Page 242 of Devil’s Disciples

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Saying nothing leaves a woman to believe she’s special. In her mind, the two of you are sharing something sacred. She’ll believe, unless you tell her otherwise, that she’s in a relationship with you. If you tell her upfront that you’re only wanting sex, it gives her an opportunity to decide if she wants to simply satisfy her urges. You owe it to every woman to let her know where she stands. Before you have sex.”

I nodded but didn’t respond.

“One more thing,” she said. “Don’t you dare tell a woman she’s special just to get in her pants. If I find out you’ve done such a thing, I’ll hit you in the head with your grandmother’s cast iron skillet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Porter?”

“Yes?”

She held my gaze. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Now, and forever,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I promise.”

She studied the piece of cookie she held. “There’s nothing that’ll break a woman’s heart quicker than believing she’s special, only to find out later that she’s been used for sex.”

“I promised, ma. It won’t happen.”

I assumed she was speaking of my father but didn’t ask. He was a subject we didn’t discuss. I’d always suspected he was one of the ranch hands that came and went, and that she never really knew him. I now wondered if he had misled her into believing she was special, only to leave her with every indication that she was nothing more than a one-night-stand.

“Ma,” I said, hoping to take her attention away from the cookie.

She looked up. I no longer questioned if she was speaking of the man who fathered me. Her wet eyes gave all the answers I needed.

“Yes?”

“I’ll be honest with them, I promise.” I glanced at my cookie and then met her teary-eyed gaze. “When can we go to the doctor?”

She chuckled as she wiped her eyes. “We’ll go on Monday.”

That Monday I found out I had Chlamydia. A dose of antibiotics cured it but left me forever fearful of having unprotected sex. From that day forward, I never had sex without using protection – or without first explaining to the woman that all we were doing was fucking.

My mother passed away the following year, but her words of wisdom were the fabric that held me together.

I blamed kissing Abby on my altered state of mind. The tumor had undoubtedly caused pressure to build on whatever portion of my brain produced logic. Consequently, it appeared I’d lost my ability to reason.

I was now forced to categorize her. She didn’t fit in the one-night-stand slot, but I struggled to admit it. Nonetheless, she didn’t belong there. That only left one place for her.

Placing her there scared the absolute shit out of me.

91

Abby

Much to my satisfaction, we got stuck in rush hour traffic. By the time we reached San Diego three hours later, I had my doubts that the tingling sensation in my clit would ever subside.

Porter proved me wrong.

He was seated across from me. On the floor in front of him were his boots. His eyes were glued to them. He’d been frozen in that exact position since we walked into the room ten minutes earlier. The magical moment we shared at the pie shop was being dwarfed by the awkward silence.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.