Want It Bad: A Kinky Romance

by Melinda DuChamp

  The only thing that worked in Carla’s favor all day was that Janet was on a flight to Dallas and wouldn’t be back in Seattle until the next evening, so she wouldn’t have to deal with her. A fact which probably meant Carla wasn’t just a coward, but a bad friend, too.

  Leaning back in the seat, she set her radio to a calming adult contemporary station and settled in for a slow torture until she could get past the construction on the highway ahead. The music was familiar, smooth older hits, nothing too hard, too loud, or too challenging.

  Just what she needed.

  When the music suddenly faded and her cell phone rang through the car speakers via the Bluetooth connection, Carla almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Call from Janet,” her phone’s slightly mechanical voice announced. “Would you like to answer, or send to voice mail?”

  Carla gripped the wheel tighter. If she didn’t answer, she really would be a bad friend. But if she did? Carla didn’t like keeping secrets in personal relationships, and she was especially dismal at hiding her feelings from Janet. The woman had a sixth sense.

  “Call from Janet,” the phone repeated. “Would you like to answer or send to voice mail?”

  Carla blew out a pent-up breath. “Answer.”

  The phone’s background tone changed, and Janet’s voice boomed through the car’s interior. “Just checking up on you, babe. Getting ready for your sex date? What are you wearing?”

  “I had to work late. Still on my way home. How’s Dallas? Meet any cute cowboys or oil men?”

  “Oh no, you are not going to change the subject on me. What are you going to wear? It had better not be one of your power bitch suits. How about a skirt? Do you still own a damn skirt? The last time I saw your bare legs was during the Bush administration. The first Bush, not the fuckable one.”

  “You’d fuck George W. Bush?”

  “I’d fuck the white off his dick. Dumb, powerful guys make me horny.”

  “Doesn’t that also apply to his father?”

  “Yeah, I’d fuck him, too. A little POTUS sandwich action. I’d be the all-beef patty in their Bush burger.”

  “Janet, I’m…”

  Her friend didn’t allow her to finish. “You’re going, Carla.”

  “I can’t.” To Carla’s shame, her eyes misted, turning the road in front of her blurry. She wiped the moisture away. This wasn’t the right time to lose her shit.

  “A little clit torture in the dungeon of pleasure is just what you need. It’ll do wonders for your stress levels. Right now you sound like you could chew through a Formica countertop.”

  “No.”

  “A granite countertop?”

  “No, it’s not work stress.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Carla spilled the sailboat story from the night before.

  “A full-scale freak out?” Janet said, disbelief reverberating through the car’s speakers.

  “It was mortifying.”

  The other end of the line was quiet for a moment. Disconcerting, since Janet was never quiet.

  “I know,” said Carla preemptively. “Maybe I can get by with never seeing him again.”

  “Remember the firefighter citizen’s academy I attended?” Janet asked. “The one where they give regular citizens a taste of what it’s like to be a firefighter?

  “You signed up to get a taste of the firefighters, if I recall.”

  Janet chuckled. “Some of those guys really knew how to use a hose.”

  Carla was not in the mood. “Listen Janet, I know you’re busy, and I’m—”

  “A lot of the training firefighters do is designed to condition them to face fear, so they don’t freak out when they have to run into that burning building.”

  “You think I should sign up for a citizen’s firefighter academy?”

  “I think you should keep your appointment with your neighbor’s sin dungeon.”

  Carla shook her head. “No way.”

  “Come on, Carla. Take a goddamn chance. You don’t want to become one of those women who crochets all day while listening to adult contemporary radio. I gotta go. You’d better have a lot to tell me when I get home.”

  The call ended, and the music again filled the car. Soft and soothing, the perfect soundtrack for crocheting. Carla switched the station three times then turned the radio off, driving the rest of the way home in silence.

  The first thing she did upon marching into the kitchen was to pull out a bottle of the Pinot she’d failed to share with Jake the night before, wishing she’d picked up more beer instead.

  The second thing she did was check the time. Almost eight.

  She had only a few minutes to call off her appointment. Or, since Janet hadn’t given Jake her real name, maybe she didn’t have to do anything at all. Maybe she’d just curl up on the sofa, sip her wine, and the entire problem would melt away.

  Carla poured a healthy amount of Pinot into a glass and took a sip. Fruit filled her senses, chased by the smack of tannins. She took another drink, more than a sip this time, waiting for the alcohol to calm her nerves, relax her, make the fear and the challenges and the… loneliness go away.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Carla set down the glass and raked her hair back from her face. She’d lived with her fear of boats since she was twelve, but she’d never sought refuge in alcohol or adult contemporary music or inaction. Never in her life. Was she becoming the woman Janet feared she’d be? That she feared she’d be?

  Jesus, am I becoming my mother?

  Mom just sort of gave up after the divorce. Stopped going out. Stopped dating. Stopped taking any risks. When Mom was younger, she toured the world. Now the furthest place she travelled was the corner store to get more cigarettes.

  I love my mother, but I don’t want to be her.

  So am I willing to do something about it?

