“You won’t hear me disagree,” I say.
“What are you drinking on? Can I get you another one?” Wrench asks.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” I offer up a smile.
He leads me through the crowd to one of the coolers. “Beer okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to stand in that line.” I glance over to the winding row of people waiting for a bartender. The sweetbutts could barely keep up with the demand.
He hands me a bottle.
I twist off the cap and we watch the bikini wearing girls scramble.
“Can’t say they aren’t earning their keep this weekend,” Wrench observes.
I snicker. “For once.”
Wrench grins.
I don’t have anything against sweetbutts. They have their place in the life. They provide relief, have fun doing it, and take care of the necessary shit no one else wants to, or has the time for. Like cooking and cleaning. I didn’t want to tidy up after a club full of men, so it always made sense to me. I also never had an old man to worry about. Of course, to me that was between the couple. Whatever rules they decide works for them was personal. I didn’t have a right to judge, it wasn’t how we did things.
“So, how’s Santa Monica treating you?” Wrench asks.
“Good. Been at the same gig for almost five years now, counseling kids if you can believe it.”
“No shit, a member of KOC telling the youth what to do with their life? That’s a first.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I like it though. Most kids still have that innocence about them. They think they can change the world, and there’s something fucking admirable about that.”
“Yeah, we don’t have a lot of non-jaded people around here,” Wrench agrees, immediately understanding. He is a legacy, born and bred in the club. He understands the crazy that automatically comes along with the title.
“Exactly. I miss home, though…the sounds, scents, and most of the people,” I admit.
“You got a raw deal sometimes. A lot of us hated that for you. But wasn’t our place to speak up,” Wrench says.
“Believe me, I get it. It’s why I left. My hands were tied, and my mouth was getting tired of staying shut. Figured it was best for everyone if I took a hiatus.”
“You thinking about coming back?” Wrench asks.
“I think I’m good with visits.”
“I don’t know. This is where you belong, girl. It’s in your blood same as mine. You can go away, but it’ll pull you back somehow.”
“Not just yet.”
Cracks echo in the distance. I lift my head and grin at the fireworks.
“Damn, they went all out,” Wrench points out.
The brilliant displays of red, green, blue, and white mesmerizes me. I was a small child, in awe. Craning our necks, we watch the show and continue to drink. Wrench was easy on the eyes, and great at conversation. The alcohol loosens my inhibitions as the stress and tension fade. The laughter was sweet, and his admiring gaze felt even better.
“Why don’t we take this some place more private?” Wrench asks.
I remember how long it’s been since I slept with someone. “Sounds good to me.” We move toward a quieter area, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling my body flush against him. My breasts get heavy, and my center pulses. I wrap my arms around him, tilting my head back.
His lips are soft, and he’s eager. He works me over slowly with his talented tongue.
He tastes like beer and man, a lethal combo in my book. I moan, and he deepens the kiss, grinding his hips into mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and toy with the short hair at his nape.