Authors: Afton Locke
“I’ve been thinking, Carlos. Maybe I should quit this job so
we won’t keep running into each other.”
“No!” He grips the edge of the table. “I-I have to use the
restroom.”
Why is he telling me this?
“Well, I’m sure you know where it is.”
To my surprise, he grabs my hand, jumps out of his seat and
whisks me around the corner into the men’s room. It resembles a private
bathroom in someone’s house with one toilet and sink. He must be kidding me.
Exhibitionistic breakup sex?
I hold up a hand. “If this is about exhibitionism…”
“No, this is about convenience.” He locks the door, turns on
the fan and looks at me. “The last time you saw me in a bathroom, I was a
wreck. I need to hold you, right here and right now.”
I rub my forehead, trying to make a split-second decision,
but my brain is nowhere to be found. The enticing pine scent from the basket of
potpourri on the sink doesn’t help. Even though it goes against my judgment, I
drift into his arms as if a powerful magnet has pulled me there. My hands slide
past his waist to rest on the familiar hard planes of his back.
His mouth finds mine and devours it as if he’s been starving.
The salty taste of his punishing lips must be from the nachos he ate, but it
reminds me of sadness. He swallows each moan that bubbles up in my throat. Heat
flash-floods through my body and fills the empty ache in my chest.
It doesn’t take long for his warm hand to find my bottom.
The familiar, possessive squeeze activates every dormant feeling and memory of
our past relationship to full intensity.
God, how I’ve missed this…missed him.
He rests his hands on my shoulders. “I once told you I’d
never give up stripping for any woman, even you.”
“I remember.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Just say the word and I’ll quit.”
I shake my head. “Carlos, be sensible.”
He grasps my chin, his face mere inches from mine. “You
risked your job because of me and lost it. Why shouldn’t I be willing to make
the same sacrifice for you?”
I can tell from the serious look in his eyes, he means every
word. Warmth swells inside my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“I don’t want you to quit,” I answer, touching his hair.
“But thank you for offering.”
He kisses me again, eroding my resistance as his lips grind
against mine and his tongue conquers the inside of my mouth. I pull away to
breathe and get out from under his spell, but the peach-colored walls spin
around me as if I’m drunk.
“Bend over and hang on to the towel rod.”
When I donned my uniform this morning—white shirt, black
skirt and colorful woven belt depicting hot peppers—I had no idea I was going
to get laid in it.
“Are you out of your mind? I-I’m wearing my uniform.”
“I’m sure Fernando would understand,” he whispers.
Pushing aside the towels, I grasp the towel rod, the
cylindrical metal cool to my touch.
My cunt swells to life when I hear the sound of a ripped
condom packet. It’s been too long. I’ve missed him so much, inside and out.
When he pulls up my skirt and yanks down my panties, I let him. He palms my
bare buttocks, kneading the flesh as if to reclaim it and rediscover it at the
same time. Every nerve cell in my skin activates to tingling-hot intensity.
I grip the rod harder. Anticipation has already made the
metal hot and slippery under my sweaty fingers. My cunt is even wetter.
“We both need this,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean any
more than that.”
I know I’ll lose control, as I always do, when our bodies
join. Maybe control is overrated. I couldn’t control the bad things that
happened in my life no matter how hard I tried so why keep trying? Fuck
control. Fuck me….
God, yes, Carlos. Fuck me. Fuck me now.
I moan from the depths of my soul when his hot penis pushes
into me. Luckily the fan muffles the juicy sound. He takes me quick and hard.
Because my legs are not spread too far apart, my opening is already tight. It
contracts, as if I’m trying to keep him out, forming a tight barrier against
his thrusting. The resistance only heightens our pleasure.
My eyes and chest burn with emotion, competing with the
unquenchable fire blazing between my legs. I need this man. No matter how
imperfect he is, I can’t live without him. At this moment, my career doesn’t
matter. I can be a janitor for all I care. The most important thing is us.
