Shakin' It For Daddy (The Panty Droppers) (2 page)

Degan yanked his head from the locker and turned in the direction Preston was jutting his chin. There she was—the new girl. She had smooth looking, chocolate skin with an ass that made his mouth water. The jeans she wore clung to her thighs, expanded over her hips and hugged her waist. The top was even better. It showed off just enough cleavage to make him wonder, but not enough to give it all away. She was peering pensively at a paper in her hand, and then looking up at the doors.

She was lost.

Before he could move to help her, Archie Salmon, notorious for the chess club and Glee Squad, was already by her side speaking to her. The smile she gave Archie caused jealousy to throb through Degan’s every pore, his very soul. He wanted that beauty for himself.

“Damn she’s hot!” Preston exclaimed.

His chiming Blackberry yanked him from the memory to face it. His cock was pulsating and Degan could have sworn his pants had gotten smaller around that area. Even after so many years, Mika Jamison still had that effect on him. Rubbing a hand over the bulge in the front of his pants, a shiver danced through him at the sensation of any little friction against the tenderness of his aroused dick. His heart hammered inside his chest and his eyes rolled into his head. There was no one to relieve what he was feeling and he’d purposely left it that way. Dating had been something of a chore over the years and he’d only gotten close to marriage once. Then one night, they were going at it hot and heavy. He had Marrisa’s pussy in his mouth and growled another woman’s name—Mika’s. The ring he’d given Marrisa went flying at his head as she dragged her suitcase after her and out the door. Degan didn’t run after her—he didn’t fight it. He stood there and let Marrisa go.

He thought he’d loved Marrisa, he really did. He didn’t mean to hurt her in any way, but it happened. Sometimes he would lay in bed, alone at nights thinking that Mika had cursed him somehow. Though she’d never said one word to him, or him to her, he felt her image and his yearning for her had somehow cock-blocked him for the rest of his life.

Degan swerved in his chair, took a deep breath and picked up the black object. He activated the screen and stared at it.

Reminder: Conference call with Matsumodo in ten minutes.

Swearing softly beneath his breath and dropping the Blackberry into his pocket, Degan grabbed his laptop and briefcase and exited his office.

* * * *

The meeting with Matsumodo, though brief, had been fruitful and soon he was on his way home. Though he was fairly certain Preston had told him where he was going, Degan couldn’t remember what he ate for breakfast much less the latest where-abouts of his globe-trotting friend.

“Call Preston,” he said out loud.

“Calling, Preston.” The device responded.

The phone rang and for a moment Degan thought no one would answer. Finally, Preston’s voice came over the line.

“Where are you this time?” Degan questioned with a laugh.

“I told you.” Preston chuckled. “Australia.”

“I’m not going to ask what you’re jumping off or out of, but I needed to talk to someone and you’re the closest I got.”

Preston laughed. “Shoot man! Go ahead. What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Mika.”

“Hoo boy!”

“I’m serious. I found her in Simora. She is trying to become a showgirl.”

Silence came from the line and Degan frowned. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you. Are you sure it’s the same Mika? I mean she’s always been into her books and clubs and Archie—how could someone like that want to shake her ass in nothing but a bra and a g-string?”

Degan shrugged. “I don’t know, but if it’s her, I need to see her.”

“I’m telling you man, if this doesn’t work out you’re going to drive yourself crazy.” Preston pointed out. “I love you, D, but this woman has got you all kinds of tripping over her and you’ve never even so much as said boo to her.”

“I was a kid then! I thought it was a crush—but after I yelled her name during sex with Marissa, I know I either have to go and say something to her and have her toss it in my face or let it go and you know me.”

“Yeah. You’re not a let-it-go kinda guy. Just be careful, all right? Simora isn’t the best place at the moment if you catch my drift.”

Degan nodded even though he didn’t understand what that had to do with him. “I’ll be careful. And try to come back to the Apple in one piece, okay?”

“I make no such promises.” Preston laughed.

By the time he got off the phone, Degan was once more stuck in Manhattan rush hour traffic.

Chapter Three

Old man Ferguson sat at the farthest table in the broken down diner as usual and stared at her. For the millionth time, Mika looked up and caught him. He licked his lips like a dirty old lecher. Thoroughly disgusted, she rolled her eyes wiping her coffee covered hands on her apron. Farley, the dangerously overweight short order cook, hit the bell while yelling, “Order up! Number three!”

Taking a deep breath, Mika picked up the plate piled high with fried sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon, and walked it over to Mr. Ferguson. She placed the plate before him and without a second glance walked away. A few of the gossipers were now sitting at a table, hunched over and whispering as usual. Mika walked over and cocked a hip.

“Are you going to order or are you going to just sit here talking people’s business all day?” she inquired in a fake, sugary, voice that she knew irritated them. If she was having a crummy day, she might as well share.

“What nerve!” Mrs Beaty gasped.

Mika glared at her. “See that sign?” She pointed to a sign that said tables are for paying customers only. “If you’re not a paying customer, there’s the door. I don’t have time for this.”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to try and be civilized to us. Without us you wouldn’t have a job,” Ms. Spaulding pointed out.

“Dare to dream!” Mika fired back, clapping her hands with sarcasm firing through her veins. But her next words were cut off by the chiming of the tiny bells above the diner’s door. She turned in time to see a man—a sexy as sin man—walking through the door, removing his no doubt, designer shades and raking his long, dark hair out of his face with his fingers.

