“Where did you…” My question was cut off by her short laugh, though it sounded more derisive than amused.
“I wasn’t hiding in the bushes, if that’s what you mean.”
She stepped forward and unlocked the car door. The dome light was just bright enough to let me see her fairly well, so I clicked off the penlight and picked up the slim jim.
“That’s not what I thought,” I told her, although I was beginning to wonder. “So you must be Anne Shaffer.”
“I must. Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk,” she said simply as she held the keys out to me.
Checking my watch before opening my hand, I couldn’t help voicing a question. “Do you really think that’s wise at two in the morning?”
Something short of a smile but not quite a smirk lifted the corners of her mouth. I made the mistake of noticing her lips. They were full, but naturally so, and came together in a perfectly shaped bow. The color was a darker shade of pink, perhaps made more so by her light complexion. The dim glow of the car interior reflected tired but not defeated eyes. I nearly forgot why I was there in the first place.
If Anne realized I’d been staring, she made no comment. Instead, she dropped the keys into my hand. They were warm, and the tips of her fingers grazed the skin of my palm. It felt electric and I closed my fist tightly around the keys, whether to prolong the sensation or dispel it, I wasn’t sure. I swallowed and spoke again, more harshly than I intended.
“You really shouldn’t be out walking by yourself at this hour. It isn’t safe. That’s just asking for trouble.”
Anne folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the car. “Not safe, you say? Meaning I might run into all kinds of unsavory people like muggers, car thieves, that sort of thing?”
The car-thief comment stung a little. “Look, I’m sorry,” I told her and immediately knew I had a problem. I never said I was sorry; you couldn’t let yourself get emotionally involved in any way and do this sort of job.
“No, I apologize. That wasn’t fair of me to say that. I’m just angry.” Anne pushed off the car and turned away from me.
“You have a right to be angry,” I told her. “I’m jackin’ your car.” It was a lame attempt at humor, but I was rewarded with a brief laugh from Anne. Turning around, she swiped a thumb beneath one eye and looked somewhere past my shoulder.
“You know, you live with somebody, you plan a life together, you buy a house and two cars. You pick out furniture and dishes. Then one day she tells you she loves somebody else and you’re left with extra sheets and more bills than you can pay.” Anne looked at me then with a mixture of defiance and a need for acceptance. “I decided the house payment was more important than the cars.”
I didn’t know what to say so I broke my cardinal rule again. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another—”
“Don’t.” Anne stopped me in mid-sentence. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides,” she flashed a genuine smile, “I defaulted on her car too because they were financed together. So if you’re coming after mine, that means someone will be repossessing hers.”
I held my breath, hoping my face didn’t give me away or that Anne didn’t connect the dots. Just like with poker, I had no such luck.
“Wait, are you also picking up a car registered to Kim Powell?” Anne took a step toward me as she asked the question.
Shaking my head, I pocketed the nearly forgotten keys and started walking down the street to get my truck and finish the job. “I can’t give out that kind of information,” I called back over my shoulder.
The sound of a car door slamming was followed by rapid footsteps on the pavement. It didn’t take Anne long to catch up with me.
“Look, I know this may seem crazy, but if you are towing Kim’s car I want to be there.”
We were almost to my truck, but that brought me up short. “Absolutely not.”
Anne wrapped slender fingers around my wrist, causing me to feel that strange electric current again. “Please, I need to do this. I’m just asking that you take hers first and let me watch. Childish, I know.”
I didn’t immediately answer and Anne interpreted my silence as a final refusal. Her hand slipped from my arm, but I could feel her eyes on me as I crossed to the passenger side of the truck.
“Get in.”
I faced Anne as I opened the door and waited. She approached slowly, as if she expected me to change my mind any second, jump in, and drive away.
“Thank you.”
The words brushed against my cheek as quickly and softly as her lips did. Before that I had been wondering how I lost control of the situation. After that fleeting kiss, I decided I didn’t care.
The trip across town was made with little passing traffic and even less conversation. About a block from my second repo address I cut the engine and coasted within site of the target house. The windows were all dark, just like at Anne’s, but I wasn’t taking any more chances. I was about to explain the rules to Anne when she turned mischievous eyes toward me.
“So what do we do first?”
“We,” I stressed the word, “don’t do anything. I unlock it, roll it into the street, hook it up, and drive away fast.”
“But surely there’s something I can do to help.” Anne sounded both frustrated and excited. In turn, I didn’t know if I should laugh or be worried.
“No. You do nothing but sit right here, understand?” I tried to make myself perfectly clear.
“What if I have the keys to this car too?” she baited.
“Do you?” I doubted it but couldn’t resist playing along.
Anne blew out an exasperated breath. “No,” she admitted. I grinned at her painfully honest answer.
“I don’t need them anyway.” I held up two bright new keys. “Masters from the dealership. I’ll be right back.”
As a repo artist, legally I couldn’t open a closed gate or garage or move another vehicle to get to a target. This particular job was classically simple, though. I had the door unlocked, the car in gear, and was rolling it backward into the street in well under a minute.
