by Holley Trent
His smile broadened. “Oh? Is that all? I thought it might have been something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like you trying to tame me, maybe? Nice try, but eviler women have tried and failed.”
Her jaw dropped. “I—I don’t know what…I—”
“Don’t worry about it.” His tongue swirled down the side of her neck toward where her fingers had a desperate clamp on the towel.
One devilish little voice in her head was saying, “Drop the towel! Remember?” The other was saying, “Go ahead and drop your bottom, too, you hussy.” Where was the little angel on her shoulder when she needed her?
If she’d been paying more attention, she would have found Jerry’s thumbs were already hooked into the sides of her bikini bottom, and as he pulled them down, he followed them to the floor in a kneel. With one compulsory nudge at her thigh, her legs parted and he was right there.
“What are doing?” Her voice was breathy, which was no surprise given her sudden inability to draw in air.
“Checking you for sunburn.”
Two fingers parted her lower lips, then a warm, wet tongue made a lap around her slit.
She said a prayer of thanks for remembering to go get that pre-beach wax while she was in Elizabeth City, and then cursed herself for being so vain at a moment like that. “Um…”
He held himself back a few inches, and looked up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Why don’t you drop the towel? It’s going to get hot.”
She was already hot. She let the towel fall to the floor, and the corners of his lips turned up into a triumphant grin.
Then he went back to work, licking, pulling, sucking until her toes curled against the cold tile, and she gripped the sink edge for support.
Oh my fuck. This feels like the worst kind of sin. I’m going to burn for this.
He had started probing her opening with his fingers, when Ginger opened the front door and called into the house, “Yoo hoo! Trinity, Della found me on the beach. I’m going to throw on a dress and go down to the bar with her.”
He pushed the bathroom door closed and continued on as if what they were doing wasn’t a far too intimate thing.
Naturally, Trinity struggled to respond. “Um! Oh…okay! I’m just…taking a cool bath. Uhh…”
Footsteps sounded past the door, she tensed until she was sure she heard Ginger rooting around in the master bedroom.
He slid a finger into her, and Trinity stifled what would have otherwise been a loud gasp by jamming the fleshy part of her hand between her teeth.
He lifted her foot, and wrapped her leg around his neck to further his access. “God, you’re tight,” he barely whispered before darting his tongue into the aforementioned tight place.
“Um…”
Ginger walked back by, this time in heels, and paused in front of the door.
Trinity grabbed a handful of Jerry’s dreads to hold his face back as Ginger said. “I’m off! Don’t wait up. You know how we get when we start dancing.”
“I sure do. Have fun!”
Then Ginger was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Jerry resumed his tongue’s fluttering on her most sensitive areas, stroking inside her until she felt like she was about to explode. When he forced one more finger into her, she let loose a torrent of vulgarity that probably could have been heard from Ocracoke.
With a flick of his thumb over her clit, she came, bucking between him and sink, with her fingers gripping his hair.
While she came down from her high, panting, boneless, he stood and wiped his mouth clean on his forearm. As he leaning against her, the hard cock at her belly was a slightly frightening reminder of the one-sided nature of their interaction.
Eventually, he’d call in the favor.
His teeth pulled at her earlobe, and he whispered, “Girl, I would hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“But it’d be worth it.”
“After the first time.”
“That’s the spirit.” When he pulled back, he said, “I’ll be surfing until dark. Risk of sunburn should be long past.”
“I’ll…I’ll pop out.”
“Good.” He gave her ass a commandeering squeeze, then left.
* * *
Jerry didn’t think Trinity was going to show up at the beach after he brought her to the brink and sent her hurtling unceremoniously to the edge, but there she was. Dressed in little shorts and a baggy white shirt, sitting atop a towel, she waited and watched about fifteen minutes before he planned to leave.
If she ever had the inclination to slick on some lipstick she’d be a knockout. But then, he might feel the need to do some knocking out himself. He was generally laid-back when it came to chicks and all their tricks, but something about the pixie was growing on him. Yeah, she was a bit awkward and more than a little bit bossy at times, but when he pushed the right buttons, she was a damn pussycat.
He caught one weak-ass wave closer to the shore and it collapsed long before he reached the sand.
He swam then walked his board to Trinity, and rested it atop the shell-smattered beach.
“How long have you been sitting here?” he asked, squatting down beside her towel and resting his forearms on his knees.
“About half an hour. Saw you wipe out a couple times.”
“Ah, waves are shit today. I knew they would be. It was in the surf report. Still, I didn’t want to drive far.”
“Why?”
“I’ve…got a lot to do at home tomorrow. Normally I spend the night somewhere, but I just wanted a couple of hours today.”
“Sorry to cut into it,” she said it a snotty tone.
“Whoa! What’s that all about?” He assessed her face and found false nonchalance on it. If he learned anything from working for her in all that time, the first and foremost thing was she wore her emotions very freely. Trinity didn’t do blank face. Or, rather, she tried and failed. Something was up.
“Nothing. I’ve been sitting here long enough to see you hug and kiss no fewer than three bimbos in bikini tops.”
