He muttered, “Yeah, yeah. All right,” then tossed the ball.
The silence was awkward. I hated that, especially with Harry. I had to fill the breach. “How’s your sister settling?”
His lip twitched. “She’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t need my help with anything. Says she’s an adult and lived without help for almost five years. In other words, she’s a total brat.”
I chuckled and lobbed the ball. “All the better for you then.”
His face turned somber. “I worry about her. I don’t like her being on her own. Not when she’s got Mom and me.” He held the ball a moment. “You know, she always was this fragile thing. She needed me and I helped her where I could. She didn’t have a lot of friends. She’d get freaked out around guys, and now that she’s finally come out of that shell, I don’t know. I sort of miss being needed.”
I caught the ball and uttered, “She knows you’re there. She’ll come to you when she needs help. Let the little bird fly.” Then I thought about cute, chubby Minnie and added hastily, “But not too far.”
Harry grinned and I returned it, knowing he’d been thinking the very same thing.
I said goodbye to Harry around one p.m. He told me to keep Monday night free. He was hosting a poker night, which almost always turned into go-fish night. I told him I’d be there.
Running sounded like a good idea. I didn’t have much time before that afternoon’s client, but had so much energy that if I didn’t burn the excess, I was likely to fuck my client through the floor. Not that I thought she would mind.
I ran from dock to dock, then turned around and went home. I was sweaty, hot, and bothered, but I was hoping my night with Belinda would be somewhat better than my night with Gina. In other words, I was hoping my cock would cooperate and actually come to the party. I was sure I would. Belinda was gorgeous and shy as a mouse.
It was always the shy ones you had to look out for. Once you got past the shyness, they were usually wild in the sack, as in nail-marks-and-blood-streaks-down-the-back wild.
On my way into the building, I heard a shaky, fragile voice call out, “M- Matthew! Oh, M-Matthew!”
I paused mid-jog and tracked down the source of the sound. When I saw her face, I broke out into a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Henderson. What can I do for you?”
The older woman’s hands and head shook almost violently. Her caregiver, Jenny, had told me she suffered from Parkinson’s disease, and even with her medication, the shakes would no longer stop, but it highly improved her speech. It made me wonder how she looked if she didn’t take her medication. The mental image was heartbreaking.
She attempted to smile, but it came across pained. “M-m-m-my faucet i-i-is leaking. W-w-would you mind?”
Jenny appeared behind Mrs. Henderson. “Hey, Matt. The doggone faucet is dripping again.” She blew the fallen strands of hair off her face and fluttered her lashes pleadingly. “You got a few minutes?”
I checked my watch and knew I didn’t have a lot of time to spare. But Mrs. Henderson was a nice lady and I hated to refuse her. “Sure. I got some time. Be back in a minute; I just gotta grab my tools.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, I flung open my apartment, snatched up my tools from the spare bedroom, and jogged back down the steps to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment.
Jenny was holding the door open for me, smiling. “Running around like you are is telling me you don’t have as much time as you claim.” I winked at her as I entered and she shook her head. “There’s no rush, Matt. You could’ve done this tomorrow. She wouldn’t have minded.”
Jenny was a tall, athletic, twenty-something who always wore ripped jeans and a tee. She had striking green eyes, long black-dyed hair, and a pierced septum. She was quite attractive. She was also very much a lesbian. I knew this, because leaving the building one night, I caught her making out with her girlfriend while being dropped off at Mrs. Henderson’s. If I hadn’t been in such a rush, I would’ve stopped and watched the entire show. It looked as though it was about to get hot and heavy.
“Why do tomorrow what I can do today, Jenny?”
She muttered, “Suck-ass,” and led me through to the leak. I grinned to myself in triumph.
She sat on the edge of the tub to watch me work. “Got a hot date tonight or something?”
“Or something,” I conceded then added teasingly, “but you know I only have eyes for you, Jen.”
She snorted a laugh. “You got the wrong equipment for me, lover.”
I shook my head dismally. “I know. That’s why I booked in for that procedure later this year. Then you can call me Matilda and we’ll live happily ever after.”
