Rush

by Violet Vaughn

  I doubt there’s everything I need right now because a good sex toy would be handy. “Thanks.” I enter a bathroom decorated in shades of taupe and pink. The slate sink has an ornate mirror above it with a freestanding cabinet set next to it. I open it to find what I need. Grabbing shampoo and conditioner for colored hair, I turn to the towel rack. It’s metal and has a dial on the side. Nice. It can be switched on to heat the towels. This is my kind of bathroom.

  Stripping off my sweaty running clothes, the odor of my musk wafts toward me. Okay, weird as it was, whatever it was, that was totally hot. I shudder a tiny bit with the memory of Derrick’s touch. Twisting on the shower, I set it to be on the cool side. I need to put out this fire if I’m going to sit near him and keep it together.

  The square showerhead rains water over me. So gentle, the cool liquid is like a caress. I search for a way to adjust the flow. I need to feel strong pressure and flip the switch to stream. My skin relishes the pounding.

  Fifteen minutes later and I’m dressed in my work polo, Bermuda shorts and my usual ponytail. While my hair is wet, it will be dry enough by the time we open for lunch. I jog down the stairs to the kitchen and am greeted by the smell of strong coffee.

  “Coffee?” Derrick holds a mug out toward me.

  “That would be wonderful. I take it black.”

  “A no-frills girl, I like it.” His eyes dance with amusement as he hands me the cup.

  Of course you do. Who needs foreplay? Obviously I don’t. “Thanks.” The oversized mug is hot in my hands, and I take a sip without thinking. The bitter liquid burns my tongue and tears prick my eyes as it scorches its way down my throat. I’m handling this well, not.

  Derrick asks, “Wasn’t that hot?” I’m about to say no when he continues. “Nika has the coffee maker set to almost boiling so her coffee can stay warm longer. I burn my tongue almost every time.”

  “Um, yeah. I did burn my tongue. I should have tested it first.” I slide onto a leather-cushioned bar chair.

  “No, my bad. I should have warned you. Sorry about that.”

  His mouth draws my attention, and my lips ache with the need to kiss him. Suddenly grateful for the island of granite between us, I nod and glance past him toward the stove. “What’s for breakfast?”

  Derrick leans his arms on the counter so his face is closer. Close enough I smell his warm spicy scent mixed with a hint of something familiar my mind knows is dangerous. His low voice wraps around me, accosting my senses. “I should have warned you about something else too. I take what I want if it’s offered.”

  My core twinges at his words, and I will myself not to squirm. “So I gathered.” I sit back in my chair to resist the strong urge to back him up against a wall and make him beg me to touch him.

  He stands again and opens a cabinet. Heavy ceramic plates clatter against the stone, and he says, “Eggs, bacon, and toast if you want it.” He’s at ease in this kitchen, and I realize the geeky guy at my bar is long gone. This version has me simmering.

  Wait, something he wants? “I’ll take it all. I seem to have worked up an appetite.” I’m so playing with fire, but I can’t help it. I haven’t been this attracted to a guy in a long time. I’m absolutely sure he’s trouble, but I don’t care.

  His low laugh rumbles through me as he plates up breakfast for the two of us. I ask, “Should we wait for Nika?”

  “She doesn’t eat breakfast. She’ll be down for coffee soon.”

  He sets the food down and comes around to join me. Just as he does, I hear a parade of footsteps on the stairs. The dogs tumble down in a pack, and I’m not sure they regain balance until they’re at the bottom.

  “Smells great, Derrick. Thanks for cooking for Gretchen.” Nika breezes into the kitchen. Without any makeup she’s still stunningly beautiful in a simple golf skirt and polo shirt.

  “You’re welcome. If I left it up to you, she’d leave here unsatisfied.” He sneaks me a wink when Nika turns to fill her mug with coffee.

  Cocky. I like it. I shake my head and squint my eyes at him in mock anger. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

  Nika tilts her head at me. “What’s going on? You two are getting along, aren’t you?”

  Damn, she’s good. “We’re fine. He makes a mean breakfast.” Taking a final bite of my toast, I lick my fingers, but force it to be matter of fact instead of flirty. “Delicious.”

