Chase
I’m watching the sky from the shop as the last of the sun vanishes over the tree line.
“You want me to close up?” Tucker asks as he comes into the garage from the office. “You look like you’ve got a big date or something.”
“Who me?” I ask, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, you,” he chuckles. “You got that starstruck, lovey-dovey look in those big fuckin’ goofy eyes of yours.”
“Anyone ever slap you around before, Tucker?” I ask, uncrossing my arms. He keeps smiling, but takes a nervous step back.
“Hey, man. I trained in Jiu-Jitsu, all right?” he smirks. “I may be pretty, but I know how to move.”
Uh huh.
“Go home, Jackie Chan,” I tell him. “I’ll close up.”
“You’re the best, Chase,” he says happily. “I got a date in Thomaston. Single mom who has no idea how hot she is.”
“Don’t you get tired of it?” I ask him as he starts to walk off.
“Tired of what?” he asks, turning.
“Just girl after girl after girl. Night after night.”
Tucker looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re kiddin’? You think DiCaprio gets sick of drowning in model pussy? I tell you what, it wouldn’t hurt you to get a little somethin’ from time to time. Take the edge off.”
I shake my head and watch him go out to his car and pull away. I guess some guys are just built differently than others, because the idea of just rotating girls week to week, or day to day, just turns my stomach. I want one girl – the one.
And I’m about to go see her.
The image of her sweet, virgin cunt burns in my mind and I feel my cock pulse with a rush of blood. That’s twice I’ve had her in my hands and she’s denied me. All day I’ve been thinking about those hips, those legs, those tits – that perfectly smooth skin and the taste of her pussy juice on my tongue as she came all over my face, her thighs gripping my head as she moaned.
An arranged marriage, though? What kind of shit is that? I’m good at picking out bullshit when I hear it, but for some reason, I actually believe her. It certainly didn’t look like there was an ounce of chemistry between them. After all, her fiancé was on his phone in the parking lot instead of being inside with his future wife. If she was mine, I would be…
I grumble and slam my fist into my toolbox, glancing over at his Bentley. I still haven’t worked on it yet. If I fix it, then she’ll have no more reason to see me – no more reason to even stay in Greenville for all I know. And I can’t let her get away from me. I’ve had a taste, but now I need to devour the whole meal.
She told me this evening, but she never specified when. But the sun is down, and I’m through waiting. I put my tools away, close the garage door and get in my truck.
Do I know where Cherry Lane is? she asked me. What a joke. Everyone in Greenville knows Cherry Lane. It’s a private drive onto Robertson’s Lake, with more acreage than the rest of the lake houses combined. The last I heard, it was empty. I guess the city girl and her family bought it up for a fun little summer place or something.
For a brief second as I’m driving, I think about dressing up. Maybe the one good shirt I have left, now that Nicky took off with my other one last night. Or maybe stop in town and pick up a polo or something. But then I come to my senses.
I’m not going to pretend for her. She’s already used to rich pricks with suits and outfits that would be at home on a golf course. I’m going to be me. She’s getting what she’s getting, and she’s going to love it.
Like a Pavlovian response, my dick swells when I see the Cherry Lane sign. I smell the memory of her scent and take a deep breath, remembering the feel of her body against mine. My truck bumps as I come off the main road onto the private driveway. I’ve never actually been down here before, and have to laugh when I see the “lake house.”
It’s basically a mansion – you know, the kind you’d see on one of those shows about celebrities living in Beverly Hills. There’s a Rolls and a Porsche in the driveway. I park my old truck up beside them and get out.
This is fucking weird, I think as I take the steps. This isn’t my style. She isn’t my class. I’ve never put myself out like this before. But it doesn’t matter. Nicky is inside, and if this is what it takes for me to prove myself to her, then I’m going to do it.
I knock, and seconds later the door opens. But it’s not Nicky smiling at me, it’s Bradley looking at me like I’m fucking insane.
“Yes?” he asks, sounding like a fucking prince or something. “Can I help you?”
“Uh…” I don’t even know what to say. What the fuck is this? Did she forget I was coming or something?
“Yes?” he repeats. “Are you deaf or something?”