June (Calendar Girl #6) (8 page)

She shook her hand. “Gosh, no. He’s so good to me. Pulled me right off the streets, set me up with a place to live, helped me get my GED then put me in college. Now I have a bachelor’s degree and work at Benoit Shipping Inc. our headquarters.” I nodded, once again unsurprised by her story. “I run all the new marketing campaigns. We share an office, play a little hide the pickle when we’re stressed, and then get back to it.”

Hide the pickle.

“Did you just say hide the pickle?”

She nodded without any concern for who heard our conversation. The phrase ‘an open book’ rang true with this one. “Yeah, when we get tired, bored, or you know, just want to fuck, he bends me over my desk or his, then fucks me stupid. He’s crazy good and makes me come harder than any partner I’ve had before. I think it’s because he, like, takes those little blue pills. Makes him rock hard all the time. I’m happy to oblige. And you want to know a secret?” The lovely thing was alight with energy and excitement.

A secret. From the woman who fucks a man almost old enough to be her grandfather, who uses the phrase hide the pickle, and has a ridiculously active sex life with an old guy…Yes, yes I do believe I wanted to know her secrets. I was certain they were going to blow me into next week.

Christine leaned close to my ear. “We’re expecting our first baby.”

You know that moment in the cartoon where Yosemite Sam blows his top and smoke comes out of his ears? I felt like that happened to me on hearing she was pregnant by a guy three times her age. It started with a buzzing sensation and the need to sit down. Once settled, she felt my head.

“You’re a little warm, Mia.” She offered looking absolutely concerned for my welfare.

“Maybe you can lead me to the rest room and we can chat there.” I needed to get this hot tamale alone. Her husband owned the shipping company Warren needed to transport goods to the UK. I took it upon myself to help make that happen. If befriending the pregnant wife was going to help, I’d take one for the team. Besides, she was really nice—if a little misguided.

***

“So you see, these vaccines and medicines are going to save countless lives.”

Christine gasped, her hand going over her still flat stomach. “My goodness. We have to help!” she said with conviction. I nodded.

“Well, maybe you could put in a good word for Warren with Frances?” I suggested thinking that was the best way.

She shook her head. “Oh no, I’m going to do better than that. She pulled out a cellphone from her purse, clicked a few buttons then held it up to her ear. “Franny Snookums…” she giggled. “Sure I’m always ready for your big cock, baby, you know that.” The thought of her getting plowed by the old guy made my mouth sour, the same way it does right before you vomit. “Oh I know snookums, I want it hard too. Real hard. So hard my teeth rattle, but I need to talk to you about something.”

I waited while she shared pretty much everything that I’d shared about Warren’s project and how they could help. “Yeah snookums, we’ll make it this year’s charitable contribution, and I can even run up a campaign about the good work we’re going to do with Shipley Inc.” She said another few “uh huhs” and “mmm hmms” then turned to the side. Her hand slid from her neck down to her breast where she cupped it boldly. “Yeah, they need to be squeezed. Thinking about you fucking me here, right now is making me super needy. Can you come down and lick me? The baby is making me so horny. I know you already fucked me twice today--” she sighed and then whined, “--but I need your mouth this time...” she practically jumped up and down and clapped. “Okay Franny, I’ll be in the ladies, wet and ready. Don’t keep me waiting or I’ll start playing without you.”

Then she snapped off the phone. Her chest was heaving. “We’re totally going to do the shipments for the Shipleys.” I wanted to jump up and down and celebrate but she started grabbing at her boobs in a brazenly wanton way. “You into threesomes?” she asked distractedly. “Franny loves when we add another one of my friends. Fucks us both really good, and I’m okay with sharing as long as it’s not in my marital bed. That’s just for us.”

I opened and closed my mouth almost as if I couldn’t catch my breath. I really couldn’t breathe. The images that were jumping all over each other as I tried to process what she’d said. Christine just propositioned me for a threesome with her husband. Her old, granddaddy-like husband in a ladies bathroom. I shook my head. “Um, nope but I’m really excited about telling my own uh, Daddy, about the Benoit’s involvement.”