She opened her mouth to respond with a no doubt a saucy remark, when the sound of glass shattering followed by Mrs. Henderson’s, “Oh, dear,” followed. Jenny ran out of the bathroom.
I called out, “Everything okay?”
Jenny responded an amused, “Yep. Just a glass of juice Mrs. H thought looked better on the floor.”
Mrs. Henderson tried to sound affronted, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, J-Jenny. You’re t-terrible.”
I smiled at their continued banter and fixed the faucet. As I left, I looked down at my watch and breathed easy. I still had time to spare.
Belinda was a single mother from out of town. She was shy and sweet with a rocking body, a short, dark business-do, and soft brown eyes. She booked every three months. She had a daughter, Lillian, whom she’d given birth to young and somehow found the time to complete her degree and get a more than decent job in a Fortune 500 company. She travelled for work, which made it easy for her to make it to her quarterly appointment without detection.
I made it my business to know as much about my clients as possible. When possible. Funny thing about Belinda was that she could speak to crowds of a hundred without batting a lash. Put her in front of a man at a bar and she’d withdraw into herself.
With Belinda, every meeting was a first date. Every appointment, I could be a different man. It worked out great for me, because I could channel a different character depending on what mood I was in.
I dressed in dark fitted jeans and a grey shirt, slipped on a pair of Italian leather dress shoes, and then went downstairs to the bar to meet Belinda for our ‘blind date.’
Before I could sit, I saw her. She spotted me and smiled, walking over to me. I stood, waiting for her to approach. I don’t know how it happened, but as I went to greet her, a name I hadn’t planned to say came out of my mouth. “Maya?”
Belinda blinked in confusion a moment before smiling and shaking her head. She lifted her hand and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a shy smile. “Maya,” she uttered thoughtfully. Then, beaming up at me, she agreed, “Yes. I’m Maya. And you must be…” her nose wrinkled adorably, “…Nick.”
Oh, God. She thought I was role-playing. I had just been about to apologize, when I spotted Belinda’s approving smile. There was nothing I could do now. She seemed to enjoy the change of name. Quite frankly, so did I. That was that. I was officially a sick fuck.
I needed a drink. The easy smile I wore so often didn’t sit so well tonight, and even though I had left my top button undone, I felt as if I were suffocating. “Would you like a drink…Maya?”
Belinda squinted. She was pretty cute. “No, thanks. But I am starving.”
Thank God. I was glad for the directive. I took Belinda’s hand and tucked it into the crook of my elbow, muttering meaningless conversation as we walked to the hotel’s restaurant. Belinda smiled and responded just as meaninglessly as I had spoken, then I stood behind her and helped her into her seat, because I was a fucking gentleman and she was paying for that part of me.
We sat opposite each other and made small talk. We ordered the special. We ate the special. I drank far too much for a dinner occasion, and as we made our way to the elevator, I found myself tipsy and horny as hell.
I held Belinda’s hand tightly and pulled her close, reg
ardless of being the only two people in the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I slowly walked her into the corner of the small box. Placing a hand on her stomach, I bent lower to place my lips at her cheek. I closed my eyes and whispered a desperate plea, “Can I kiss you…Maya?”
Her reply came in the form of a soft sigh. I didn’t need time to think about what I was doing; it came naturally to me. I was a whore. This was what I did.
Pressing her into the corner, I kissed her cheek before turning slightly and capturing her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. I could feel Belinda’s shock. I would normally never be so bold, but tonight, Belinda wasn’t herself. She was Maya. And I was Nick.
Nick seemed to be one horny motherfucker, and so I went with it. Never mind being tipsy. Perhaps I was just using that as an excuse. Through her shock, I heard her moan. That was all it took to drive me on. I kissed Belinda like I had never kissed a client before. I kissed her as I wanted to kiss a woman, as I craved to kiss a woman. Unrestrained and wild.
Her tongue dipped out to lick the seam of my lips. My arms snaked around her waist and I pulled her into my body, groaning. I grinded my jean-clad erection into her stomach and reveled in her gasp. I needed to be inside of May—