The Dumb Fuck

by Marie Stanley

  This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen, he really was a dumbfuck asshole. He was fast coming to realize that their friends with benefits relationship was hard on her emotionally. Admittedly, he was a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of man and Waverly was ultimately a white picket fence kind of woman, even if she tried to pretend otherwise. This woman might be too much for him, and she was definitely too good for him. Waverly was a woman ruled by her emotions. For fuck’s sake, she gave money to three different endangered animal foundations because the commercials made her cry. She was fostering four children in four different impoverished countries, their photos hung proudly on her refrigerator. She read Wuthering Heights once a year. Finding her in tears last night did not surprise him.

  Even though they had agreed on a sex only, it was pretty damn obvious that they had moved beyond that. He was in uncharted territory. For the first time, he wanted more from someone than just sex – he just wasn’t clear on how it had happened.

  His time with her had only been about sex, it wasn’t loving and it wasn’t relationship like – they had fucked. He had loved it and she had loved it. But he was a smart man, last night it had been loving and relationship-ish. And he had liked it. He had meant every goddamn sweet, syrupy and kind thing he had said to her. She was caring, loyal to a fault, funny and goofy, intuitive about people, and generous to a fault. A better person than a man like him deserved, that was for damn sure – he just wondered how long it would take her to figure that out.

  He was sure that he had never known someone who was so smart and so ditzy, and so fucking sexy at the same time. Although she was a confident woman, she was also genuinely unaware that every man in the room turned to watch her when she walked into, or out of, a room.

  He left her apartment without waking her, the beloved cell phone of hers had chirped, beeped and buzzed, after silencing it, he had placed it on her nightstand. Wandered into her home office searching for a piece of paper to leave her a note, it was a perfect reflection of her, deep, dusty blue walls, white painted antique looking furniture, a couple of colorful, oil paintings in a contemporary, impressionist style. He chuckled to himself, classic and crazy – it captured her perfectly.

  Her desk was a mess, stacks, upon stacks of papers haphazardly placed with no apparent rhyme or reason. It made him twitchy just looking at the disorganized mess, starting to just straighten up the piles, he noticed her weekly organizer open to the coming week. She had scheduled dinner plans with John on Tuesday. Waverly had surprised him again. Maybe he wouldn’t leave a note. Crumpling the blank piece of note paper in his hand, into a very small wad and threw it into the wastebasket. He missed.

  Was it enough he wondered, now that he had fucked her again? He had vowed that he would have her again and he had. Maybe things should stay at just sex between them?

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  So he flew to New York for business. He was determined to distract himself - he worked late into the night and tried to get her out of his mind. Went out to dinner with some old college friends and listened to them blather on about how miserable they were with their wives, how they were screwing everything that walked by and their wives were doing the same. Gotta love the blue blood keep-up-appearances marriages. He went to a ball game, got drunk alone in his room. Nothing worked. It occurred to him that he could go out and get laid, but for the first time in his life had no interest. He thought maybe he should look into taking some testosterone so he would stop acting like such a pussy about her. He still thought about her a lot.

  Even after seeing her scheduled date, he had texted her after he left her apartment, knowing her obsession with her phone, he was a little surprised that she hadn’t texted him back. Checking his cell phone again - one voice mail, and only two texts, neither from her. It bothered him and it bothered him a lot. Waverly probably had more than twenty of each already, he figured, and it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. On the fourth day, he admitted defeat, broke down, and texted Ann.

  “Ann, it’s Walker. Have you spoken to Waverly?” A moment later, his phone chirped.

  “Yes?” Ann replied. Figured - the two now had a fucking friendship, spin class, shopping. Sometimes he really hated Ann.

  His phone chirped again. “Text her. Tell her that you miss her.” Fucking Ann, she was probably right. This was uncharted territory for him and he didn’t like feeling uncertain about his actions.

  Resigned, Walker pulled up his last text to Waverly and then typed in, “What are you doing?”

