Want It Bad (23 page)

“You were, not me.”

“Why not you?”

Jake shook his head. “I’m not talking about sexual boundaries, Carla.”

“Sure you are.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Why isn’t it? What are you so afraid of?” She grabbed the homemade scarf.

For a second, he held on, then heaving a sigh, he released the tangle of yarn, and Carla tossed it to the floor.

He was only partially hard, his length long and full, yet hanging down. But as she stared, his erection flexed upward, growing and stiffening as if she was stroking him with her fingers and not just with her gaze.

“I can’t do this, Carla,” Jake said, although he didn’t move to cover himself, his fists opening and closing at his sides.

Carla didn’t reach for him, didn’t touch him, just watched. Jake had done so many things to her, so many amazing things, so many intimate things, and yet standing erect and exposed in front of her made him so obviously uncomfortable, she could tell it took everything he had not to shield himself from her.

He coaxed pleasure from every part of a woman’s body, and yet didn’t let them touch him. He gave his clients orgasm after orgasm, and yet never came until after they left.

“You want others to need you, but you don’t want to need them,” she said.

Jake lowered his head.

“Because if you need them, they can hurt you.”

“Carla, stop.”

She thought of his mother, the story of her leaving, Jake’s comment about the ladies not liking bow ties. “If you need them, you’re afraid they’ll leave.”

“This… this isn’t the conversation I want to have.”

“Then maybe it’s time for you to grow up.”

Carla knew the words were harsh, and regretted saying them when she saw Jake’s face sink. And that wasn’t all that sunk. His lovely erection began to droop, like the air slowly being let out of a balloon. A cock-shaped balloon.

“I should get back.” Jake slowly turned around, opened the front door, and then quickly closed it. “Shit.”

“What?”

As if in answer to her question, a spotlight flashed through the front windows.

Jake turned to face her, a dark silhouette against the glare. “Someone called the cops.”

Carla peered out the window at the police cruiser stopped in the street, its red and blue lights blinking. A single officer stood on the front porch of Jake’s house, talking to Janet.

That couldn’t be good.

Carla eyed Jake’s nudity then ducked into the powder room off the foyer and grabbed one of the decorative bath towels. Returning to the foyer, she handed it to Jake.

“Thanks.”

“Stay here. I’ll handle the cop.”

“I got it, Carla.”

“You’re going to march out there in nothing but a towel, and then what are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“No. I’m a lawyer. I broke the window. I’ll take care of it. Now stay here.”

She pulled open the door and walked briskly over to Jake’s house. Janet was still wearing the Lone Ranger hat, mask, and chaps, She’d thrown on a western shirt since Carla had last seen her, its buttons now straining to hold in her bodacious breasts, the shirt’s tails draping to mid-thigh.

Please let her be wearing panties under that shirt.

The cop was tall, broad shouldered, big gun, just the kind of guy Janet couldn’t resist. Only judging by the hard expression on his face, this guy took his job seriously and was not likely to fall for Janet’s in-your-face charms.

As she got closer, she heard Janet say to the cop, “So, are you single? I got a nice holster for your pistol. Nice and tight. You could slip it right in.”

Carla fought the urge to slink back into her house and pretend nothing was happening. The whole thing was her fault.

“She’s kidding, officer,” Carla said, stepping onto the porch.

“It’s true. I am kidding. I really don’t care if you’re single or not, my holster is still open for business.”

The cop cleared his throat. He didn’t look amused.

“We received a call about a disturbance here this evening. Would either of you know anything about that?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, officer,” Janet said. Then she touched her eye and pretended to look surprised. “Oopsie! I lost a contact lens! Is that it?”

Janet made a show of slowly bending over and touching the porch, her ass wiggling at the cop.

Nope. No panties.

The officer glanced at Carla, then to Janet, then back again. “Does one of you live here?”

“I live next door,” Carla gestured to her home.

He pulled out a notebook. “Your name?”

Carla gave it to him.

“You want my name, too?” Janet asked, her head upside-down between her knees. “And my number?”