He had to think about it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Trinity. I’ve known those girls for years. I taught all three to surf back in the day.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“Well, you don’t seem to have any female friends back in Chowan County beyond Nikki, but here at the beach you’re literally drowning in them. It’s like you’re leading two lives.”
“Hardly. Is that seriously what put you in such a shitty mood? I’m sorry for being nice to people, Trinity. Jealousy isn’t a flattering trait, by the way.”
She scoffed. “I am not jealous.”
“Yeah, you are. And frankly, I don’t understand it. You’ve got a lot going for you. I mean, aside from your bad attitude.”
She gaped.
Ah. Expression. There it is.
“There’s nothing wrong with my attitude.”
“Yeah, there is. It’s just a false front, and don’t pretend otherwise. I bet you even like to cuddle.”
She looked away.
“Oh? Haven’t done that either?” he asked in a low, serious voice.
“Look, earlier was a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. You seemed into it at the time, and interested in a sequel.”
“You can hardly count that.”
“Yeah I can. And I will. I’m thirty-two years old, Trinity. Don’t let my appearance or any of my extracurricular activities fool you. I’m a grown-ass man, and I only play with big girls. I’m not going to waste my time courting anyone who doesn’t know what they want. I like to play, really I do, and I’m really good. But I don’t want to be toyed with.”
She smoothed her face to that artificial blankness again.
“All right then, Trinity. See you at work. Maybe I’ll tell you about what we saw on the video footage.”
He picked up his board and schlepped
it to his Jeep, growling all the way.
CHAPTER TEN
“What’s wrong, honey, is your mimosa not boozy enough?” Aunt Ginger slipped her sunglasses further down her nose and watched Trinity with interest.
They were out on the front porch of the beach house, enjoying a late breakfast of bagel sandwiches and leftover champagne that was threatening to go flat.
Trinity looked down into her glass. She hadn’t even tasted it, she’d been so distracted. She quickly remedied that. “No, Aunt Ginger, it’s perfect as always.”
“What are you thinking about so hard, then?”
“Work.” Liar.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“It’s…complicated. I guess it’s more of a personnel issue than a performance one.”
“Oh boy. I’ve had my share of those. I hate firing folks, but every now and then I get a hygienist who’s a real stinker. Is the person getting in the way of you doing your job?”
“Well, he hasn’t yet. He’s just a distraction. He’s kind of…everywhere.”
“He, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s a whole different ball of wax. Is it the beautiful ex-pro surfer?”
Trinity was silent.
“Oh. So, what? Mad at yourself?”
“Sort of. Yeah, a lot, actually.”
“Why?”
“A lot of reasons. For one, I thought I’d just tease him a bit to get him to stop being such a smug jerk. Then I found out that he really is quite intelligent. Like really, Aunt Ginger.”
“There’s a saying about judging books by covers.”
“Yes. Well, being twenty-five, I usually pretend all those old sayings aren’t grounded in reality. You know, kinda like the Bible.”
“Ohhhh, boy. When’d you go off the rails, Trinity?”
“I don’t know. Probably right around the same time I figured out you were never on the rails in the first place. And that leads to another thing. He may look twenty-four, but he’s thirty-two, Aunt Ginger.”
“And?”
“The age isn’t the problem. The fact he doesn’t date casually is. I mean, I can see giving him a chance…”
“But you don’t see yourself settling down anytime soon.”
“Right. Or, I guess more accurately I’ve never given it any thought. I’ve never dated anyone seriously. I mean, there were a few dates here and there in college, but they never went anywhere because I was so focused on class and homework. I suppose that means they didn’t rock my world enough to give them a second thought.”
“Well, my husband was my first and only.”
“That’s really cute, Aunt Ginger, but this is a new millennium. We girls like to try things before we buy nowadays.”
Ginger giggled into her mimosa. “Jesus, Trinity. How old do you think I am?”
“Old enough,” Trinity mumbled.
“I heard that. Little wench.”
* * *
The following day opened with the weekly staff meeting in the barn.
Jerry seemed agitated at his usual spot at the table, grinding his perfect teeth and twirling his tablet computer’s stylus between his fingers. He had his hair tucked up into a red, black, green, and yellow Rasta cap, and looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
Trinity tried not to care, but every time she took note of his long sleeves and baggy cargo pants, she thought about how he was perfectly golden tanned where he wasn’t inked. She’d never been so lucky. She just burned.
Remembering the sunburn, she suddenly had a niggling urge to reach back and scratch. She forgot it just as quickly, however, when Nikki turned the meeting to the topic of the previous week’s break-in.
“Jerry, Charlie, and I have analyzed the footage,” Nikki said. She paused to sip her sport drink, and screwed the cap back on. “We didn’t get absolutely clear views of the faces, but we could tell for certain that we’re dealing with two suspects. The man was heavyset and he looked like he had a buzz cut. He had on one of those tight T-shirts like you see on weightlifters.”
“Or bouncers,” Beth said from the corner.
Trinity hadn’t even noticed her there. Beth was writing polish color numbers on the big whiteboard under the underlined words For Photo Shoot.
