by L. B. Dunbar
“I just got off myself, listening to you.”
“You did?” Her surprised tone makes me chuckle.
“Absolutely, so let’s start there.” And I talk her through touching herself one more time.
8
Monday morning blues
[Midge]
I fidget as I wait inside the auto restoration office. Even with all the interactions Hank and I have had, I find we still don’t know much about each other. I’m assuming he got my number from the hotline. I’ve learned his work address from Lily at Because Cupcakes. It’s Monday morning, and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I came here.
I cleared off my desk on Thursday evening, said a few goodbyes to startled faces, and walked out the building I’d been going to for the past six years. The job had been a fresh start, like my marriage was supposed to be when we moved to California. But just like my ex-husband’s upcoming marriage, I find it’s time for me to move on, which brings me to thoughts of Hank.
God, what he did to me. Or rather, what I did to myself with the guidance of his voice. I’m the self-proclaimed poster child of: Yes, indeed, you can get off from the smoky tone of a man. I giggle with the thought, but nerves hit me as I can see a young man speaking with someone who looks strangely similar to Hank with sharp white hair. His face is peppered with light scruff, contrasting with the starkness of his head as tufts of black fall among the silver on his jaw. He looks in my direction, and I turn my head. Maybe I’ve made a mistake.
“Hank,” I hear shouted through the glass panes and over the machinery. I peer down at myself. I’m dressed for work—heels, skirt, casual shirt—but I had nowhere to go and something I wanted to say in person. Fiddling with the cellophane topped box in my hands, I look down at the confection.
“What the hell?” a voice barks just outside the door, and my heart drops to my stomach. The office door flings open, and a big body fills the space.
“Midge?”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why those are the first words out of my mouth. Suddenly, I’m so sorry I’m here, tears prick my eyes. I turn to set the single cupcake box on the desk, determined to leave it, and go.
“Midge, I…what are you doing here?” I spin back to face him, but his eyes avert mine. He’s scrubbing his hair, making the short pieces stand upright as he looks out the office window. Two heads turn away the second I glance out the glass. Hank steps over to the blinds and roughly drags a hand down the vinyl slats. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I’ll just go.” I step forward, but he steps toward me, holding two grease covered hands up in my direction.
“No, just…I’m a little surprised.”
“Not a good surprise.” I shrug, swallowing hard. There would be nothing worse than bursting into waterworks before him, so I have to get out of here.
“No, little lady, an amazing surprise.” My head shoots up, and his curling lips reward me. I smile slowly in return, memories of the other night seeping into my head. “You just caught me off guard.” He steps for the desk, reaching around me for a cloth, and begins rubbing his fingers with it. His motions slow as he sees the pink box on the flat surface.
“Did you bring me a cupcake?” His eyes jump to mine.
“I wanted to thank you. For listening to me the other night.” He blinks, the removal of grease from his fingers stalled. He stares at me.
“You went to Because Cupcakes?” He peeks to my right. “And got me the double chocolate, chocolate chip with light chocolate, colored purple, frosting cupcake. My favorite.”
“Well, Lily said—” I stop short when his eyes hit mine again. Steel shimmers silver as they pinch at me.
“Is that how you found me?”
“Are you hiding?” I snap, uncertain where the directness came from. Shaking his head, he laughs, a deep rumble of a chuckle that jostles his whole body.
“Fuck no, I’m not hiding. I just… Why didn’t you call me to ask me where I am?” Good question and one I can’t exactly answer. One reason being because I wanted to surprise him. Two, because I wasn’t sure he’d want to see me. I mean, I did sort of use his voice to get off the other night. When I nearly collapsed after the second time, he talked me into stepping out of the tub and slipping into bed. Too tired to argue, I followed his directions. He wished me a good night, and I fell asleep with his voice echoing in my head. Maybe there’s a number three. I’m uncertain if I could use his number. Dating, or whatever we are doing, is new to me.
“I don’t know.” It’s the only honest answer I have.
“You look pretty,” he says, and I look down at myself again.
“Old habits die hard. I didn’t know what to do with myself today. I guess I need a new job.”
