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“It’ll be nice having you around,” he said, grinning wide to reveal several yellowed teeth.
Then he winked at me so fast I know Carter missed it. But I didn’t. And that was the whole point, right? To be a subtle perv, just clever enough not to get caught.
I kept my mouth shut, though. This was Carter’s gig, and I wasn’t going to mess it up, especially because it seemed like it may well be one of the only businesses in Rough and Ready. Getting your host fired isn’t much of a way to repay them.
“I’m gonna start working on your car,” Carter told me. “Well, Henry and I are. You can take a seat anywhere.”
Carter and Henry scooted to my vehicle — if you could really call it at that at this point — and Big Bob stayed glued to my side.
“You want a chair?” he asked, with Carter safely out of earshot. “I can get you a chair. It’s called my lap.”
I grimaced, and ignored his awful fucking joke. “I’ll take a regular chair, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
He gestured angrily to a basic, no-nonsense chair in the corner of the garage.
“Thanks.”
“You Carter’s girl or something?” he asked, eyes squinting at me.
“I’m his guest. He’s housing me and my friend while my car gets fixed up.”
Big Bob licked his lips. “You coulda stayed with me. Still can, if you want. I could make all the arrangements with Carter.”
“I’ll pass.”
“You’re a buzzkill, you know that?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jesus, what was this dude’s problem? I’d rejected his gross advances about as nicely as possible. Couldn’t he just leave me alone?
I strode over to my chair, and defiantly plopped down in the seat, crossed my legs so tight you couldn’t get them apart with a crowbar.
Big Bob stood watching me. It took all my effort not to watch him back. That’d give the old man an excuse to make conversation or in his case, make remarks that set my teeth on edge. As a woman, you become practiced in this art — the art of ignoring what’s going on around you in order to, ironically, stay safe. Keep your head down, your eyes fixed on some distant object, and he’ll walk away. Go through life without looking.
Carter and Henry, meanwhile, were at the hood of my car, jacking it up and sliding a moving board beneath.
“Okay, we’re opening her up again!” Carter called out.
“Cool,” I shouted back from the sidelines.
They popped the hood together, Henry’s hand on the switch, Carter guiding it all the way.
“How’s it look?” I asked, my voice reverberating off the high ceilings.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to spruce a few things up,” he replied. “Wanna come learn about your car?”
Well, it’s not like I had much else to do. It was either learn about the car or try to steer clear of Big Bob’s leering presence. As you might have guessed, I chose to learn about the car, my repair inabilities be damned.
I walked over to the car, feeling Big Bob’s eyes on my thighs the whole time. I’d worn the dress for Carter, if we’re being frank, but now I regretted that choice.
“Okay, what’s the damage?”
“Well,” Carter began, before abruptly cutting himself off. “I can show you what’s going on beneath the car, with this hose that’s become disconnected. But you’re gonna have to put on a jumpsuit. I’d feel like a real criminal if I let you ruin that dress.”
I laughed, and he directed me over to a hook where a denim jumpsuit with the name “Carter” embroidered on the left breast pocket hung in apparent disuse.
“Why don’t you have this on?” I called out as I slipped the jumpsuit over my dress.
“Oh, I don’t mind gettin’ a little dirty.”
What a charmer. Jumpsuit firmly zipped, I returned to the car, where Henry was peeking into the hood while Carter was easing himself down onto the rolling board.
“Henry,” he instructed the boy as I neared, “be a good boy and fetch Phoebe a board.”
Henry nodded and ran off.
“He’s pretty obedient for a six year old,” I noted, looking down at Carter from above.
“I’m good at making people behave.”
Okay, that made a lump rise in my throat. For somebody who’d pretty much rejected my advances, he was being awfully loose with his words. I wanted to be mad, but more than anything, I was turned on. I thought back to my two separate masturbation sessions yesterday, and wished I’d squeezed in a third one. Maybe then I’d have more control over my urges.
With Carter below me, I felt a weird power exchange. He was vulnerable beneath me, yes, but by laying down, he’d also knowingly seceded some domination to me, and that in itself was a power move. Ugh, sexual dynamics are complicated. Let me put it more bluntly — I still wanted to bone that stupid, closed off, tight lipped, hot ass motherfucker.
