortment of parts and pieces out with one of his vintage toys. He opened his mouth.

  No. He didn't want anything to break the spell. Jason shook his head and put his finger over his mouth as he tiptoed to the corner chair and sat down.

  Russell shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to tinkering.

  Jason put his feet up, put two pencils in his mouth and turned to Lauren.

  She lay on the couch, splayed out on her stomach sound asleep. One of her cheeks disappeared in the pillow she grabbed from the bed, and her mouth was a little open. Her hand hung down after falling off the edge, and her ass was nice and rounded, a tight mound in black leggings he wanted to grab on to.

  The shapes were amazing, all curves, no straight lines, everything flowing.

  Screw green stripes.

  He glanced over at Russell. The man personified concentration, hunched over his contraption with a metal piece between two of his fingers and a thin screwdriver in his hand. He had the same expression on his face as when he would study Lauren, wide eyes hardly blinking, maybe a slight smile.

  Jason started his sketch and like earlier the world did him the favor of disappearing. No television, no meat sauce, no emails dictating his art. Time vanished as well, and he didn't know how long he sketched getting all the details the way his mind wanted them. At last he erased one errant pencil mark and that indefinable yet definable moment let him know his drawing was finished.

  Now he had his second sketch today, this one was Lauren on that canopy bed on the beach with Russell looking over her. He even added himself in the background.

  He let his head hit the back of the chair and high fived the air.

  "Was it good for you?" Russell chuckled.

  If Russell only knew. He nodded. "Yeah." The only problem he was having now was every piece of art centered on the three of them. Yes, their trouple did the job of letting his artwork out, but not in the way he imagined. He only thought he was blocked, he never anticipated getting a muse as part of the deal.

  "Good." Russell returned to his own art. "She's cute when she sleeps."