  Nothing. Fuck. No response.

  His phone finally chirped “Aw, you miss me,” her text teased.

  Fuck. Her did miss her, the thought was shocking to him.

  “Hanging with Benn, we’re going out for a run,” she returned.

  He just wanted to beat the shit out of Benn and his ridiculous hipster glasses. Benn was her bff, her number one, he could do no wrong in Waverly’s eyes. Everything was easy between them, hanging out together whenever they wanted, hugging, texting each other all god damn day long. Walker wanted her to have that kind of easy relationship with him. Only him. Not Benn, and not John Whoeverthefuck.

  “You going to wear those tight running pants?”

  “No.” A long pause, while he sat there just staring at his phone like a fucking, teenage boy, wondering what he was supposed to say now. The phone beeped as he was staring at it.

  “Tight running shorts. They’re called Booty shorts. Very, very short.”

  Those amazing legs of hers. He groaned.

  “Jesus. I want to feel them,” his text grumbled.

  “Then you should come home,” was her reply. Walker paused for a bit before texting back.

  “You miss me,” he teased her.

  “Well one part of you,” she replied with a winking face.

  Well, fuck. He missed all of her. Dammit, he was smiling.

  “Keep the shorts on, Hippie Girl. Want to see you in them, then take them off you.”

  “Are you sexting me, Mr. Rike?” Waverly asked.

  “Yes. Aren’t you supposed to send me a picture of your tits now?”

  “HA. Seriously?”

  “Be my date, dinner party. My house. Ipswich. Friday 7:00?”

  “K. Where’s my dick pic?”

  Walker snorted, smiling again at her text. The exchange had made him happy. Happy because he was exchanging moronic texts with her, and staring at his phone waiting for each reply from her like a pussy. He was so fucked.

  “Ann, Organize a get together for tomorrow. Dinner. Catered. Drinks before. Waverly,” he typed out.

  “Organize what?”

  Walker chuckled at her reply.

  “Waverly thinks my social circle won’t accept her. I want to prove to her that they will,” Walker explained via text.

  “You sure about this?” Ann asked. Jameson’s smile faded.

  “Get back to work. You have a party to plan.”

  His phone buzzed with another text from Ann.

  “Did you send the dick pic?”

  Walker threw his phone down on his desk and knocked back the rest of his bourbon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Walker stood at his bar in his study two days later, a bourbon in one hand, his opposite hand restlessly flipping his cell phone over and over. Deciding to go all out to win Waverly over, and, away from John Whateverthefuck, and Benn, and whatever other motherfucker came at her. Along with that, he would prove to Waverly that his social circle would welcome her. Ann, however, wasn’t convinced that it was a wise idea. Mingling amongst themselves, in his great room were twenty friends, co-workers, and their spouses. The only person he truly wanted in his house had yet to show up.

  She was late.

  “Anne, did she text you?” Anne had shown up, under the pretense of dropping off some papers, he had a hunch that she was really th
ere to gawk, and, that there just might be an office pool riding on whether this was going to blow up in his face.

  “No. You did actually invite her, right, you didn’t just order her to show up? Waverly is a very on time person, she hates to be late? She actually said that she was coming?

  Walker glared at her.

  “I thought you two texted back and forth all day like she does with every other fucking person in the world,” he replied.

  “What can I say, Walker. She likes me.”

  Walker frowned.

  Relief flooded him when he saw the lights of an arriving car light the portico. Fucking finally. Would it be wrong to give Anne the finger, he wondered.

  “Sorry, I’m late, I hate being late,” Waverly smiled at him from the front passenger seat, opening the door, and twisting, then swinging her mile long, legs, gracefully, setting her feet on the ground.

  “Who’s driving?” He asked, leaning forward, better not be fucking wonder boy Benn, he thought to himself.

  Reaching in to give her his hand to help her out of the car, she looked up at him and his heart stopped, she had on more makeup than she usually wore, particularly around her eyes. They were rimmed in black, in a soft, smudgy way, very sex kitteny, making her beautiful gray eyes even more striking.