Carla rolled her eyes at Janet, injecting enough drama to make a teenager envious. She addressed the cop. “She doesn’t live around here. Now what’s the problem, officer?”

He stepped off the porch and marched into Jake’s landscaping, extending his index finger in a point. “Is that yours?”

Janet followed the cop, Carla bringing up the rear. She focused on Jake’s house, on Denzel hanging suspended in the living room window, his scrotum hooked on the remaining glass’s sharp edge.

Ouch.

“Yeah, that’s definitely hers,” Janet said, taking a closer look then jerking a thumb at Carla. “It’s a little on the small side for my tastes, and I would never treat a dick that way. Even a rubber one. I treat them much, much better.”

Janet ran her tongue across her lower lip and winked.

“Can you please stop the flirting shit, Janet? This isn’t the time for it.”

“Let’s ask Officer Sexy.” Janet pouted. “Should I stop the flirting shit, officer?” She placed her fingertip in her mouth then began to move it in and out.

Carla stared at Janet and wondered why she continued to be her friend. She’d always been like this. Inappropriate. Immature. Behaving like a spoiled kid.

“That’s enough, Janet. You’re acting ridiculous.”

Janet lost the fake pout, and her eyebrows creased. “Me? I’m the one acting ridiculous, Nolan Ryan?”

Carla stepped past the officer and toward Janet. “Why did you call Jake?”

“I can’t treat myself? You did. It’s okay for you to do it, and not me? My money is good, too.”

Carla put her hands on her hips. “This is just like college.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t have any money in college.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Jake is the first guy I’ve ever paid to fuck me.”

The cop glanced up from his notebook. “Back up there.”

Carla advanced again, dodging Jake’s foundation plantings. “What about my college boyfriend, huh Janet?”

“What about him?”

“You fucked him.”

“I did not! I just let him finger-bang me.”

“How could you do that?”

“Well, first I took my jeans off.”

“How could you do that to
me
, Janet?”

“I didn’t do it to you. He did it to me. And then he knocked on every door in his frat, telling everyone to smell his finger. I did you a favor, Carla. He was creepy. Yelling like he’d just discovered the cure for cancer. Smell my finger! Smell my finger! Who does that?”

“Why did you let him do anything with you?”

“I didn’t even know you two were serious.”

“Earlier that night I told you we were serious!”

“That? I didn’t think you were serious.”

“You always do this, Janet. It’s not enough that you can fuck any guy you want, you have to fuck the guys I want, too.”

“It’s not my fault that guys need to know some secret handshake to get into your pussy.”

“That’s not true!”

“That guy at work. How many dates before you showed him your tits?”

“I don’t remember.”

“It was eight. You went out eight times before he even saw a nipple.”

“There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“You’re a prude, Carla.”

“Am not.”

“Prove it. Flash the cop.”

Carla glanced at the police officer, who looked up from the notes he was taking. He shrugged.

“That’s ridiculous,” Carla said.

“Prude! They’re just boobs, Carla. No big deal.” Janet proved her point by opening her shirt and shaking.

“I don’t believe you!”

“What? That I’m not a prude?”

Carla looked to the cop. “Aren’t you going to arrest her for exposing herself?”

“You ladies need to settle down.”

“You’ve always thought that you were better than me, Carla. Morally superior. When really, you’re just too afraid of not being perfect to take what you want.”

“Really?” Carla’s cheeks burned, that hum rising in her ears. “You want to fuck everything with a pulse because you’re afraid that’s the only thing you’re good for.”

In one motion, Janet reached up to the window, grabbed Denzel by the scrotum, and flung him straight at Carla.

Carla ducked to the side.

The cop didn’t.

Whack.

He brought his hand to his cheek. Then in three strides he was beside Janet, cupping her elbow in one hand, her wrist in the other. “You’re under arrest, ma’am.”

“I want my lawyer,” Janet cried. She stepped backward, trying to wrest her elbow from his grip. “Carla?”

Carla held up her hands, palms out. “I can’t help you here, Janet.”

“You bitch! I’m glad I blew your last boyfriend!”

“You blew Greg?”

“You should have seen how grateful he was to have a woman who knew what she was doing!”

