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“See you tomorrow.” I rush past him and turn toward the bus stop. A stealth escape is needed because in another minute, I’ll be begging him to take me inside and show me how some of those toys are used. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex of any kind. A year since Jake The Jerk took off with his hippie queen and my bullet vibrator. I tap the side of my bag where The Stimulator is tucked safe and sound. Tonight my neighbors can stick it.
He runs up beside me smiling and smelling like cinnamon and spice. “You need a ride?”
“No, thank you. I don’t have far to go. I’m in the Mission District.”
“The Mission District?” His face falls into a frown. “I’m giving you a ride.”
He threads his arm through mine and swings me around toward the underground garage.
“I make it home safely every day.” I’m not telling him that at times my safety is questionable, but it always seems work out. Besides, after my first paycheck, I can afford to move.
“Humor me, I’d feel better. The Mission District can be rough.” He guides me down the first row of cars and the lights flash on a 5 Series BMW. The man probably pays more for his car a month than I spend in groceries, and his parking bill no doubt surpasses my rent.
Caine opens the passenger side door and helps me inside. It surprises me because most men didn’t do that any more. I believe in equal rights, equal pay, equal orgasms, but I still like to have my door opened and my chair pulled out. That doesn’t make me less of a feminist.
While he runs to the driver’s side I check out the interior. Clean and smelling like leather and him. He’s a chai latte with the body of a god.
He opens the door and folds his long body into the drivers seat. “Where to?” With a push of a button, the car purrs to life and he pulls out of the garage.
“Nineteenth and Lexington.”
His brows knit together and his mouth twists into a grimace. “Why are you living there?”
“It’s a long story, but the short answer is it’s affordable.” I relaxed into the soft leather seat. “It was the only place I could afford that didn’t have the chalk outlines of bodies on the floor.” I suppress a laugh.
“You’re kidding right?” He gives me a quick glance then focuses back on the road.
“Yes, I’m kidding. I used to live in the Haight-Ashbury District until my boyfriend ditched me for another woman.”
He turns onto Nineteenth Street and inches forward past the kids playing kickball in the center of the road. Their eyes glean on to the shiny black car with the chrome wheels.
“Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot. It’s obvious you’re a catch.” As we near Lexington, he slows to a near crawl. “My girlfriend ditched me for a guy in the Haight-Ashbury district. She wanted a free wheeling lifestyle.”
“She must be an idiot.” I repeat his statement about Jake. “You are obviously quite a catch.” I tuck my purse close to my body. “This is me.” I point to the tattered façade of my apartment. Much to my embarrassment, one of the pimp’s girls stands in the doorway pulling up her worn thigh high stockings. She eyes Caine and adjusts her boobs so they nearly spill out of her low-cut T-shirt. “You might want to hurry before she tries to make you her next trick.”
“Please tell me you don’t live here.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” I open my door and climb out, then turn around and look at my boss’ shocked expression. “Thanks for the ride.” I close the door and dash past the hooker, jump over the drunk passed out in the hallway, and run up a flight of stairs to my place.
The first thing I do when I get inside is find The Stimulator and head to my room. After a day of dicks and debauchery, I’m in need of a release.
I close my eyes and think about all the sexy men I’d try if given a chance. Men like Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper and Jason Mamoa, but none of them are getting me in the mood, so I let my mind wander while I turn on The Stimulator and let it do exactly as it’s supposed to—stimulate. Back in the zone, the face that appears in my mind is Caine’s, with his strong jaw, a shadow of five o’clock scruff, and his dark-as-sin eyes.
I tune out the sound of the game show coming from the floor above me and focus on my memory of Caine’s smile. The warmth of his hands. The velvet of his voice. The shape of his ass.
Just as I’m nearing the edge, a familiar pounding from above mixed with a cackling bronchial voice yells, “Quiet down in there. I’m trying to watch “Wheel of Fortune” and that buzz is making my brain hurt.”
My approaching release plummets to the scarred linoleum floor along with the stimulator. There will be no relief tonight.
Four
Caine
“What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself as I sit outside of Janey’s apartment waiting for her to show. My eyes are bloodshot and my brain is foggy. This time I can’t blame it on the jet lag. I have to blame it on Janey, who haunted my dreams all night. After I dropped her off, I fought the urge to race back and pick her up. The woman lives in the hood, and that doesn’t sit right with me.
I tap my fingers on the dashboard and count the seconds until I see her again. In the cup holder is a coffee just for her. She takes a splash of cream and one sugar, which I learned after watching her doctor up her coffee at Tupelo’s.
Up the block, the lady in holy thigh-highs drags her tired body back toward the entrance of Janey’s building until she sees me. She walks toward my car with her hips swinging and leans on my door motioning for me to roll down my window. I open it a crack.