“Know anything about cars?” He chuckles.
“Nothing. If my car didn’t ding to remind me to fill the gas tank, I’d be at a loss.”
“Modern cars.” He scoffs, continuing to rub his fingers. I watch the pattern he forms, stroking up one and around the tip, dipping between two, and then curling around another. Strangely sensual, I’m focusing on his fingers for too long before my eyes lift to find him smiling at me. I swallow from the intensity.
“What do you do here?” I nod toward the closed window. The office is dim with no outside light.
“We restore and maintain classic cars. It was my father’s dream, his business. Now Brut, my older brother, owns it, and I work for him.” His tone saddens.
“Is this what you’ve always done?” Something tells me it’s not his dream.
“No.” The abruptness of his answer startles me, and he looks away again. Although I’m curious, his hesitation tells me not to pry. But I want to know things about this man. He finishes rubbing his hands and tosses the rag on the desk behind me. Stepping closer, I back up and bump into the desk at my back.
“You wanted to thank me, huh?” His voice returns to a playful tone. “What did I do to deserve your gratitude?” His lips curl, and those eyes sparkle. He’s teasing me. He takes a step forward and my hands brace on the edge of the surface. Another step and I’m gripping the desk, desperate for an anchor or I’m going to launch myself at this man. He smells of oil and man and something spicy, and I want his fragrance on me.
“The other night, you…” I can’t spell this out. The words jumble in my head. I want to tell him he distracted me in the most pleasant way and thank him for being so kind and supportive.
“The other night I wasn’t nearly close enough.” His hands cup my cheeks, overwhelming me with the smell of oil until his head dips and he kisses me. I like him kissing me. His mouth takes its time, savoring the corners and the curves. His tongue follows quickly, and I groan as it tangles with mine. “I don’t want to get your pretty clothes all dirty. Hop up on the desk for me.” He leans around me and brushes back the stack of papers. “Damn, Brut. He’s such a slob.”
I press up on the desk, his nearness forcing me back. Suddenly, Hank drops to his knees, bringing his thick hands to cover my kneecaps.
“You wearing undies?” His question should shock me, but instead, dampness pools and my thighs tingle. Before I can answer, he demands, “Take them off.”
I don’t know why I jump when this man says jump, but I’m instantly turned on and so needy for where I hope this goes that I’m ready to ask how high? the next time he commands I leap.
I scrunch up my skirt and wiggle down my underwear. Hank takes it from me and brings it to his nose. The contrast of his dirty fingers around my white panties is a direct shot up my middle. Fireworks explode inside me, and my legs spread of their own volition. I want him. The smell of my arousal is all over the cotton cupped at his nose. Thick palms drag up my thighs, separating me farther. My hands fall back on the desk. I’ve never been taken on a desk before, and the possibility thrills me.
His hands tug me forward to balance precariously on the edge of the flat surface.
“I can’t put my dirty hands on you.”
I whimper at the thought. He’s being conscious of the chemicals on his skin and not mixing them with my sensitive parts, but dammit, I almost don’t care.
“Other parts could touch me.” The boldness I find around this man startles me, but I don’t back down. He brings it out in me somehow. Softly, he chuckles.
“The first time I take you isn’t gonna be on some damn dirty desk, little lady. That’s not the type of woman you are.” While the words are sweet, I’m slightly cross. Why am I not worthy of a desk fuck? The snap of the cupcake package draws my attention away from this thought. I watch as Hank gingerly picks up the delicacy with fingers touching only the wrapping. I’m expecting him to leave me hanging here with my legs spread, my privates pointed at him, and my ego waning. Instead, he dips his head, kissing up the inside of my thigh while he balances the cupcake off to my right. His mouth is heaven, sucking at my inner leg and nipping on my skin. The stubble on his jaw tickles like I imagined it might, and it spurs me to spread my legs farther.
