Hustler

by Meghan Quinn

  I shake my head at the thought. She’s a fucking wildcat, that’s for sure.

  The workout yard is empty as I trot up to it. It’s the perfect place for bodyweight fitness, which is just what I need to maintain my physique as well as my sanity. I’m not the kind of man who spends hours in the gym pumping iron, striving for muscles bigger than my head. I prefer the lean, defined look. Makes it easier when trying on a suit. I’ve heard women compare me to some dude named Nick Bateman. Whoever the fuck that is. There was one girl in particular, who I brought home from the park that kept running her hands up and down my six pack, telling me how much I looked like him. It creeped me way the fuck out, but I made a mental note to look him up on the internet that night and I had to admit, the lucky bastard did look like me.

  The rubber mulch of the workout yard bounces under my feet, a welcome sensation after the hard paved streets. Stretching my arms over my head, I shift side to side, preparing for my pull-up routine. I start with simple pull-ups and then do full on muscle ups. It’s fucking grueling, and kind of makes me want to die, but it’s given me the body I have today, and when I’m doing them, it’s impossible to think about anything else, so I suck it up.

  Off to the side, there’s a basketball game going on, a bunch of older men living out their younger years, playing shirts and skins, some of them definitely should be playing on the shirts side. There are also some kids flying kites, moms walking strollers, and then there are the picnic tables.

  I grip the pull up bar, feeling the heat of the sun on it, and start my routine while scoping out the picnic tables. It’s where the single ladies hang out. Today they’re empty, surprisingly enough, but to the side there are three women sitting on a blanket having a morning picnic. From my up and down vantage point, it looks like they have a bundle of grapes, some pastries, and juice. Keeping my eye on them makes it easier to work through my reps.

  With each pull up, I try to figure out why the women look so familiar. It isn’t until I’m on the twentieth muscle up that I realize it’s Penelope, Davies, and a blonde who I’m going to assume is Penelope’s roommate, Page. I’ve only seen a picture of her on my phone, but she matches up with my memory.

  They must all have the morning off. How fucking adorable that they wanted to have a picnic in the park together. I say that sarcastically. Women are so weird. Let’s eat on the ground and gab while ants crawl all over us, it’ll be fun.

  Could you imagine if Graham, Scott and I decided to go on a picnic together, sit on a blanket in the grass and share a basket of grapes with each other? No fucking way. I have no interest in the matter.

  After I tap out on reps and I can feel an intense burn in my arms, I drop off the bar and stick my feet in the sit up bench, bracing myself on the decline. With my hands barely grazing my temples, I sit up straight and fall back down. With each up, I glance in Penelope’s direction, taking in her appearance. Her hair is down with a chunk pinned up on the top of her head. The half up, half down shit looks good on her. She’s wearing a pair of white shorts and a navy blue tank top. Her toned arms are on display and so is that fantastic ass of hers.

  She looks good in street clothes, that’s for damn sure. The only thing that’s truly different is that her tits aren’t spilling out of her shirt like they do in her uniform. Until now, I hadn’t given the fact she must wear a pushup bra any thought. I have to admit, I prefer her tits to be in a normal place. At least that way she isn’t attracting even more men’s attention.

  Hell, even if her tits were dancing the tango with her belly button men would still be flocking toward her. It isn’t just her looks; it’s her entire personality. Sweet and beautiful, but a fucking wench at times. Why is that attractive, you ask? Because she’s a challenge. And if a man tells you he doesn’t like a challenge he’s a goddamned liar. Or a lazy bastard, in which case, you need to run in the other direction.

  Watching them interact is interesting. They’re so much more animated than men. Watching the guys and me interact is probably boring as fuck. We say a few words, grunt, take sips of our drinks, and then continue with idiotic conversations, usually trying to one-up each other. Women are so much more complex. They use their hands when talking, their expressions are fascinating; even the ones just listening, they nod their heads, shifting their body language to look interested rather than passive.