  As she stood, he took in her outfit, wishing he had told her to wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was wearing a light gray fitted dress made out of lace mesh, over a nude lining. Long, sheer, fitted sleeves with scalloped cuffs covered her toned arms. Nude, Louboutins on her feet. While he ogled, she fluffed her hair, while the dress at first glance looked sexy, it was actually sophisticated and demure. It showed off her body spectacularly, her breasts large, her waist small and he just knew if she turned around, that he would have a very hard time keeping his hands off of her ass. He wanted to show her off and at the same time throw his suit jacket over her so nobody else could look at her.

  Was it dark and could he pay the driver enough, he wondered, to fuck her right there on the car, without anyone seeing.

  “Hey Mr. Rike, it’s me, Matt Hampton, It’s my fault, sir,” the younger man popped up out of the driver’s seat, stepping around the car and cautiously coming up to Walker and Waverly. As they both turned towards him, he began explaining to Walker nervously, “My car wouldn’t start, I tried jumping it and then Waverly, uh, Miss Matthews saw me waiting for the tow truck. I explained that I had to get home to my mom’s tonight, it’s just outside of the city. Waverly, uh, she said that she would let me use her car. I tried to say no, but she insisted. So I could, you know, get home for my mom’s birthday. If I just dropped her off, here, you could get her home and I could return her car later.”

  Walker turned back to Waverly, his eyebrows raised. Waverly smiled at him sweetly. “Matt, I told you it’s no problem, go, do your thing, wish your mom happy birthday for me. Tell her I look forward to seeing her again at the office Holiday party.”

  The young man’s face reddened, looking at Waverly practically drooling, Walker wanted to reach over and smack him in the back of the head, instead, he slid his arm around Waverly possessively, then grudgingly reached out to shake the young man’s hand and thank him.

  “Is there a man alive who doesn’t fall at your feet?” He asked as he led her into his house.

  “He’s just a kid, I couldn’t let him miss his mom’s birthday,” she huffed at him, rolling her eyes.

  “That ‘kid’ looked at you like he wants to do to you, exactly what I want to do to you, Hippie Girl,” he grumbled.

  They entered the house, Waverly could see into the great room, people laughing and smiling politely, drinking out of crystal glasses and chatting. As well as his known hatred of being in the press, Walker was known to be fairly reclusive, she smiled to herself thinking that she would actually call it unwelcoming, reclusive was his word. His guests must have been thrilled at the invitation.

  “Walker?” She asked. Standing directly behind her, one hand resting on her waist, his other hand reached around to hand her a drink.

  “I know that you think these people believe that you’re beneath them. Here they are, the elite, the wealthy, the upper crust of Chicago. Go ahead, get to know them, there are maybe five total who aren’t almost completely worthless. Tonight will prove that to you.”

  Thinking it over, she watched them curiously.

  “But why?” She pressed, taking in all of his guests.

  “Their money makes no difference, Waverly. You’re a better person than any of them. Go mingle, talk to them and see that it’s true. That I’m right”

  “You did this for me,” she replied, placing her hand over the tattoo on his arm and squeezing gently.

  Leaning into her, he whispered in her ear, “I expect a reward later. Now let’s mingle.”

  “Lydia, Tilly, Carter, Hal, this is, Waverly. Waverly, Carter’s in mergers and acquisitions at the company, Lydia is his wife, and Carter runs global accounting, and Tilly is his wife,” he introduced them all around.

  The women looked her up and down while giving polite smiles and handshakes, the men were more genuine, shaking hands with her enthusiastically. Carter’s eyes never left her tits, and Hal wouldn’t let go of her hand until Walker cleared his throat pointedly. Waverly was warm and friendly, and, as always, she had the two men laughing and eating out of her hand within minutes. He joined in the conversation once or twice and tried to communicate non-verbally to both Carter and Hal that they keep their eyes on her eyes, but no lower. Walker quickly remembered why he tended to be a loner. It occurred to him that this party might be one of his worst ideas and that he would like to fire both men immediately, although neither one of then seemed to pick up on that. When Hal put his hand on Waverly’s arm for the third time, he decided to remove the temptation and introduced her to a new group of people, this one mainly women.