“Cool.” And that’s when she put a finger to each strap of her already miniscule dress and let it drop to the floor standing in nothing but a tiny red thong. Absolutely
nothing
but a thong. What the fuck? I turned around to give her some privacy at the exact moment that old man Francis Benoit entered.

“You starting without me pumpkin?” he said, sizing his almost naked wife and me up.

“Can’t wait. Give me your cock, Daddy, I want to suck on it while you suck on me.”

“Girl, what have I told you about getting naked in public places,” he scolded, though he didn’t sound that upset. “I’m going to dock your allowance for this transgression.”

She groaned. “But I can’t help it. I need you.”

That was most definitely my cue. “Uh, I’m going to go and see my uh…Warren,” I said not being able to call him “Daddy” again. It just grossed me out.

When I was just at the threshold of the ladies room door I heard Christine sigh and moan. “Gonna ride you so hard, I love you Franny, I love you. Love fucking you.”

“Get on it pumpkin. That’s right; fuck me until you come hard enough to last until tonight. Jesus this pregnancy is going to kill me.” I heard her husband say, his Canadian accent thick and strong. If it was me, I’d definitely be worried about his health. The heart attack years were definitely upon him and if he was downing those blue pills with alcohol and tons of rough sex with a twenty-five year old, he definitely had something to worry about.

When I exited the bathroom, Warren was waiting for me. His eyes seemed troubled as I grabbed onto his wrist. “Let’s get far away from here.”

“Why? Francis said he wanted to talk to me about using his ships for the supplies I need to go to Mali.”

“I know, I set it all up with his wife. But they’re indisposed and if you go in there, they are going to invite you to join their little public sexy time.” I warned.

He cringed. “I see. We should wait for them at the bar then. You can tell me all about what was said. Shall we?” He held out his arm like the perfect gentleman. Definitely the way a grandfather would to his granddaughter and not his hot piece of ass. Classy guy. At least I got the good one. Though Francis didn’t seem half bad once I got past the fact that he’d married and impregnated a woman three times younger than he was. I shivered and Warren stopped, took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“Any time. Now tell me what happened.”

***

Apparently scoring the Canadian ships was a huge part of the go-live plan for Warren’s project. Together, we sat at the bar at the stuffy event and had drink after drink of incredibly expensive top shelf whiskey. Even Christine sat with us and sucked on her non-alcoholic drinks happily enjoying herself. I guess once the edge of her horniness was dulled, she really was a lot of fun.

At nearly two in the morning, James the driver had to hold both Warren and me up as we walked up the stone steps singing a ridiculous rendition of “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am” so loud that, when the foyer lights went on, we were both shocked. Kathleen leaned against a bannister, arms crossed over her chest, lips pinched tight.

“Good night?” she asked, her tone indecipherable.

Warren moved over to her with the quickness of a man half his age. He pulled her into his arms then pulled each hand out and started dancing with her. Swinging her from one side to the next, dipping her low. I clapped and swayed then grabbed a hold of James who took pity on me and twirled me around the foyer alongside Warren and Kathleen. The four of us danced for a bit until both of our dance partners led us up the stairs.

“Oh man, wait. Warren, buddy…don’t forget to tell Kathleen about that score!”

He laughed as I slumped into James. Without further comment, he lifted me into a fireman’s carry, my body a dead weight. I smacked his surprisingly firm ass. “Nice!” I said then remembered I still wanted to say something. “Wait...” I smacked his ass again, and he stopped laughing and tried to grab my hands. “...and tell her about the gross bathroom sex they had!”

Warren started laughing so hard he sat down in the middle of the floor. I wanted to go help him up but I was already upside down in my own predicament.

“Kathy honey, you’ll never guess what old man Benoit and his saucy little wife did!” he said.

She petted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it, but first we need to get you to bed.”

“You know I’d never share you, right?” he said seriously to her, and James started walking again. I smacked him hard on the ass again, and this time, he retaliated by doing the same to me.

“Will you stay still? You’re heavy enough as it is.”

I leaned up trying to get a glimpse of his face. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Hardly. But drunk off your ass you’re not light as a feather!” he quipped.