  Woman are, by far, more interesting to observe than men, and not just because you hope for a nip slip, but because they’re more fun to read, they have so many more tells than men.

  I continue to do sit ups when I catch Penelope waving her hands in the air, mimicking something, making Page and Davies laugh. I’m curious to find out what she might be saying and then it hits me. Might as well crash their little picnic. I wouldn’t mind sitting on a damn blanket in the grass if it meant getting to pull on Penelope’s strings a little bit more. Plus, with my shirt still tucked into the back of my shorts, she’s going to get an eyeful of something that has caused lesser women to drop to their knees. I can’t wait to see her reaction.

  Excited about my idea, I finish up my sit ups, cutting them a little short but promising myself to do some tonight, along with my pushups, and head on over to their little gathering.

  As I approach, I make sure to do it so I’m behind Penelope. Davies is the first one to see me and I can’t help but relish in the smile that crosses over her face. Page is next, her eyes scan my body quickly, a light blush popping up on my cheeks. I hope whatever happened between her and Graham is in the past, because with just one look from her, I can tell she’s entirely out of Graham’s league. She is way too good for him.

  Penelope is the last one to clue in. “What are you looking at?” she asks, turning around to see me towering over her.

  With a shocked drop of her jaw, she gives me a very slow once over, taking in every contour and divot in my chest and stomach. I’m not being egotistical, honestly. It’s just a fact. I have a fucking great body that I work hard to maintain. It’s not ego when it’s true. Besides, it’s not like I run around with my shirt lifted up, yelling, “Look at me!”. Unless it’s brought up by someone else, I never outwardly brag about my body. I’m an asshole, not a narcissist. There’s a difference, believe me.

  “Hello Miss Prescott. What brings you here this fine morning?”

  Her eyes are glued to my chest, not a single word comes out of her mouth.

  “Um, we’re having a picnic,” Page answers for her, poking Penelope in the back with a stick.

  “Oh yeah, food,” Penelope answers, shaking her head quickly and turning back around.

  Not waiting for an invitation, I take a seat next to her and say, “Well, don’t mind if I do. I’m famished.” Grabbing a few grapes, I pop them in my mouth and then hold my hand out to Page. “Gavin Saint.”

  “Page,” she answers, awe in her voice. “Nell has told me so much about you.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, I turn to Penelope whose face is bright red. “Is that so?”

  “No!” she answers quickly, shooting daggers at her friend. “I have not said anything about you, at all.”

  “Not even about the storage closet?” I ask, not ashamed at all.

  Davies throws her head back and laughs while Penelope coughs into her drink. I pat her back in a calming gesture, occasionally rubbing my hand over the thin material of her top, wishing it were her bare skin.

  “From your reaction, it seems like our little friend here did tell you. What did she say? Give me all the dirt.” I rub my hands together, loving the way Penelope is seething next to me.

  Before any of the girls could cut in, Penelope says, “Just that you told me you had to use your fingers because you have a micro-penis and felt bad that you wouldn’t be able to please me any other way. We all agreed, you can’t have it all Gavin Saint,” she finishes with a sympathetic wince.

  Should have seen that one coming. Fucking woman keeps me on my toes.

  I lean over to Penelope, placing my hand on her lower
back, and speak directly into her ear, keeping our conversation private. “You and I both know that’s a lie, but I’ll let it slide because I look forward to the moment when I fuck that thought right out of your head with my long… thick… cock.” I take my time speaking into her ear, eliciting goose bumps across the surface of her skin. With a quick glance, I also take in how her nipples have hardened.

  Bluff all you want baby, I can read you like a fucking book.

  “Shit it’s hot over here, isn’t it?” Davies asks, waving the top of a pastry box in front of her face. “How often do you work out Gavin?”

  Davies and I haven’t spoken much, just some passing nods and thank you’s when I tip her, but from what I’ve read in her body language, she’s hardened. Something’s happened to her in the past and she’s just as good at hanging out with the guys as she is with the girls. She’s no bullshit, no drama, and no relationships. A blistered kind of woman who doesn’t plan on ever settling down, she says it all with her scorned eyes.