Turning the steering wheel with one hand, I noticed that the car had become easier to push. When I glanced back toward the hood, my suspicion was confirmed. Anne was there shoving with both hands.
“That’s enough,” I whispered loudly as I eased down on the brake, stopping the car. “Wait right here,” I tapped on the hood. “You are in so much trouble.”
Anne grinned, not looking the least bit contrite. “I think I like it,” she confessed, making me smile in return and blow my authority act.
I quickly started the truck and backed up to the car. Jumping out to set the winch, I didn’t see Anne anywhere. The hydraulics lifted the front end of the car as I scanned the street, then the yard for Anne.
“Holy shit.” I froze for a moment when I spotted her standing on the front steps of the house, ringing the doorbell.
A light flicked on in an upstairs window. I watched in disbelief as Anne pushed the button one more time, then sprinted down the sidewalk toward me. Another light came on downstairs, jarring me out of my stupor. I threw on the tow straps and boots, securing the car as fast as possible.
“We need to go now,” Anne needlessly informed me as the front door opened, revealing a very irate woman even from a distance.
“There you go with the we again.” I gave Anne a push into the cab and made a not-so-graceful slide into the driver’s seat. Chancing a look back at the house calmed me a little when I saw the woman still on the steps and not in hot pursuit. She must have been too stunned to give chase.
Pulling away from the curb, I glanced right just in time to see Anne roll down the window and lean half her body out, waving. Reaching over the seat, I grabbed the waistband of her jeans and tugged her back inside. She landed halfway over the console and partly in my lap.
Her face was flushed, her hair windblown, and she was smiling and trying hard not to laugh or maybe cry. Something t
hat sounded like a combination of both escaped her. Without thinking, I loosened my hold on her jeans and slid my arm around her waist, lifting her up a little.
“You okay there, trouble?” I asked as she sat perfectly still for a moment, then gave me a repentant look before dissolving into a fit of laughter. I could tell it was probably fifty percent induced by nerves and the rest a kind of catharsis. In any case, it was infectious and I joined in. It lasted exactly one block and then Anne moved back into the passenger seat and angled toward me.
“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I can’t remember when I’ve laughed like that,” she confessed. Some of the humor left her voice as she continued, “So how angry with me are you?”
“I didn’t leave you back there, did I?” Her expression was beyond priceless when the implications of that possible scenario sank in.
“It never even occurred to me…”
“Well, for the record it didn’t to me either, until just now,” I teased. “I’m not mad. You are definitely a hazard to my insurance policy, though.”
“I may be bad for your business but I’ll bet I’m good for your heart rate.” As soon as the words were out, Anne looked mortified. I tried not to laugh, especially since I realized there was a fair amount of truth to that statement. We were at her house by now, so I pulled over and turned the engine off. Adopting an innocent expression, I made no comment.
“That didn’t come out right,” she tried to explain.
“It’s all right; I know what you meant.” My tone was faintly disappointed and Anne didn’t miss it. She just gave me a curious stare and started to speak twice before finally getting anything out. Even then, she sounded as unsure as I felt.
“Do you want a Coke or some coffee…water…” Her voice trailed off, leaving me to imagine other options on the menu. Shaking my head, I declined.
“I really should go.” It was as much a statement to myself as Anne. It just didn’t sound very convincing to either of us.
Anne wouldn’t face me, but her words were clear. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“Coffee,” I blurted out.
I made the choice without thinking. Normally I didn’t even drink coffee, but nothing about the night had been normal so far.
“Coffee it is,” Anne said as she got out of the truck and headed for her house, not waiting to see if I’d follow but simply trusting that I would.
My eyes had to adjust to the lights in the living room as I entered the open door, closing it behind me. Anne was standing near a hallway, one hand on the wall and the other combing through amber hair. She started to enter what I assumed was the kitchen, then paused.
“Do you really want coffee?”
“Not really.” I had to give her credit for cutting to the chase.
Anne crossed the room and stood a few feet from me. “I’ve already asked a lot of you tonight. I don’t know why I think I have a right to ask for more. But it’s been a long time since I felt like anyone wanted to be here, with me. I just…just lie to me if you have to.”
She met my eyes, and there was no apology there, nothing but want and need and honesty. That took a hell of a lot of courage.
Slowly I closed the distance between us, stopping close enough that our thighs touched. Cupping her face with both hands, I feathered my thumbs over the delicate skin before I lowered my mouth to Anne’s. Neither one of us moved or breathed, just concentrated on the sensation of that connection.
Pulling back, I waited until Anne opened her eyes. “No lie,” I whispered, making sure she understood. “No lie,” I repeated before I kissed her again, rubbing my lips against that incredible softness before giving in to the need to taste the warmth beyond. Anne curled her arms around my neck, matching every stroke of my tongue.
My fingers trailed down her neck, brushing past the outside of each breast, and settled on her ass, nearly lifting her off the floor. Every squeeze brought an answering tug from fingers wound in my hair. Sometimes it was almost to the point of pain, but it only fueled my desire. I needed more.