Like a child, a cross between a groan and a whine left my lips. “But they were getting to the best part. He was telling her he loves her.”

James shook his head and held me tight. Time seemed to fly as he took me to my room more quickly than I would have thought possible. Evaluating the passage of time wasn’t my strong suit in my inebriated state. “Everyone knows he loves Ms. Kathleen. He’s loved her for ages.”

“But the shrine,” I countered, my liquor-loosened lips flapping in the wind. 

“He didn’t know what to do with Ketty’s things. He thought maybe Aaron might take on a wife, kids, and want some of that stuff. Besides, he didn’t want to hurt his son. He’s more sentimental than he lets on.” James huffed, seeming almost put out. Regardless, the information definitely changed things. James flopped me onto the bed. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a tank and pajama pants and tossed them on the bed. “There’s your nightclothes. Please tell me you don’t need help.”

I gave a sexy smile. “You’re not offering?” I quirked my lips again, the whiskey making me stupid.

“Hell no. My wife would take strips off my ass and feed them to our dogs. After her brothers broke every bone in my body,” he laughed.

“Aww, you have a wife?” I asked and snuggled into my pillow.

“Yes, I have a wife, a very mean one who rocks my world. I’d never be unfaithful.” James unbuckled and pulled off my heels. “Cool tattoo by the way. Good thing the shoes didn’t rub it. Looks almost healed.”

“That’s good.” I said about his wife, not the tattoo. Then just like any drunk chick who’s lost her mind, I shared personal information that I wouldn’t normally share in different circumstances. “You know, I have a Wes.” I thought back to our sexting earlier in the week and my body got hot once more.

“You have a Wes,” he reiterated, his tone rife with amusement. “I’m guessing that’s a man.” He said with a laugh, handing me the bed clothes he’d laid out. More like smacking me in the face with them.

“He’s not really mine, but he’s more mine than anyone else’s.”

“I see. Sounds complicated.” Boy, he didn’t even know the half of it.

Finally, he helped me lean up. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He grumbled and helped me to the toilet where I spent the rest of the night vomiting violently. At some point, James left and Kathleen was there. Like aloe to a burn, she laid a cool washcloth over the back of my neck and soothed me with calm words and light caresses against my hair and spine. My knees ached from pressing into the tile for what felt like hours. I had no sense of time or space. All I knew was that I felt like death.

When the morning rolled around, I had a hangover the size of Texas. My robe hung off my shoulder precariously and I couldn’t be bothered to care. There seemed to be a construction worker jackhammering into my skull with every step I took. I reached the dining table and found that Warren didn’t look much better. For the first time, he wore a pair of men’s satin pajamas and not a suit. If I had been of sound mind, I would have cracked a joke, but all humor and wit had left me with the last bout of dry heaves. 

“You look like shit,” I said while assessing him through one eye. The other eye had a piercing nail ripping through my cornea every time the light touched it. Keeping it closed worked best.

Warren’s bloodshot eyes looked me over from the rumpled pj’s to the top of the rat’s nest that I once considered a great head of hair. Not now. Now I couldn’t even run a comb through it. When I tried, the strands felt as though tiny little hair gnomes were tugging on each strand individually trying to separate them from the root. It was a no-go zone until after I dumped a healthy dose of conditioner on it.

“Takes one to know one,” Warren grated through his teeth while placing a hand to his temples. “Christ, how much did we drink?”

“Um, I’m going to go with more than our fair share.”

Kathleen entered with plates loaded with bacon, sausage, and biscuits and gravy. This was the hangover food for any true drinking champion. I wanted to bow down and kiss her heel-clad feet.

“I so love you.” I looked at her like she was the second coming.

She petted my head like I was a faithful pet. “I know, dear. You told me several times last night while you promised you didn’t have a threesome with Warren, the Canadian, and...what was the last one…oh yes, the prego.”

Warren choked on his coffee, and I groaned. “Sorry about that. I was way over my limit. As in, at least five shots over the threshold.”

“You also kept talking about James.”

“Our driver?” Warren asked.

“Yes, dear. You said he was hot, nice, and had a mean wife who rocked his world.” Her lips turned up into that small smile I’d grown to love.