  Walker was cornered by a few of the men when he was making his way to the bar to get a refill on their drinks, as he talked shop with the men, he watched Waverly mingle. The men were gawking at her, and the women were being politely friendly to her. Trapped in the group conversation, he saw that Waverly had excused herself, heading to the bar on her own to refill her drink. The hired bartender was chatting her up and soon Waverly was smiling and wrinkling her nose, her head thrown back laughing at something the guy said as he handed her two drinks. Fuck, she was so fucking cute when she laughed really hard. Waving her hands around as she talked with him, one drink slightly sloshed over the glass, the bartender just smiled and mopped it up, totally entranced with her.

  In a minute he would find her behind the bar with the guy while he showed her how to mix drinks. Walker wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to other men wanting her, when they were in public together?

  “Your newest one nighter, buddy?” Buckley Kent interrupted his thoughts.

  “She’s part owner of WestMat Creative, she’s handling our account -,” Walker explained.

  Kent was watching Waverly. “Ahh, she’s a working girl, I thought so. Ha, not really our type but we all know those non blue blood types are hot as fuck in bed. Well done, Rike.”

  Walker didn’t smile, Buckley Kent was a prick, everyone knew that including his wife who he cheated on regularly and although she wasn’t the most attractive woman, she was sweet and undeservedly loyal to Kent. Walker narrowed his eyes at Kent’s retreating form. As much as he wanted to kick the guy’s ass and then throw him out of his house, this party was for Waverly, he would find another way to deliver his retribution.

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.”

  Where the fuck had Waverly escaped to now?

  The only good part of the evening before dinner was the drinks, and maybe the nice bartender she spoke to who was interested in becoming a designer. Waverly found dinner to be very awkward overall. After being announced, Walker moved to one end of a very
large table, Waverly was uncertain about where to sit, until he reached for her, placing her in the chair to his right. Unfortunately, the creeper Kent sat across from them and eying her chest repeatedly, while his poor wife downed glass after glass of Chardonnay. Noticing Kent noticing her, Walker stopped talking altogether, spending the majority of dinner focused glaring at Kent. There was boring talk from the men about bonds, annuities, and tax evasion plans and the women talked clothing, charities and nannies.

  Brooke, the woman seated to her right, wearing a dressy-ish twin set was genuinely friendly, though, asking Waverly questions about her business, she had a sister who was a photographer, so they talked arty things for a while. Brooke’s husband Will, also joined the conversation occasionally, which served as a pleasant diversion. The only time that Walker seemed to relax during the entire dinner, was when she caught Will trying to slide his hand up his wife’s thigh, only noticing because Brooke’s face went beet red as it was happening. Embarrassed she shoved his hand away gently, hiding a warm smile as she did it. Waverly politely looked away, hoping to avoid causing them any embarrassment, Walker had also witnessed the display, and she was pleasantly surprised to see his lips turned up slightly at the corners.

  Towards the end of dinner, Walker finally lightened up, laughing and talking with some of the men seated close to them. Waverly was enjoying her conversation with Brooke and Will, while dessert was being served to everyone, Walker excused himself from the table which she, and everyone noticed, returning, he placed a cup of coffee with cream, exactly the way she liked, it in front of her. Looking up to meet Walker’s eyes, he winked at her. Startled she smothered a laugh, reaching out, he gently pushed her hair behind her ear, leaned over and whispered, “Drink up Wave, I want you wide awake when we’re finally alone.” Stunned silence met her, all conversation at the table had stopped, all heads turned to witness their exchange. She could feel the animosity from the women at the table radiating out to her. Waverly sighed and drank her coffee.