“You brought me a cupcake.” He blows on my sex, and I squirm on the desk. Pulling back, he tips the cupcake between my legs. I’m too shocked to wiggle away when the cool icing suddenly coats between my thighs. “So sweet,” he says, setting the dessert back on the desk, then gripping my knees and diving back between my thighs. His mouth hits me with a force which buckles my elbows, and I fall back on the desk. His big tongue flattens, spreading icing over me, but at the same time, he laps and licks, swirling the creamy treat over his tongue and moaning while he devours me. My eyes roll back at the sight of his head bobbing between my legs. Prickles of light flash before me. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
My knees quiver, and his heavy palms steady me. The orgasm races from my toes, rippling up my legs and crashing into me. My knees clench around his ears as my body jackknifes forward. My hand covers the back of his head, holding him to me a second while I fall into the strongest release I’ve ever had. Seconds later, I collapse back onto the desk. My hands catch me as my legs dangle, limp and languid. I don’t trust myself to stand.
Hank pulls back, and I have to giggle. A trace of light purple frosting remains on his chin, mixed with the silver and ink of his scruff.
“You’ve got something…” My voice trails as I reach forward, and he covers my finger with his lips, sucking on it, causing tingles to return. I don’t want to be selfish like the other night, though. I came here to thank him.
Hank stands slowly, his knees cracking from the hard surface beneath them.
“Let me get something to clean you up.” He’s holding my knees while he speaks, and I curl my fingers into his waistband, tugging him toward me. He questions me as I work his belt. “Midge?”
“Let me return the favor.”
“Not here, baby,” he mutters. I’m not a pouting woman, but my lower lip projects as I don’t give up. My fingers quickly unbuckle him and unclasp the hook of his work pants. His fingers dig into my knees, and I know he wants me to continue even though he said otherwise. I have the zipper down and my hand inside his pants, massaging him over his boxers, when my breath hitches.
“Hank. You’re huge.” I’m not kidding. He’s thick, rock solid, and long. Really long. He chuckles at my enthusiasm.
“Well, those are words every man longs to hear.” Who would tell him otherwise? A Greek god would have nothing on what I’m cupping. I tug gently before sneaking my fingers over the waistband of his forest green boxer briefs. He’s hot, throbbing, and stiff, and my mind flashes to visions of him filling me. His mouth distracts me as he kisses me aggressively, capturing my lips and tugging at them. I’m almost falling backward, but I’m not giving in to the pleasure of his mouth. I push back at his shoulders until he’s upright and then I slither to the floor before him.
“Middy?” He chokes, hesitant but eager.
“Where’s that cupcake?” I twist for the damaged delicacy, swipe a finger through the icing, and coat his warm dick with the cool treat.
“Fuck,” Hank growls, but my focus covers his large crown, sucking at the mushroom shape while sampling the icing running down the length. I release him with a pop and lick along the ridges, lapping up the sticky sweetness before returning to the tip. There’s no way he’ll fit, but I’m giving it my best shot to bring him to his knees. I want him to want me like I want him. So much wanting…
My jaw tightens as his hand slips into my hair, gentle but firm. One of my hands circles the base of him, squeezing as my other fingers tickle the trail of hair leading to this prize. I’m practically slurping when his hips rock forward.
“Little lady…baby…” He rocks again, hitting the back of my throat. I’m determined not to give up. He’s warning me, but I want this from him. “Lady, fuck it.” He’s pulsing against my tongue, liquid slipping down my throat, and I smile around him. Slowing, I hold him inside my mouth until he mutters, “Enough.”
I pull back, releasing him as a dribble falls from my lips. It isn’t pretty. However, he’s spent, bending over me to hold the desk behind me, and I’m so pleased.
“I don’t think I can move,” he teases. His soft chuckle thrills me, and I press a kiss to the tip of him. He hisses. “No more, baby.”
Holding out his hand, he helps me stand, and I tug at my skirt that’s still riding up my thighs.
Suddenly, Hank releases my hand like I’m scorching him. His demeanor shifts and he won’t look at me, despite the faltering smile on my face. I brush at my knees to avoid the awkwardness.
