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Yet, the need resides in me to believe that the love that I’ve found with these men will help to shelter me when it gets rocky and so I find myself asking.
“Where will we go?”
Chapter 1
Julissa
TheBerkshires,NewEnglandwhere the largest buildings are small in comparison to commercial Las Vegas, and flashing lights are replaced with flowering plants painting the landscape like an art piece during the spring. Tiny churches and restaurants line the streets as well as displays of patriotism. And everything is so clean. It’s nothing like what I’m used to, to say the least. I knew two sides of Vegas; the glamorous which is glittered shit and where I grew up which was decorated in the dirt, graffiti, and broken-down awnings. The trees never looked like these. With bursts of white, pink, yellow, and red flowers all around. Nah, even our trees looked depressed, drooping, and gloomy.
“Katie, will ya stop daydreaming and go see what that customer wants?” my boss drags in a southern tone while wearing an apron and our ugly ass uniform, yelling at me from the kitchen.
They call me Katie here. I’m pretty used to dissociating and adapting to whatever character I’m supposed to be playing. It’s triggering though, I can’t help but jerk in response to the tone, the mention of “customer” and satisfying their needs. Ugh. It’s like I’m being pimped out here now as a waitress instead of a sex worker. I guess it’s better though, at least I’m being paid. Still, it’s not like I need this job. We still have that money we stole. Again, the job is just for performance purposes, to keep up a certain charade to blend in with the normals.
And I’m trying, I am. But it’s not so easy living with three men in a small town where no one minds their business. We’ve had to say we’re siblings. My lips upturn at the raucous thought as I find myself missing a particular “brother” right at this moment. I look at the clock and I have thirty minutes until lunch when I can bring Mikhail something sweet.
I tuck a piece of my unnatural red hair, behind my ears as I walk toward the customer with my notepad and pen all the while seeing the heads of the patrons turn, hearing their whispers as they take me in and try to guess what my deal is. I internally roll my eyes and try not to react to the hairs that are standing on my skin, the penetration of their eyes through my being. I head back to the counter and stick the note with the order under a clip near the chefs’ window when I turn around to find a young girl that seems familiar to me standing at the entrance to the restaurant.
I don’t know her. Never seen her before a day in my life but she looks like how I feel, the odd one out. She reminds me of a younger me. Looks about sixteen with a short skirt that’s been worn and looks like it’s about to rip with one more wash, a barely-there top, and flat boots that come up to her calves. She has a slight scratch on her face as if she got an itch too hard, sunburn on her nose and she’s a bit frail-looking, as though she hasn’t had a proper meal in a long time. Immediately my sensors go off and I can’t stop my feet from moving forward.
I say, “Hi, what can I get for you today?” in my trained professional voice, needing to speak to her, find out how she is. She jumps slightly as I approach her as if she didn’t expect anyone to.
She looks up at me through hollowed eyes and I connect with her pain there. She looks like a runaway although in the three months I’ve been here, I haven’t seen many. There’s a niggling feeling in my stomach that I push down and mark off as paranoia. I’ve been going to group therapy recently at a women’s center in the area to work through my trauma and I’ve learned about projection and self-sabotage; seeing in others what I’ve been through myself, assuming that’s their truth when it’s not. And finding things to get worked up about because I can’t allow myself to be happy since I don’t believe I deserve it.
So I take a deep breath and try not to assume too much about this young lady. Maybe her folks just don’t have enough money. It sounds silly to think especially from what I’ve seen but as I’ve said, in this small town, it’s really quiet, almost boring and everyone seems content. I suppose it could be darker but it doesn’t seem that way.
“Uh… um… can I have… um…” She pauses and starts going through her pockets, coming up with probably a dollar and some coins. My heart breaks because I’ve been there.
“Tell you what,” I offer her a smile that is the opposite of the forced smiles that I’ve given other customers today, this one comes from a need to make her feel comfortable. I lower my voice, “Choose anything on the menu and I’ll treat you to it.”