“I know how to suck cock!”

“Not according to Greg!”

The cop cuffed Janet and ushered her to the squad car.

How had this all gone so wrong?

Janet safely inside the car, the officer returned to Carla, focusing hard enough to see right through her. “There’s still the matter of the window. Who broke it?”

The front door of Carla’s house slammed. “No one cares about the window. It was an accident.”

Jake.

Carla cringed. Hadn’t she told him to stay inside? Hadn’t she told him she’d take care of this? She glanced over her shoulder.

Still only wearing a towel, he crossed the lawn with big strides.

“And who are you, sir?” the officer asked.

“Jake Snotmallow.”

Carla turned to him. “Your last name is Snotmallow? Like a snot marshmallow?”

“It’s Dutch,” Jake said.

“It’s awful.”

Jake ignored her. “This is my house, officer.”

“You live here?”

“Yes.”

“You know these two women?”

He focused on Carla. “Yes.”

“And the one in the squad car? She came here to see you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re also under arrest.”

Carla stepped up, putting herself between the cop and Jake. “What’s the charge?”

“Prostitution,” The officer said, peering at Carla with stern eyes. “And if you don’t get out of my way, you’ll leave me no choice but to take you in for obstruction of justice and disorderly conduct.”

“Arrest her for throwing the dildo at the window!” Janet yelled from the car. “Breaking and entering! Reckless endangerment with a sex toy!”

“Did you throw that sex toy at the window, ma’am?”

“It’s my window,” Jake said staring at Carla. “And it was an accident. I’m not pressing charges.”

“Charge her with sexual assault!” Janet yelled. “She raped the window with that rubber dick!”

“Janet, will you shut the fuck up?”

“Fuck you, Carla!”

The cop cuffed Jake, who looked more sad than upset. The anger left Carla, being replaced by guilt as she watched the cop put him in the car. Then he came back, putting on some rubber gloves and picking up the dildo. He placed it in an evidence bag.

Exhibit A for the prosecution.

It should have been amusing. And maybe, someday, it would be.

But at that very moment, Carla had never hated herself more.

Although Carla was a lawyer, the day in and day out of one giant corporation suing another didn’t prepare her for the nitty gritty of an evening in the jail lobby posting bail and waiting for Jake and Janet to be set free. It had been over two hours, and the shift had changed, which resulted in Carla approaching the new woman behind the desk.

“May I help you?”

Carla had the strongest case of deja vu she’d ever experienced. Except it wasn’t deja vu. It was reality.

“You’re the waitress. From the Italian restaurant.”

The cop’s face pinched. “I get it. I’m black, and you had some black waitress wait on you, so you think we’re the same person because you white folks can’t tell one African American from the other.”

“You waited on me and my friend. We were there for lunch last week. You tried to get me to hire the escort.”

“That was you?” the cop smiled broadly. “Sorry, girl. You white girls all look alike to me.”

“So you’re a waitress and a cop?”

“Need two jobs to make ends meet. These are rough economic times.”

No kidding, Carla thought, thinking of the clerk at the hobby shop who moonlighted at the adult bookstore. Or maybe it was vice-versa.

“So how’d it go with that escort? You hook up?”

“I’m in a police station. What do you think?”

“Daaaaaamn! He got arrested? Well, prostitution is against the law. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“You told me to do it!”

“Who you gonna listen to, a waitress, or a cop?”

Carla sighed. “I posted bail for him and my friend a while ago. Can you let me know when they’ll be released? It’s been a long night.”

“I can check. What’s the man whore’s name?”

“Snotmallow,” Carla said. “First name Jake.”

“Snotmallow? Like a snotty marshmallow? That’s the worst name ever.”

“I know.”

“You get married, preacher says I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Snotmallow. No way.”

“It’s Dutch.”

“It’s terrible. Man whore would take my last name if we got hitched. I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Hotbox.”

“Your last name is Hotbox?”

Officer Hotbox pointed to her nametag. “I come from a long line of Hotboxes. Got a problem with that?”

“No. It just sounds like the name of a woman in a James Bond film.”