  “Every day, unless I have a woman between my legs.”

  “Ugh, pig,” Penelope scoffs under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” I ask her.

  She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. “Yeah, I called you a pig.”

  “Because I like sex?”

  “No, because you talk about it in front of three women. It’s rude to be crass in front of the female race.”

  I shrug. “Just exercising equal rights for all.” I grab some more grapes and say, “Please tell me there’s some alcohol in those drinks.”

  “Mimosas!” Page says with a lift of her glass and a rise to her voice.

  “Shhh,” Penelope shushes her. “Page, we talked about this, if you can’t hold your breakfast liquor by staying quiet, then we can’t drink in the park.”

  “Oops,” she hiccups, clearly a lightweight.

  “So what were you pretty ladies talking about before I walked over, looked like Penelope was telling a good story.”

  “Nothing,” she cuts me off. “We were talking about nothing.”

  I tsk her. “You shouldn’t lie to me, Miss Prescott. You know I can read every move you make, so why even try?”

  Her hands fly up in the air, exasperation in her voice when she speaks. “For the love of God, it’s Nell, or, if you must, Penelope. I’m sick of this Miss Prescott shit. How hard is it to remember someone’s damn name?”

  I lean in close to her, Page and Davies tuned into the melodrama playing out in front of them, glasses of mimosa halfway up to their lips. “I assure you, Miss Prescott, I am well aware of your first name, as well as your nickname, but I enjoy the way your eyes light with flames when I address you properly, with sophistication and class, a show of respect you most certainly deserve.”

  Her eyes study mine, wavering back and forth, she’s speechless and turned on. I know this because of the way she keeps licking her lips and looking at mine, as if they are preparing to attack her.

  Fuck, I might just suck her bottom lip into my mouth, just for the hell of it to make a point.

  “Holy shit,” Page and Davies whisper together, taking in the electricity bouncing off of Penelope and me.

  I continue the staring contest with Penelope until she makes the first move, which is to place her hand to my sweaty, hard chest, and push me away.

  “Get out of here…” she pauses when her hand connects with my muscles. “Oh… that’s hard.” She gulps, making Davies laugh even harder.

  I wiggle my eyebrows at Penelope. “Like what you feel?”

  “No!” she takes her hand away, shakes it and then rubs it on the blanket. “You clearly take steroids, which would explain the micro-penis.”

  Having no shame, Davies leans over the pile of food and presses her hand against my chest. “Hell, who cares about the micro-penis, the man has a tongue and fingers, that’s all we really need as women.” She feels up my chest, wandering over my nipples and down my stomach before Penelope whacks her back.

  “Jesus, Davies, have some self-respect.”

  “The bastard is stacked, I can’t help myself.” Davies looks at me. “Your suits don’t do you justice now that I see what’s underneath. You should start playing shirtless.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll keep that I mind. So, you were just about to tell me what you were talking about before I got here.”

  “Were we?” Penelope looks at the imaginary watch that is not on her wrist. “Aw, what a shame, we have to get going.” She goes to get up when I put my hand on her thigh, urging her to stay in place.

  “Miss Prescott, I’m sure you don’t have to be to work until late afternoon. I know this because that’s when I’m scheduled to watch the screen. So, why don’t you relax, have another drink, and welcome your guest to your picnic, am I right ladies?”

  “Here, here!” Page says with another lift of her drink.

  “Traitorous bitch,” Penelope hisses at her friend. Page just shrugs her shoulder and drinks some more. I like this girl. I can tell she’s Team Gavin, something to take note of.

  “Well…” I press.

  Without a worry or care in the world, Davies answers for everyone. “We were just talking about Nell’s upcoming date with Nick.”

  My jovial mood immediately turns into a murderous one. I snap my head to Penelope and ask, “Nick the bartender?”