  “Great. We should go soon so you’re not late for work. Plus, I have a tee time at ten. Almost ready?” She pours milk into her travel mug of coffee.

  “Yes, let me brush my teeth, and I’m good to go.” I get up with my plate, but Derrick grabs my wrist with a grip a bit tighter than normal.

  “I’ve got it.” He pauses and then says, “I do more than cook. I’m a full-service kind of guy.” He releases my wrist, but I’m trapped by his eyes. There’s no mistaking what he meant, and my insides quiver.

  “Jesus, Derrick. You might try dating her first.” Nika shakes her head. “Even you aren’t that hot. Women like a little romance.”

  Wanna bet?

  “Fine. Gretchen, would you go out with me? Dinner maybe? Then we can come back here to fuck.”

  “You’re such a pig! Ugh. Don’t listen to him, Gretchen. He’s just trying to push my buttons.” She hits Derrick on the arm. “I don’t know why I try to help. You ruin any chance you’ve got the moment you open your mouth.”

  “Then maybe you should stop, and let me find a girl that appreciates my direct ways.” He looks right at me and says, “She might be just as relieved as I am not to have to play the game.”

  I hold up a hand. “No comment. I’m going to get ready and leave you two to this discussion.” Because I’m at a loss for words here. I jog up the stairs to escape as lust courses through my veins.

  Chapter 7

  Metal clangs as I roll silverware in a napkin. Now that I’ve contained my lust, my brain is trying to sort out what I want because Derrick made it crystal clear he wants sex with me. And I more than want it with him. The idea of a sexual relationship without the games sounds appealing. I tend to get involved with guys that fall in love with me. We hook up, start a relationship based on sex, and then in a few months when we’re just getting into a groove, they go and fall in love with me. I usually see it coming. They get clingy, sometimes jealous, and my skin crawls with the attention. I feel trapped and have to let them go. Derrick doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy. So what’s niggling at me?

  Moving on to the pile of bar towels, I fold them neatly. Thirsty cotton is plush in my hands as I let the methodic process soothe my frazzled state. I’m interrupted by a scratchy smoker’s voice. “Good morning, Gretchen. Mind if we take our table early?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Grimes. I’m just about done here and can take your drink order for the waitress. I’ll be right over.” Mr. Grimes and a few other retired gentlemen come in to play poker one day a week. They sit in a corner for most of the day. They have a good time, and the waitress that gets them usually has fun too.

  Within an hour we’re busy and stay that way until midafternoon. I’m grateful because it means I’m making money.

  As the lunch rush dies down, I begin to make my list for restocking. Turning from the beer cooler, a bright blue shirt catches my eye. Okay, what’s in it is what gets my attention. Derrick walks through the door as if he’s parting the red sea. A group of women are leaving, and they divide to let him through. More than one head follows his movement. Uh-huh, ladies. I get it. You should see what he does with those hands. I chuckle at my inner dialogue.

  “Well, you look happy to see me. And here I thought I had to apologize for this morning, which is why I’m here.”

  “Really? Did Nika force you to?” I tap my pen on the bar as he takes a seat where he sat last time.

  “I don’t do things I don’t want to do.” He licks his lips as he watches me. My pulse quickens, and I fight the urge to squirm. “My approach may not have been the best, but I did mean what I
said.”

  Oh, hell. I banter back quickly. “All of it?”

  “All of it, but dinner is negotiable.” A smile reaches his eyes.

  I feel my nipples harden as my insides tremble. This no-games thing is hot. “I think I might like dinner, considering the breakfast you made. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A Stella, please.” His elbow is resting on the bar, and he rubs his finger along his lower lip.

  I pull a frosted beer glass from the freezer and welcome the chill, hoping it will cool my flushed skin. I ask, “Did you have something in mind?” I quickly add, “For dinner that is.” I watch amber liquid land on the tilted glass and focus on the perfect pour.

  “Dannika has a shoot coming up. She’ll be gone for two weeks, and I could use some help with the dogs. Would you like to come over to run them? And then stay for dinner?”