  The whole idea was crazy. Insane. Clearly she’d lost her mind. But what was the alternative? She was far too young, far too vibrant, to give in to complacency. Since she was the client, she could tell Jake what she wanted, right? She would be in the driver’s seat. And the experience might just keep her from delving into some yarn-based hobby and wrapping herself up in a safe little cocoon of numbness.

  And if the whole thing was a disaster, it wouldn’t be any worse than dates she’d suffered before. She’d end the session and walk out. And no matter what happened, she’d have a story to tell.

  Carla downed the rest of her wine. Then before she changed her mind, she marched out the door and across the lawn. When she stepped onto Jake’s porch, her legs were trembling so badly she thought they might fold. She took a deep breath, as if readying for a dive into cold water, and pressed the doorbell.

  Chimes sounded inside the house, followed by footsteps.

  Carla smoothed her hands over her hair. She’d forgotten to change from her business suit, or at least take off the jacket. But that didn’t matter. The suit made her feel powerful. It reminded her she was in charge. And whether Janet deemed it sexy enough or not, Carla liked the feeling it gave her.

  The door opened, and Jake peered out. He looked like his usual sexy self, dark hair a little messy, a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw, his t-shirt snug across his chest in all the right places. “Carla, hey. You okay?”

  “I’m great.”

  “Good. After last night… I called your house earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I had to work late.”

  A hint of a smile curved his lips then fell away. “I wish I could ask you in, but I’m expecting a new client to arrive any minute.”

  Here goes nothing.

  Carla raised her chin, trying to summon the confidence she was so good at displaying in court. “She’s already here.”

  Jake glanced at the road.

  “No, not out there. Uh, I’m…” Her voice took on a little quake she prayed he didn’t notice. “I’m your eight o’clock appointment.”

  Jake’s eyebrows
shot upward.

  “My friend booked it for me.”

  His eyebrows pulled low. “You’re Amanda Laimie?”

  Carla made an I’m sorry face. “Is that the name she used?”

  “I gotta admit, I found it amusing. A man to lay me? Some women use false names the first time, until they get comfortable, but this one wasn’t too subtle.”

  “That’s my friend. The most unsubtle woman on the planet. She made the appointment on my behalf, because she thought I needed it.” Carla glanced back at her house, wondering if she should have stayed on her couch. “So are you inviting me in?”

  Jake didn’t move, his shoulders still barring the doorway. “This isn’t a good idea, Carla.”

  Carla’s cheeks felt instantly hot. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. “I don’t follow.”

  “I don’t take neighbors as clients. That kind of thing doesn’t work out.”

  “Why not?”

  “I got kicked out of my last neighborhood. I had a client a few doors down, and there was a scene. The homeowners association found out. Apparently having a sex worker next door decreases property values.”

  “What kind of scene?”

  “She thought she’d just drop by, and she saw me with another woman. Then she sort of lost it, yelling and screaming. Broke my window. Cops were called.”

  “That would never happen with me,” Carla said. “I can be discreet. And I’m not the jealous type.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s my policy.”

  “But you left your card.”

  “I did? When?”

  “It was on my floor. I…” Carla floundered. “I figured you left it on the table, and it fell off.”

  But that wasn’t the truth. Jake had dropped it accidentally. Janet and the waitress at the Italian restaurant had convinced Carla it had been on purpose, but looking at Jake’s face made it obvious that Carla was right all along.

  “You thought I was trying to drum up business.” Jake swiped a hand over his forehead, lingering as if he was struggling with a headache. “I didn’t mean to, Carla. I didn’t even know I left a card. I’m sorry if it seemed like anything else.”

  “And when you came over to my pier? And when you stopped by my house for a beer?”

  “I was trying to be neighborly.”

  Were you being neighborly when you said my name while jerking off?

  Carla’s whole body tensed up. How could she have gotten things this wrong? She’d been so focused on her decision to go ahead with the appointment, it had never occurred to her he might not be willing. So absorbed by her lust for him, she’d never considered he might not want her back. She was shocked and humiliated and even a little angry. “Is it something about me?”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “What is it? My breasts aren’t big enough?”

  “Carla, you’re very attractive, but…”

  “But too old? Is that it? Please explain, because I’ve never had a man turn me down for sex before. Not that I’m bragging, but guys are pretty easy. They’re always up for it. A guy turning down sex is like a dog turning down a bone. Except now one is turning me down. Turning me down even though he’s going to be paid for it. Can you say add insult to injury?”

  “I’m sorry, Carla. I like being your neighbor. I thought we might even be able to be friends, but… not this. This never works out. Not between neighbors.”

  “Never?”

  “I’ve… tried it before. It was a disaster.”

  When challenged, challenge back. One of the first things Carla learned in law school. “So you’re blaming me for something someone else did? How is that fair?”

  “What?” He shook his head. “I’m not blaming you for anything. I have rules…”

  “And the reason for your rules was some other neighbor, not me. That doesn’t make sense. Why should I be responsible for someone else hurting you?”

  “I didn’t say I was hurt.”

  “You don’t have to say it. It’s pretty obvious.”