He grips my hips so hard they hurt—as if I’ll drift away and
he’ll drown if he lets go. His cock pushes deep, deeper than it ever has
before. One of these thrusts flips a switch in my core and my soul. Every
defense I brought into this room shatters harder than a hundred plates thrown
against the wall as I climax.
“Carlos!” I whimper his name, unsure if it’s a plea for help
or a surrender.
Every muscle below my waist goes so limp I can no longer
stand. My clenched hands pull the towel rod off the wall. It slips out of my
hands and drops with a clatter. I lurch backward, white-hot panic burning in my
chest. But Carlos’ muscular body stays behind me, a barrier between me and the
hard, tiled floor.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
Although the fall pulled his cock out of me, we crouch
together on the clean floor where he enfolds me in his arms from behind.
Several silent moments pass, his chest rising and falling against my back as he
breathes. He even rests his head on my shoulder. For some reason, this joining
is more powerful than the sex. I squeeze my damp eyelids shut, wishing the
moment would never end.
He lets go of me. “Stand up.”
After I stand, pulling my panties up and skirt down, I
wonder why he’s still on his hands and knees after fastening his pants.
Swallowing hard, he takes my hands. “Never in my life have I
begged a woman for anything.”
I believe him. He’s a young, brutally handsome male
stripper. Girls would line up around the block just to touch his abs. If he
threw his thong into the audience at the club, dozens of horny women would
fight over it, ripping it to shreds.
“Give me one more chance, Janice. Please.” His dark eyes,
luminous with unshed tears, burn with such emotion it’s as if I can see his
heart reflected in them. “I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.
I’ll give you everything I have.”
“Carlos…” I begin the sentence, intending to cut him off
because I can’t take any more of this.
For the first time since I’ve known him, his hands moisten
with sweat. I try to pull out of his grip but it’s too tight.
“And may God strike me dead if I ever do anything to hurt
you,” he continues.
When he bows his head with the heaviness of defeat, the hard
knot tied inside my chest unravels so fast I almost fall down again. I’ve never
seen anyone act this genuine and humble. It’s as if he ripped out his heart and
handed it to me.
He planned this, of course, catching me in my moment of
weakness. I realize he didn’t climax earlier, but I have a feeling sex wasn’t
what he came in here for. As my nails dig into his palms, I tremble, torn
between my heart and my head, between my old and new selves.
I trusted him enough to let him put his cock where none have
gone before and that turned out fine. Should I run away from something because
it’s scary? I faced unemployment again, but it didn’t destroy me. Could he?
What if he cheats on me? Really cheats on me? But doesn’t
everyone take that risk when entering a relationship?
Although long sleeves cover his arms, I picture his tattoo
and the day we spent at Great Falls. Seeing the eagle reminded me of his tough
childhood, but was the sign meant for me instead—urging me to choose strength
over weakness?
Power blossoms inside me, tentative at first and then with
more force until it surges through my blood. Nothing can destroy me now and I
don’t want to miss out on one moment of joy with this man because of fear.
Lifting his head, he looks up at me again, awaiting my
answer.
“Don’t let me down, Carlos Aguilar.” I swallow hard, my
voice a raspy croak. “Don’t you dare.”
“I won’t,
querida
.” One of those gradual smiles
spreads across his face. “I swear to God, you won’t regret this.”
I look down at our joined hands, hoping I haven’t made the
biggest mistake of my life.
* * * * *
One month later, Carlos drives me to Leesburg, Virginia, on
a Sunday afternoon in early January. Sun streaks through the windshield,
shining on his creamy cable-knit sweater and my yellow cardigan. For some
reason, I don’t think the yellow looks too bright now, or maybe I’m just not a
beige kind of girl anymore.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
We’ve been dating the past month while I take my cooking
class. I even found a job in my current career and start Monday. Despite
resuming our wonderful sex life, though, something is missing from what we used
to have.
The cause is my trust, or lack thereof, I realize as I look
out the window at the leafless trees. Even though I trusted him enough to take
him back, I’m still locking away a piece of my heart from him. It’s why we tend
to clam up after sex and why I’m not holding his hand right now. Even the sex
is not as vivid as it used to be. We satisfy each other physically, but the
emotional connection is weak or nonexistent.