The girl is suspicious at first and I’m afraid she might refuse my offer but a hesitant smile appears as she nods and orders. After serving her order, I check the clock again to see that it’s lunchtime.
My heart picks up its pace and so does my pussy if I’m being honest as I grab Mikhail’s favorite sweet treat from the pastry section and head out to the mechanic shop where Mikhail, or may I say, “Noah,” his alias, works. It’s not far from the restaurant so it doesn’t take me long to hop on my bicycle and get there.
Bent over the engine of a car in light blue denim and tools in hand, he’s a far cry from the policeman he once was, yet there’s still something very uniform about him with his denim short-sleeved button-up with the shop’s logo on it tucked into his jeans and a black belt around his waist. His boss sits in a small office that overlooks the garage and there are not many more people working here.
I have to say, I’m not mad at this new Mikhail as I watch his muscles pulse while he works, car oil on his elbow. I walk up to him, treat in hand. My throat goes dry, thirsty for him.
“Got you your favorite slice of pie and something to eat,” I declare, showing him his sweet treat and both of our lunches.
He spins around quickly, knocking his head on the hood. “Ouch.” He rubs his hand through his hair that has grown longer now, almost touching his shoulders which he ties up to keep from falling into his face as he works. I enjoy running my fingers through the silky strands. His blue eyes are more piercing among the darkness of his full beard. Now my breaths leave me faster since this look is still very new to me and I get excited each time I see him. He looks like a completely different person and I’m longing to feel the scratch of his beard against my skin.
“Thanks.” He smiles at me and reaches out for the container that holds the pie.
I pull it away. “Uh uh, you have to earn it first,” my voice is a dead giveaway and his smile becomes knowing, his eyes playful. He looks around at his boss and back at me then chuckles.
He leans one hip against the front of the car, folding his arms over his chest, accentuating their hardness that much more. I can smell his cologne that he puts on every morning, giving me flashbacks to him in our bedroom, in underpants getting ready for the day, and me just taking in the view. It’s mixed with the dizzying scents of gasoline, exhaust, and motor oil. In the few minutes I have until I have to head back to work, I itch to feel him in my hands.
He looks me over from head to toe and I can feel each glance strip me from my clothes. Somehow, even in this obnoxious waitressing uniform I have to wear, which is not my style, he makes me feel like I’m the hottest woman he’s ever been with. His eyes linger on my lips and the thought of his lips against mine teases me before he slowly brings his eyes up to mine.
He speaks lower. “And what do I have to do to earn it?” I restrain myself from saying outright, “Fuck me”. I walk closer to him, not enough that I can get him in trouble with the boss but enough for me to feel the heat of our bodies mingle with each other, begging to collide.
“Depends on what you’re willing to do to get it.” I smile and he groans, glancing back at his boss again who seems to be busy with something else.
He takes my hand and we shuffle quickly out of sight as he takes me to a back room, filled with old machinery. As soon as the door closes, I throw my hands around his neck and he takes me by the waist, our mouths crash, and the softness of his lips and the roughness of his beard is maddening, hardening my nipples instantly. I whimper as I start unbuckling his belt and he massages my ass. He moves those lips and that fucking beard down to my neck and I reach for my underwear quickly, pulling them down before they’re soaked. That drives him crazy as he drops to his knees, burying his face underneath my skirt. I grab onto his hair to keep myself from falling and he rubs my ass, pulling me further into his face. I’m hunched over on top of his head, trying to keep myself from screaming when he moves up, moving quickly, grabbing my breasts and sucking my life out through my mouth before unzipping his pants and bending me over.
“Yes…” I cry and just as he’s about to bless me with his dick, I hear something that chills my bones, causing me to jump up in terror, pulling my underwear back up as my feet pull me forward and I strain to listen closely. This isn’t possible.
“Julissa?” I hear Mikhail’s pained voice and turn around to look at him. I must look like a deer in headlights or something because his face immediately changes too. He pulls his pants up without uttering a complaint and approaches me. “What is it? Is something wrong?” he asks, his face twisted in concern.