  “Oh, do you know of him?” she asks with faux innocence.

  “You know damn well I do.” I grit out. “I thought I killed the idea of you going out with that tool bag.”

  “Was that in the closet?” Page asks, sloshing her drink around. “Because she’s already gone out with him once since then.”

  “What?” I snap, this time pure distaste in my voice. “When was this?”

  I just ran five miles and over-exerted myself on the pull-up bar and sit up bench and I feel like my breath is more labored now than it was during my workout. Penelope already went out with Nick? What the fuck? If I knew she was seriously considering going out with him I would have stepped up my game. That, or I would have thrown in the towel and fucked the first woman who made a pass at me.

  Okay, so that’s a lie, I already tried that and realized within a minute that I was so hung up on fucking Penelope that I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had her for one night. Damn womanly power. I blame all fucking vaginas. They have way too much control over men.

  “It was nothing,” Penelope answers, a shyness to her voice. “It was just coffee.”

  “Yeah but they’re going to the Red Room tonight for dinner. Aren’t you going to wear that black dress we talked about?” Davies asks Penelope, something gleaming in her eyes, something underhanded. That’s it, she just cut her goddamned tip by at least half.

  “Oh, the one with the deep neckline and short skirt that falls mid-thigh?” Page claps her hands.

  “Sounds slutty,” I add my two cents, unwisely.

  Page confirms. “It is. She got it one night when we were on Freemont.”

  Oh, that’s good to know. She got the dress while strolling down Freemont Street, very reassuring. It isn’t like that’s where all the hookers resided. Fucking perfect!

  “I haven’t decided.” A devious grin spreads across Penelope’s face as she turns to me. “You know, it would be great to get a man’s opinion. What do you think Gavin? Should I wear the black dress that has a neckline that falls down to here?” She runs her fingers down her cleavage, dragging the neckline of her shirt, giving me an eye-full. “Or, should I wear a dress that has no back, but a higher neckline.” She turns her body, lifting her shirt to show me a portion of her bare back. Her shorts ride just low enough that I can see the little dimples that reside above her ass.

  Fuck me.

  Keeping an impassive look on my face, I say, “The low neckline. Everyone’s already seen your tits, but that back and those ass dimples, those can be reserved for me.”

  “Oh, you’re taking her out?” Davies asks, pushing this conversa
tion the whole time. I eye her and all the evil little shit does is smile.

  “You should take her out,” Page says excitedly. “Especially since you broke her vagina.”

  “Page!” Penelope chastises. “You shut your mouth right now.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she giggles. “I almost told him about your vibrator problems.”

  “Oh hell,” Penelope huffs, taking a rather large sip of her drink.

  Very pleased with Page right now, I make a note to hire her soon so I can pay her back for the wonderful information she’s divulged. Hell, I might even put her in my will. “You having some vibrator problems there, Miss Prescott? Anything I can assist you with?”

  “I think you’ve done enough,” she snaps at me. “Now if you will excuse us, we don’t want you here anymore.” The way her bottom lip pokes out with an indignant pout makes me want to lean in and bite it.

  “I don’t mind him, he’s a fine piece of eye candy,” Davies counters.

  “I kind of like him,” Page sloppily winks at me, causing Penelope to fall on her back and stare up at the sky in frustration.

  Caving into Penelope’s demands, only because I know for damn sure that I’ll be eating at the Red Room tonight now, I decide to leave, but not before testing Penelope one more time.

  Leaning over her body, caging her head with my hands, I stare her in the eyes and talk softly to her, soft enough that Davies and Page would really have to strain to hear what I’m saying.

  “I hope you have fun on your date tonight, Penelope.” She sucks in a deep breath at the sound of me saying her given name. “But I assure you it will be your last. Your next date will involve me in a suit, you in that backless dress, and a private dinner on my balcony where I’ll seduce you into my bedroom and fuck you until the sun comes up. Do you understand?”

  She doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, just stares up at me, a little gulp working its way through her throat.