A hurried inventory of the room convinced me the couch was a fine idea and much closer than a bedroom. I slowly backed with Anne in tow until I felt the cushions against my legs. As I lowered my body, I raised her sweater until her bare stomach was even with my mouth as I sat.
The small dimple of her navel was too inviting, tempting me to taste it before covering it with my lips. Anne’s stomach muscles fluttered away from the touch while her hips rocked forward. Small goose bumps appeared on her skin as warm breath traveled upward. Without my urging, she lifted the sweater over her head and tossed it on the floor. I held her hands when she would have unclasped her bra, preferring to do it myself. The satiny material slid down, revealing small, perfectly round breasts and deep pink nipples.
Sliding all the way against the back of the couch, I coaxed Anne to follow. Placing a knee on either side of my thighs, she braced her arms on the cushions behind me and leaned in. Both breasts were within easy reach of my tongue, teeth, and lips, and I took the invitation seriously. Whichever nipple wasn’t in my mouth was between the fingers of one hand while the other had wandered down to the bare skin above her waistband. Anne was too preoccupied to notice until I dipped lower, barely touching soft curls and then pulling out.
“Oh.”
It was one word, and I wasn’t sure what it meant so I repeated the motion and got the same response. Using both hands now, I opened the buttons of her jeans and touched damp silk before pushing past it to wet heat. Anne’s arms trembled and we both groaned as I used two fingers to trace along slick folds before pressing deeper. I closed my eyes and clenched my own legs together as I felt Anne contract tightly around my fingers.
Holding perfectly still, I waited until the warning spasms stopped, then eased slowly out and back in again. Anne’s back arched in time with my movements, so I let her set the pace. Hips rolling forward, breasts swaying, and the stroking of my hand reminded me of rhythmic waves on the ocean. It was at once hypnotic and beautiful to watch.
Anne’s rocking increased in speed as a thin sheen of perspiration painted the skin of her torso. I stretched my thumb out, touching her clit for the first time. Throwing her head back, Anne came down hard on my hand, forcing my fingers deeper still and grinding her center against my lap. My hand was trapped between us, but I didn’t care. The combination of Anne riding out her orgasm and the resulting friction was enough to throw my own painfully neglected clit into overdrive. Surging up to increase the pressure, I hit just the right spot and came as Anne’s arms finally gave way and she collapsed against me.
Several minutes passed before Anne’s breathing slowed and she raised her body enough to look at me. My arms were loosely wrapped around her back, stroking the now cool skin there.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“I was just thinking,” I answered, but didn’t give any more detail.
“About?” Anne prompted when it was obvious I wasn’t going to say more.
“About taking Kim’s car for a ride and hoping I get lucky.”
Anne narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if I was serious or not. Without warning she jumped off my lap and grabbed her sweater. Not bothering to find her bra, she yanked the shirt on and inched toward the door. “First one there gets to drive.” She already had her hand on the knob.
I didn’t rush to beat her, only reached in my jeans pocket and produced the keys. “First one there with the keys gets to drive,” I corrected her.
“Works for me.” Anne jingled her own set of keys and raced out the door.
Jumping off the couch, I ran after her. “You are in so much trouble,” I said out loud. The thing was, I meant myself, not Anne. But I kind of liked it.
Gigola
Claire Martin
Jen closed the door to the stateroom suite after hanging the privacy sign on the handle. She rested her forehead against the door for a moment and took a deep breath. She didn’t dread the next it
em on the evening’s agenda, but it had already been a long day and her work was not done. Such was her life as a gigola, currently on duty as the companion to Rosalind Humphries on board a lesbian cruise of the Greek Isles.
Roz was in her fifties, the owner of a successful advertising agency, a powerful woman with a full life. Her partner of thirty years had died two years earlier and Roz had no interest in trying to replace her. She simply craved a little uncomplicated companionship and a lot of sex. They’d met in person the previous month in Roz’s vintage row house in the Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago. Roz had explained over the phone that she wanted to review with Jen exactly what she was looking for in a companion and fill her in on the details of the proposed trip. Then they would both decide whether the arrangement suited them.
Jen arrived exactly on time, dressed in a black turtleneck, black jeans, and black cowboy boots. She carried the keys to her motorcycle, a slender wallet tucked into her back pocket, and a small satchel. She was just running her hands through her windblown hair when Roz opened the door and surveyed her with a look of surprise.
“I know it’s bad manners to stare, but I’m finding it hard to believe my luck. Please tell me you are Jen.”
“I am. Is it rude of me to stare back?”
Roz pulled Jen through the door. “Come on in and let’s be rude in private.” She led the way down a short hall toward the back of the house, coming into an area where several walls had been knocked down to form a large comfortable space with the kitchen as its focal point. Roz went straight to a bottle of wine to finish uncorking it and poured a glass of the cold white for Jen. Roz led Jen to an overstuffed couch on the other side of the room that looked out over the small backyard with a flagstone patio and flower beds.
Road Games Page 21