  I set the glass in front of him, and he takes a large swig. His Adam’s apple jumps in his neck as he swallows. My lips yearn to follow the beer’s trail down his body, and the thought of tasting his cock springs to mind. I clear my throat and the vision. “Sure. I’m free on Wednesday nights.”

  I place a menu in front of Derrick. “Hungry?”

  He leans forward a bit, and his low voice rumbles as he says, “Always.”

  I set my hand on the bar to steady myself, and he latches on. His grip is tight and almost hurts. He pulls me in close, and his musky odor heightens my arousal. He whispers, “Are you wet for me?”

  Holy shit. Game on. “Yes. Do you like that?”

  He smiles slowly and slides his finger down the side of his glass, collecting the moisture from melted frost. I part my lips slightly, and he raises it to my mouth. He says, “Very much.” I suck on his finger and the way his breath catches makes my knees weak.

  I release him, step back, and say, “What can I get you?” I realize I’m ignoring the rest of my customers, and I’d better get to them.

  “A club sandwich, but can you make it to go?”

  “Sure.” I’m dying to ask where it is he needs to be. Instead, I turn and catch the poker guys holding their cards still and watching us. I send them a glare and get back to work. Glad we could entertain you, boys.

  I don’t have a chance to get back to Derrick until his sandwich is ready. I bring it along with the check. “All set. Thank you.” Before he can continue to torture me sexually, a waitress calls my name and I walk away. I glimpse him leaving as I make drinks.

  When I pick up his check I realize he left me another tip of more than fifty dollars. My stomach sinks. I don’t like this. A tip that big once is a nice surprise. Becoming a usual thing? That makes me uncomfortable.

  Chapter 8

  My helmet tightens as I yank on the strap. I wiggle it to make sure the fit is snug and then knock on it twice out of habit. I stand to adjust my elbow pads and glance down at my worn Vans. A twinge of nostalgia floods through me. I’m in skater-girl mode and feeling defiant. During my teen years I spent a lot of time in the park working out my angst, and my muscles are eager for the challenge.

  The sexual frustration I felt today was intense. No guy has ever turned me on the way Derrick does. One look from him and my body trembles with need. I stomp on the end of my board and flip it into my hand. I’m monitoring the outdoor skate park at the rec center tonight, but nobody is here. Later in the evening the teen hangout is downtown. I love this shift because it’s the perfect time for me to train. Tonight I need to think instead.

  Setting my board down, I prepare to fall into the bowl. A quick push off and I roll over the lip. The rumble of the wheels on concrete vibrates through my legs as I go with the flow. Rising up on the other side, I let the board fly up, and I twist around to fall back in. Absorbing the shock with my legs, I let momentum propel me. Each time I gain speed and the rush of it surges through my veins. The need to focus on my movements consumes me as I get into the danger zone. Any false move right now means I’m crashing, and hitting concrete at this speed hurts.

  The concentration becomes too much to handle, and I slow things down. My mind returns to thoughts of Derrick. I can’t believe I have a dinner and fuck date. Nobody says that. I snort to myself because while guys don’t say it out loud, it’s definitely what they want to happen. Maybe they should say it because I’m getting flustered knowing that’s the plan.

  A pair of preteen boys distracts me from my thoughts, and I pop up onto the edge to stop. “Hey guys.”

  Too cool to smile, they nod. I fist bump them as I walk over to the bench where I left my bag. Velcro lets loose with a rip when I take my elbow pads off. Putting them in my bag, I notice a text message light up my phone. It’s Casey, making plans for a girls’ night. Pulling it out, I see a stream of notifications. Seems we’re going dancing, which fits well with my schedule. Working until nine almost every night puts a cramp in my social life.

  I immediately text the group. “I’m in. OK if I bring a friend?” I’m thinking Nika would like to join us.

  I read back through the texts and realize it’s not a girls’ night. Boyfriends are coming too. Uh-oh. Should I invite Derrick so he can meet some guys?

