“Nope.”

“Where do you work?”

“Here and there.  I was working as a cigarette girl at a casino, but it was a temporary gig.  Now I’m in between.  I got a job offer at Hooters that I’m considering.”

I shot a glance at her chest.  “They’d eat you up, wouldn’t they?”

She giggled.  “What about you, Dair?  Would you eat me up?”

I nearly cut my fingers off.

I took a moment to compose myself as I shoved the kale, carrots, white tea, cucumber, strawberries, ginger, and spinach into my Vitamix, filling it to the top.  I blended it until it was smooth liquid.

I poured two glasses, sliding one to her.  I took my own to the table in the breakfast nook.

She joined me, taking a long drink.  “Not bad.  Not good, but it obviously works.  Keeps you fit enough, eh?”

I drank mine in a few big chugs.

She finished hers slowly.  I knew she was teasing me when she licked the rim of her empty cup.

The girl got a kick out of driving me wild.

She rolled the empty glass between her exposed cle**age, giving me very solid eye contact.  “What now?”

I took a few deep, steadying breaths.  “I can take you wherever you want.  Just say the word.”

She beamed.  “Let’s watch some TV.”

I was incapable of telling her no, and she insisted on the theatre room, but she wanted to watch cable.  Bad cable.

She sat on the bench seat, and I sat a safe two feet away from her.  She picked something god-awful to watch, some reality show about Gypsies living in the states.

It didn’t matter.  I couldn’t have paid attention to that screen if my life had depended on it just then.

She kept inching closer to me.

She laughed at something on the show, then said, “Can you turn the lights up?  How bright can you make it in here?”

I showed her.

“Can we watch this in your bedroom?” she asked, and I could feel her looking at me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How about a room with some natural light?  And what do you have to snack on?”

I showed her to the living room, which did have a TV hidden behind a painting, and an abundance of natural light.

I turned her awful show back on.  “What kind of snack do you want?”

“I’ll go look and see what you have.  Do you mind if I just make myself at home?”

I shook my head, but I did mind.

I was ready to tear my hair out; I wanted so badly to touch her.

She came back with a strawberry Popsicle.  She’d chopped it in half, so it was just one long stick that bobbed in and out of her mouth.

I was about to lose my shit, and the grin on her face told me she knew it.

“Want me to grab you one?  Or you want to share?”

I shook my head, looking back at the TV, pretending to watch it.

She laughed at something on the show, some woman with orange skin and black curly hair saying, “More.  It can’t be sparkly enough.”

She moved in front of me, her barely covered ass nearly in my face.

I clenched my fists.

She sat beside me, our h*ps touching.  She patted my knee and went to town on the Popsicle like she was giving me the show of my life.

“Jesus,” I muttered as it disappeared completely into her mouth.

I was so outclassed here.

She sent me a sideways smile that made my heart beat into my throat.

She pulled it completely out, smacking her red lips.  “You said your ex-wife hadn’t sucked you off for years before you caught her with that other guy.  So how many years has it been since you’ve gotten a blow job?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, cursing.  “I don’t know.  Fuck.  Five years?  Maybe more.”

She stood up, moving in front of me again.  Very slowly, like she was testing the waters, she sat on my lap.

She held her Popsicle to my lips, and what could I do?  I licked it, then started sucking it as she pushed it in and out of my mouth, her head laid back on my shoulder, my hard-on digging like a poker into her ass.

“Show me how you like it, baby,” she whispered.

I sucked hard on it, the noise loud, even compared to the TV.

“Jesus, do you think I’m a vacuum?” she asked, sounding perturbed.

I stopped abruptly, and she dissolved into laugher, standing up.  She disappeared, then came back, sans Popsicle.

“So, tell me, am I too young even to kiss?” she asked, standing directly in front of me, this time facing me.

I couldn’t answer her.  My opinion was in direct opposition with my need.

She took a deep breath, her hands going to the zipper at the front of her tiny sports bra.

CHAPTER FOUR

She slid the zipper down, taking it off slowly, and I lost my breath.  No, that wasn’t right.  My breath was taken from me.  Stolen right out of my lungs.

Her tits were perfect, round and big, supple and buoyant, and f**k me, they were even tan.

She had to sunbathe topless.  I was panting as she moved closer.

“Take off your shirt,” she told me.

I obeyed.

As I’ve said, I was unable to tell her no.

Incapable.

Literally.

Also, on a douche bag side note, I worked hard to look good naked, and it was nice to show it off, for once.

She made an appreciative noise.