“Yeah, that’s right, bouncers. The woman was tall and thin with long dark hair, and seemed to be the one in charge. We believe she’s being offered compensation to shake things up here. Personally, I think Rococo is involved, and still pissed about me not crashing and burning our first year. So, I suspect, and Charlie agrees, that whoever it is will probably try to find an alternate way into the building. They’re not going to give up so easily, so we’re going to keep everything important in alternate locations until we get all this mess cleared up. Thank you all for your patience. Now, I want to talk to you all about tomorrow’s photo shoot.”
Boom!
A loud explosion outside shook the conference table.
Seconds later, the power went out.
The staff was utterly quiet then Nikki’s voice broke the silence. “Ain’t. That. Some. Shit.”
Everyone stood and moved as a unit to the main barn doors.
Juan got there first, and pushed the right side open. He whistled low, and mumbled something fast and probably vulgar in Spanish.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Jerry said.
“You understand Spanish?” Trinity asked before she could help it.
“Speak it,” he responded curtly.
Probably had a girlfriend who spoke Spanish. One who owns a wetsuit and knows how to surf. Probably has huge tits and a sunblock allergy.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gramma, call the fire department before Charlie and Chuck lose half a field of cotton.”
“I’m on it, baby.” Gramma Stacy shuffled to the reception desk in her slippers at a faster-than-normal speed.
Thank goodness the phones and server had a limited back-up power supply in case of emergency…like the one they were witnessing.
“Jerry?”
“Electric company. Yeah.” He pushed past Trinity and jogged toward the back of the barn to his own phone.
The rest of the staff, including Trinity and Nikki, stood in the doorway agape, watching one fallen power line pole burn, and the dangling lines crackle and snap.
“What the hell could have done that?” Nikki asked.
It didn’t take too long for them to find out.
“That was a goddamned bomb,” the volunteer fire chief, Alonzo, reported while some straggling firefighters made notes on their clipboards about the damage done to the field. The fire had been contained pretty quickly when Charlie had the bright idea to turn the irrigation system on.
“Bomb? Who around here would even know how to do something like that?” Nikki asked.
Jerry leaned against the doorframe, holding a little paper cup of coffee. Charlie’s mom had gotten the generator going up at the main house for the sole purpose of allowing the pot to finishing perking. “Nikki, anyone with Internet access nowadays can rig a bootleg bomb.”
“Jerry’s right, as usual,” the chief said. “But let me tell you one thing—I used to be chief at a station in DC before the ex-wife moved us down here, and I never saw one of these crude bootleg bombs where the person who put it together didn’t leave some evidence behind. They always figure it’ll all blow up in the explosion. We can get some prints off that casing, I bet.”
“Hope so,” Nikki said. “When do you think the electric company can get in and do their stuff?”
“Any time now. We’re all done. The police’ll give you a call when the lab analyzes those fragments. You really should have called the sheriff about the break-ins, Nikki. They might have been able to help.”
“Or not.”
“Never know. Anything else happens…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nikki waved him away and headed back into the barn, calling behind her, “Juan, are you all set to make that boutique delivery? I
want to get our inventory cleared out pronto just in case anyone else has any bright ideas for sabotage.”
“I was going to leave at one. I’ll get ready now.”
“I appreciate it. If you get back early enough, I want to move the rest of the surplus into the storage facility.”
Trinity followed on Nikki’s heels, helping her batten down the hatches, as it were. They locked up important files, made sure the windows were properly latched, and secured the private office.
“Nikki, you seem far too calm,” Trinity observed as she loaded the nail polishes selected for the following day’s shoot into a make-up case along with the other coordinating cosmetics that would be marketed alongside.
“What do you mean? I’m always calm. I’m like a goddamned cucumber, that’s how chill I am.”
“Are you on drugs?” Trinity heard herself say, and then quickly amended the statement. It hadn’t come out the way she meant. “I mean, are you taking some kind of calming herb or something, because anyone else would be barking like a rabid dog right now.”
“Oh.” Nikki shrugged. “Charlie noted the change, too. I thought he was just trying to get some, so I ignored him. Maybe there’s something to it. Probably hormonal.” She rubbed the top of her belly idly, and leaned against the formulation bench. “Less hormones in general being pumped into my bloodstream now that I’m in the homestretch. I probably won’t get really crazy again until my feet are in the stirrups.”
“Wow. Pregnancy seems to be such a complicated endeavor.”
“Well, it’s probably more complicated for people like you and me who are technical-minded. You’ll want to read every single thing. You’ll know what every little twinge and symptom is. You’ll probably even be able to figure out what’s what on an ultrasound without being told.”
“That’s good, right?”
Nikki snorted. “Hell no. Sometimes I wish I had the Dumb-as-Dirt Disease, so when I show up at my prenatal appointments, there’s some element of surprise.”
“Nikki, I think you’ll be plenty surprised when that first real contraction knocks you off your ass.” Gramma Stacy had joined them at the bench with a big black trash bag filled with the food from the refrigerator and freezer. She’d worried the power wouldn’t return soon.