  Jake sighed, deep and dramatic. “You’re not going to get off my porch, are you?”

  Carla folded her arms. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re probably an excellent lawyer.”

  “Would you like me to lecture you about verbal contract law?”

  Jake leaned in the doorway, his biceps straining his shirt as he crossed his arms. “You’re saying we had a verbal contract? For me to make love to you?”

  The idea was ridiculous, but Carla’s mouth had taken on a will of its own, and stopping it would only mean she’d have to walk back across that lawn and spend the night alone and rejected and wrapped in that damn cocoon, probably drunk-ordering yarn online. “I could argue we had a verbal contract. Yes.”

  “First of all, the contract was with your friend, not you. Second, you do know that sex for money is against the law, right counsellor?”

  “Let me explain something to you,” Carla said. “It took a lot of guts for me to come over here. I don’t do this type of thing. Ever. But do you know why I came?” Carla jerked her thumb at herself. “Because I deserve it. I deserve to have a fun night, no strings attached. I work hard. I make a lot of money. And I never do anything for myself. Do you know when the last time I had sex was?”

  “No, I don’t. When was the last time you had sex?”

  Shit. My mouth got ahead of my brain.

  “That’s not any of your business.”

  “You brought it up.”

  Carla deflected, going back on the attack. “What’s your problem with neighbors exactly?”

  “What’s your problem with the word no?”

  “What’s wrong with my money?”

  “Your money is fine. I just choose not to take it.”

  “Do you find me attractive?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “This isn’t a courtroom, Carla. I’m allowed to refuse clients. There’s no law against that.”

  “Well, there should be!”

  Carla’s throat felt constricted. Pressure surged behind her eyes, as if she was about to scream, about to cry, about to…

  A low chuckle bounced off the house’s siding. It wasn’t until Jake added his voice to the mix that Carla realized the laugh had come from her and that she couldn’t stop.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and let the laugh go, wiping away her frustration, her fear, and the sting of rejection. Tears sprang to her eyes and wet her cheeks. Pain cramped her side. “This is so stupid,” she managed between gasps. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to sue you for rejecting me.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I just wish…”

  “Wish what?”

  “I don’t know.” She wiped her cheeks, the laughter slowing to a stop. “I guess I wish I knew why.”

  “I told you, it complicates things.”

  “Sex always complicates things. Always. And I’m not saying it wouldn’t be weird to be your client, to wave to you tomorrow in the driveway or out on the pier. But it’s weirder to wonder what’s wrong with me. Why you are willing to put up with complications when it comes to Mrs. Gladstone or Gloria Hotchland and not me?”

  “I like you, Carla.”

  “I’ve thought that. But other times…”

  “Other times?”

  “You’re… I don’t know… distant. Like you’re holding me at arm’s length. Shutting yourself off. Like I’m catching flak for more than you’re letting on.” His features fell, and Carla wondered if she’d gotten too personal. “Look, we barely know each other, so that may not be a fair assessment.”

  “It’s not entirely inaccurate.”

  “So man up and do me.”

  Jake’s serious expression broke into a small smile. “Really? You’re going to try to shame me into a session? How about you double dog dare me?”

  She put her hands on her hips.
What was there to lose? “Fine. I double dog dare you.”

  “When the playground taunts don’t work, are you going to try crocodile tears next?”

  “Would it help?”

  “What if it did? Is that what you’re angling for, Carla? A pity fuck?”

  Carla grinned and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “I’ll take it. Do you know how many guys I’ve slept with out of pity?”

  “No. How many?”

  Dammit. Mouth and brain again.

  “That’s none of your business. But my money is good, I’m horny, and you’re the expert at showing a girl a good time. We’re two consenting adults making a business transaction. Let’s do this.”

  Jake shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “And you’re on the clock. You inviting me in, or are we getting this party started on your front porch?”

  Jake didn’t move. He seemed to study her, and she studied him back. Carla saw defiance. Like her, Jake was used to getting his way.

  Well, at least I didn’t go down without a fight. Pinot and crochet, here I come. Maybe I’ll just retire my vagina. Mount it on a wall like a deer head. It was once alive and vibrant, and now it’s dead and hanging on a plaque above the book case.

  “Okay, then. See you around, Jake. You’re really attractive, and I’m really disappointed, but I’ll get over it.” She turned away, focusing on the light she’d left on in the foyer of her house.

  “Carla, wait. You’re right.”

  Carla stopped, not walking down the steps, but not turning back to him either.

  “I have been keeping you at arm’s length. I’m sorry. And that’s not going to change. I like you. I like you a lot. But I’m not interested in being anything but neighbors.”

  “Neither am I,” she said, trying to keep her voice light despite the heaviness in her chest. “I’ll wave at you when the McGreggors have their next neighborhood barbeque. Avoid the pulled pork. It’s always too salty. Bye.”

  She headed back home, feeling rejected but not humiliated. True failure was not trying at all, and she’d tried her best. C’est la vie.

  “Look,” Jake called after her, “if we both feel this way… then there’s no reason I shouldn’t accept you as a client.”