  The girls will dance all night, but the club is attached by a lobby to a burger place with pool tables, and the guys will bounce back and forth between the two. The crew going is all couples. Will that be weird? Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready to invite Derrick yet, but how do I invite Nika only? Sugar. I’m overthinking this in a big way. When did I become such a girl? I chuckle and tell myself to stop. I’ll just invite them both.

  My phone vibrates with a text to the group from Lori. “Sure!”

  I text back. “It will be two. Derrick and Nika. They moved here from NH, not sure where.” Lori is from New Hampshire too.

  No time like the present. I text Nika. “Dancing and pool tomorrow night with friends. You and Derrick want to come?”

  She texts right back. “Yes! So bored.”

  Ugh. She didn’t answer the Derrick question. My phone vibrates again. “You ask D. 603-555-7399”

  That makes me snort. She’s trying so hard to set us up. If she only knew. I imagine her sitting in front of the TV with him and watching for his reaction to my text.

  I text Derrick. Going out with friends to dance and play pool tomorrow night. The guys will play pool; the girls will dance :) Want to come? Nika said yes.”

  Seconds later he texts back. “Do you always text complete words and sentences?”

  I shake my head. I can’t stand textspeak, and my friends know it. I reply, “Yes. Do you?”

  “I do. Textspeak is an insult to the English language.”

  I smile and wait for his answer. Figures he has the same hang-up I do. It must be a control freak thing.

  “What time, and where?”

  “I can meet you outside the Fish Bowl at 9:30. Do you need directions?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I can’t resist pushing the guy navigation button.

  A text from Nika comes in. “He’s :)”

  I text her back. “The girls will wear dresses. Short and tight. :)”

  She replies. “D <3 —> u”

  What the hell does that mean? He’ll like that on me? I’m going to have to clue her in too.

  Derrick texts me. “I’ll find it. Dannika is squealing, thank you for asking us.”

  Wow, that was kind of sweet. Careful, Derrick, I’ll think you want more than sex. My mouth turns up in a smile. Maybe I do too.

  ***

  Truth? I don’t wear dresses. I was a tomboy for so many years that they weren’t part of my usual wardrobe. But tonight I think a short, tight dress is just what I need to leave Derrick panting.

  Casey hands me a black dress with lace sleeves. “Try this one. With your hair, black is definitely the color you should wear.”

  I strip down to my thong and push-up bra, and wiggle into the tiny piece of spandex. Yanking on the bottom to pull it further down my thighs, I realize I’ll be spending my night trying to
remember not to flash everyone.

  “I don’t know, Casey. This seems a little indecent.”

  “Seriously? You have no trouble wearing a cropped shirt and jeans so low everyone knows you wax regularly, but a short dress is indecent?” She holds up a pair of purple pumps. “You wear size eight, right?”

  “Yeah. Great color.” I was thinking about wearing flats for ease of movement, but the heels will definitely make my legs appear more defined. The leather is cool when I slip them on my feet and I pause to take a look in the full-length mirror.

  “Damn it. I hate that you wear my clothes better than I do.” Casey plops on her bed with her phone.

  “No, I don’t. You carry yourself with elegance. I walk like I’m about to take someone down.”

  “It doesn’t seem to stop men from watching. Maybe they like thinking you could slam them down and straddle them at a moment’s notice.”

  “Cute. Real cute.” But I snicker at the thought of body-slamming Derrick onto the dance floor.

  A flash makes me turn toward Casey. She smirks at me. “Jason wanted to see you in a dress.” She taps her phone with her fingers to send the picture to him.

  “Tell him if he’s lucky I’ll even wear it out tonight.” Jason is Casey’s boyfriend, and we’ve been friends for a long time. No doubt he’ll tease me later, but I don’t really mind. I have no trouble giving it right back.

  “You look great in that. Do you like it? Or do you want to try more?”

  “Nope, this is good. You’ve worked your magic once again.” I twist to check out my ass, and decide it’s definitely going to make Derrick take notice.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Casey hops up from the bed. “Check this out.” She whips off her shirt and drops her shorts to put on a salmon-pink-colored dress. It has a low neck and cut-out sides. She cocks a hip and puts a hand on it. “So?”