“I’ll be right back.” He’s straightening his pants but heads for a door behind the desk. Hearing water run, I assume it’s a bathroom. I realize I can’t find my underwear, and instantly, I’m embarrassed by my behavior. What was I thinking? I hate how I feel almost ashamed. My heart races, and I mentally say fuck the panties. I’m reaching for my purse when Hank exits the bathroom with a damp cloth in his hands. His eyes shift from my purse to my eyes.
“I thought you might like to wipe off.” I’m too humiliated to accept his offering, knowing there’s no way I can lift my skirt again in front of this man. I don’t even want to go into the bathroom. I just want to walk off my shame and get out of here. I shake my head to ward off his offer.
His shoulders fall, and he tosses the cloth toward the bathroom.
“What happened here?” His voice hardens, and while I’m not afraid of his size, this tone frightens me.
“I came here to thank you. I wasn’t expecting anything else. I guess I…I guess I went too far.” With two powerful steps, Hank is before me. He grips my shoulders, forcing me to look up at him.
“Why would you say that?”
I shrug. I don’t know how to answer him. Something changed. I can’t put my finger on it, but he seems displeased. Maybe I sucked, no pun intended.
“I…” I almost apologize, but I’m tired of saying sorry for no reason. I’m not sorry. I just experienced the best oral sex of my life, and I put everything into giving him head. I’m just going to take my memory and leave.
“Cupcake, I don’t know where your thoughts are going, but that”—he points at the desk, disheveled by pushed back papers—“was fucking hot as hell. I thought we were good, so why are you about to run off?”
“You don’t seem pleased. I didn’t mean to take advantage of anything.” He laughs, full-on belly rumbling if his rock hard abs could move. “Don’t laugh at me,” I snap.
Hands cup my cheeks and I’m tugged upward as his head lowers. His mouth crashes against mine again, smothering me with his lips. He’s kissing the life out of me, literally. His lips work mine—nipping, sucking, dragging—until I relax under this attention. He pulls back but holds my face, keeping his close.
“I’m not laughing at you. I just told you how fucking hot I thought that was. You…little lady, you’re something.” He kisses the tip of my nose as he stands to his full height, and I feel only slightly better. “Go out with me.”
“On a date?” I ch
oke. Of course, he means a date. What am I saying?
“Yes, a date.” He bites the corner of his lip, holding back more laughter. “A real date. Let’s get to know one another.”
A slow smile cracks my face. “I think we’re doing okay.”
His silver eyes lose some of their glimmer and I don’t know what I’ve said. “That all you want from me?” His head tips toward the desk, implying what we just did.
My cheeks fall. He looks hurt and my heart pinches. “No,” I assure. “No, absolutely not.”
“Okay.” He nods, but a bit of playfulness disappears. “How about Friday? I’ll pick you up at six thirty?”
9
Date night
[Hank]
Midge’s house is in the San Gabriel area, which is a far cry from our Pasadena shop even though the burbs are near one another. The two-story, yellow-sided home with a bay window looks like something out of a movie. Its petite size fits Midge, but the sunny color doesn’t fool me. Midge is a complicated woman on the verge of a sexual rebirth yet struggling with her confidence. I recognize this because she’s exactly like me.
After what we did in Brut’s office, we sort of fell apart. My mind caught up with me. Thoughts of Kit clouded my judgment and dulled my immediate reaction to the powerful orgasm this little lady gave me. Images of Kit flipped through my mind—her pleasure in bringing me to my knees, knowing I’d give her whatever she wanted once she got what she wanted from me. The memory momentarily steamrolled the moment with Midge. I needed a minute to get my head straight, and I lost Midge in the meantime.
To make it up to her, I ask her out on a date that’s over the top for me, taking the advice of my twenty-one-year-old nephew. Watershed Rice is one of the fanciest Thai restaurants in the city, and I dress in my old suit, hoping to impress Midge. She isn’t some rocker chick; she’s a lady. Standing in my office with her fuck-me pumps, a tight red skirt, and an innocent white shirt, she looked like a piece of candy, and I wanted to lick her all over. However, the grease on my hands is a reminder that I’m well under her league. At one point in my life, I might not have given someone like Midge a thought, but now, she’s all I think about. I’m not being a snob; I just mean Midge is too clean for who I once was.