Her pussy pulsed slightly at the sight of him and every move he made was as though in slow motion. His immaculately tailored, black suit hugged his massive body perfectly as though he was born wearing them. His shoes screamed expensive. When he turned his attention to her, she sucked in some air for they were the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

She wondered what a man of that caliber was doing in Simora, but didn’t voice her thoughts. Walking over to him, she cleared her throat. “May I help you?”

“Yes—I’d like a table,” he replied.

“Sure. Follow me please.”

Even though at Mingy’s they never walked anyone to their table, Mika felt as if she had to spend as much time with this stranger as possible. Being closer to him, she could smell him. The hot, musky smell of man, danced around her senses, weakening her knees. She stepped aside, allowing him to sit down at the corner table.

“Would you like some coffee to start?” she asked as politely as she could.

“Actually,” he said, staring up into her face. “Could I get some orange juice? It’s hotter than hell outside and I’ve been stuck in a car from Braison.”

Smiling, Mika nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name? If I’m going to let a lady feed me, I at least have to know her name.”

Mika shook her head. “Well at least the pick-up lines stay the same.” She turned to grin at him. “It’s Mika.”

“Well, Mika. It’s a pleasure to have you feed me.”

Oh! I’d love to feed you alright.

As she walked away she had flashes of this beautiful stranger tied to her bed with her sitting on his face. She could feel her juices running downward even as she navigated the tables and the counter to reach for a clean glass and a jar of orange juice.

“Mika?” Farley’s voice crashed through her thoughts.

She turned to glare at him.

“The glass is full and you’re wasting orange juice.” Farley pointed. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

Looking down to see what he was talking about, Mika saw that her shoes were covered in orange juice. The glass she held was overflowing. Swearing, she placed it down, grabbed a new cup and paid attention to filling it. Placing it on a tray—something she never did—she dropped a straw into it while kicking her legs to get the excess wetness off. She tugged her uniform into place, lifted her chin, picked up her tray and walked back to the stranger. She placed the glass before him before tucking the tray beneath her arm and grabbing an old notepad from her apron’s pocket with a pencil. She’d been there so long she didn’t really need the notepad. Remembering things was her specialty. But in a bid to look professional, she was going to pull out all the stops.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Scrambled eggs and sausages please,” he said. “And toast if you have it.”

She scribbled on the notepad.

* * * *

The moment Degan saw her, he knew. She’d gain a little more in the hips and looked a little worn down, but it was Mika. It was the same girl he’d seen that day in the halls and wanted. Years later, she was the same sexy woman he ached to get to know. But he wasn’t sure how to approach her. What would he say?

Hey Mika, it’s Degan Moira? The guy that would watch you secretly during high school.

Hey Mika, it’s Degan—I want you and your body in the worse way.

Though he wasn’t hungry, he allowed her to lead him to a table, watching her perfect ass swing almost hypnotically from side to side. It had taken everything in him, not to reach out and tap her on the ass with his open palm.

After ordering his meal, he watched her walk away again, and it broke his heart. It seemed that every time he’s seen her, she was walking away. Even with the thought that he loved to watch her leave, Degan knew he had to come up with a plan to get her to talk to him—not as a stranger ordering breakfast in the diner she worked in, but as the football team captain she’d ignored all through high school. He watched her while she worked at the counter, at different tables. He saw the way people whispered when she walked away.

What’s that all about?

Still he waited until she brought his meal and placed it before him to take the next step. “Could I ask you to sit with me for a moment, Mika?”

Her eye brows snapped upward. Her eyes widened and she instantly smoothed her hands over her hips. “I didn’t ask you to marry me. I simply would like some conversation.”

“There’s a strip club down the street on the left,” she replied. “They are more than willing to have conversations—providing you pay them enough, that is. I’m working, I don’t have time for conversations.”

A smirk tugged at Degan’s lips. She was feisty—he liked that. “This won’t be long, I promise.”

The way she was staring at him, Degan knew she was sizing him up. It was obvious she had no idea who he was which made the reason he was there even harder. “Please?”

“Fine.” Her chest rose and fell heavily. She slipped into the booth across from him and tucked her hands beneath the table in her lap. “What do you want to converse about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You really don’t remember me, do you?”

“Is this some sort of joke?” she asked. “Because if it is I really don’t have that kind of time or patience to deal with it at the moment so simply send me a Polaroid.”

Mika was pushing from the table, but Degan caught her arm. “No, no joke. I swear.”

That took the wind from her sails. He could tell because she slipped back to her seat and leaned forward to stare at his face.

“I don’t remember you.”

“I can tell. My name is Degan Moira.”

Perhaps it was something he said or the way he said it, but he saw it the moment she recognized him. She shoved roughly from the table causing him to quickly grab his glass of orange juice so it wouldn’t tip over.

“I have to go!” she blurted out and was almost running from him.

“Mika!” he called.

Instead of stopping, she yanked off her apron, slammed it on the counter. The overly large man from the kitchen stuck his fat head through the serving counter and yelled after her, but she darted out the door. Degan ran after her, but didn’t make it in time. She was gone.

When he entered again he saw the man staring at him.

“What did she say to you?” The large man questioned.

“I think, sir, you should be asking, what I said to her.” Degan frowned. “It is nothing she did, but completely my fault.”

“If you say so,” the fat man said.

Feeling ill, Degan removed money from his wallet and placed it into the man’s hand. “For my meal,” he said plainly.

Without another word, he exited Mingy’s diner and sat in the front seat of his luxury rental SUV. That wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for from her. Though he couldn’t understand it, Degan was left feeling as though his lover had rejected him.