Trust.
Will I ever get it back?
I hope so. We can’t go on like this much longer. The last
thing I want is to go through another painful breakup with him, but I can’t
take much more of this limbo either.
He stops the car at a vacant building that looks as if it
used to be a restaurant.
“What’s this?” I ask.
He doesn’t smile, but then he hasn’t done that much lately.
“Our future,” he states. “I think it will help. At least I
hope so.”
Huh?
Bundled in winter coats, we get out of the car.
Shading our eyes from the sun, we look in the windows at a vacant room. For
some reason, I can visualize it crowded with patrons and smell the aroma of
melted cheese and pungent spices. I can even taste it. Something stirs deep in
my belly. A hunger. A rightness.
“What do you have planned, Carlos?”
“It’s a new year, Janice. This is going to be my new career.
Our new career.”
“A spinoff restaurant from Fernando’s?”
He smiles. “Exactly. Come on. You’ve got to see the back.”
My heart trips with excitement as he leads me to a walled
patio paved with broken and uneven bricks. The sound of traffic is fainter
here. Overgrown trees and unidentifiable flower bushes surround the walls,
giving it atmosphere.
“It needs some fixing up,” I say, “but it has something
special.”
He points to the corner. “I want to put a bandstand there.
We can have local artists perform and let people dance. I want you to be the
chef.”
Me, head chef of a restaurant? The thought knocks the breath
out of me. The day we made fajitas together comes to mind—the colors, the
flavors. It was the day I realized I couldn’t live without him.
“Fajitas…”I whisper.
Red salsa and hot peppers for passion, meat for strength to
face hardships, tortillas for daily sustenance and guacamole for kicking back
and relaxing. Yes, fajitas have everything we need.
“We’ll serve the best fajitas in the state.” He clasps my
arm. “Since we’ll be working together, I might have to take you to the men’s
room several times a day.”
An echo of our old heat simmers in my belly. “I don’t think
we’d have time. Some hot-pepper kisses would be nice though.”
His lips brush mine. “I wish we had a few jalapeños right
now.”
I sigh, my body heat receding into the cold wind. “It’s a
wonderful fantasy, but this is a huge undertaking.”
He nods. “It won’t happen overnight. It’ll take a lot of
planning and hard work. I’m going to ease out of stripping gradually.”
His words come back to me.
I want what my brother has.
“I don’t know what to say, Carlos.”
“Say you’ll stand by my side.” He takes my hands in his and
presses each of my fingers. “Someday I’m going to ask you to be my wife. I’m
not asking now because I know we’re not ready.”
The bricks shift beneath my feet. Marriage. Oh my God. Part
of me is disappointed he’s not asking now, but the other part is impressed by
his maturity. He knows me too well.
“Marriage has rules, Carlos, and I know you don’t like
rules.”
“Some rules are sacred and can’t be broken.” He swallows and
continues. “I shattered your trust, Janice, but I can’t restore it overnight.
It’s going to take time and I’m going to see it through, step by step.”
My hands tremble as they pull out of his grip and touch his
face. “You…amaze me.”
“This is no fantasy.” He looks around at the broken-down
patio. “My love for you is so real. No matter what, you can always depend on
that.”
“I know and I love you too. So much it never stops scaring
me.”
We share a kiss with the wintry sun warming the crowns of
our heads. The wind blows a lock of his dark hair, which I can’t resist
touching.
Butterflies pelt my stomach and I can’t suppress my grin.
“Can we go back to the car now?”
He cocks his head. “Why do I get the feeling you have a
surprise for me too?”
He’ll find out soon enough…if I can pull it off. Instead of
answering, I grab his hand and steer him back to the parking lot.
Before he can slide into the driver’s seat, I touch his arm.
“Lie down in the back.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” I reply.
Do it before I change my mind.
“Should I start the engine and turn on the heat?” he asks.
“We won’t need it, Carlos.”
His mouth lifts into a hesitant smile. “I don’t know what
you’re up to, but I think I like it.”