“Love.” The answer just jumped out of me, and I found myself backtracking. “I mean, like for your family, friends, and humanity… not just…” I licked my dry lips again.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, his nostrils flaring a bit. “Fucking?” he said, finishing my sentence.
“Yeah,” I breathed, the word barely audible. Now, I was really uncomfortable.
Maybe this guy was with the mob, or a human trafficker, or some other sort of deviant character.
He wiped his hands and put his credit card on the bill holder, signaling me to take it, but Ma rushed in.
“I’ll get that,” she barked, leaving me to stand with this weirdo for a few more minutes until he could pay for his barely eaten meal.
His eyes smoldered as he undressed every inch of me. “I like fucking.”
I felt the heat of his stare and wanted to smack him in the face, but I had a choice — cower and retreat or stand up to the jerk.
“Good for you,” I answered, giving him an I don’t give a fuck what you like to do sort of stare.
“You look like the kind of girl who could use—”
“No, I don’t,” I interrupted, staring at him dead on. “You might have a lot of money, sir, but you can’t come in here and proposition people like they were put on this earth only for your entertainment. I don’t appreciate what you were about to insinuate. Money obviously doesn’t buy manners.”
I finished my scolding just as Ma brought him his bill. She caught part of what I said, but I didn’t care. I was done with the guy, so I ducked into the back and let myself cool down. From the corner of the curtained off office/break area, I watched a driver pop out of the front of his fancy car and open the door for him.
As they drove off, I felt a wave of relief, and strangely, a tinge of loss. Why? I explored the question. If I was being honest with myself, the rich asshole was sexy as hell. Despite my wanting it otherwise, I was attracted to him. His off-color remark was so inappropriate but… titillating.
I hadn’t been with anyone in years. My last boyfriend only lasted a year, and I think Dwayne and I broke up because I just couldn’t let down my walls — they were tall and thick, and I knew when the first bricks were laid down.
Nineteen years ago, my dad bludgeoned my mom with a tire iron. He hit her sixty-four times, at least that’s what the newspaper reported when I read it years later.
He thought she was cheating on him, and from all accounts whispered behind partially closed doors, she was. At least that was what I thought I heard them say. I would sneak around the house after everyone thought I was in bed and listen, trying to fit the pieces together.
I remembered them arguing in the car, me in the back seat. My hands were over my ears, my eyes tightly closed as they screamed at each other. In a fit of drunken rage, he drove us to a remote spot, killed her with the tire iron, then shot himself.
I remembered the gun. The small, cold piece of steel pointing at me. My heart leaped into my throat, and I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I just started to cry.
“Please, Daddy,” was all I could get out.
He turned the gun on himself, and I don’t remember anything else, just waking up in my gran’s lap. I didn’t even know where we were.
Men… I didn’t really trust them, even nice ones like my ex. I think Dwayne just gave up and moved on.
“Caitlyn!” Ma shouted.
I groaned. Great, I was going to get a reprimand for being rude to the rich guy who was about to proposition me. She was waving his bill in her hand, trembling.
“Whatever you did….” She couldn’t finish her words, just slapped the bill in my hand and looked at me expectantly.
I glanced down to his signed check. Felt my knees go weak and the world around me turn dark as I read the note written on the top of the bill.
Caitlyn, you look like a girl who could use… a little extra cash. Use it to change your life, have fun, whatever - KP
Next to the “tip” line, he’d written $15,000.
CHAPTER TWO
KP
I was expecting that whole thing to feel better than it did. I didn’t extend charity often, but she had me wanting to be a hero.
Having successfully eaten at my first late-night greasy spoon, I was proud of my accomplishment. I wanted to hate it, but I didn’t exactly abhor the experience. I was out of my element in every way possible, yet I was no stranger to uncomfortable situations. They usually didn’t even register for me.
Caitlyn was an unexpected surprise.
Who knew one of the most beautiful women in the country would be tucked away in a dirty little diner? She had the most striking brown eyes and vibrant auburn hair. Her face was indescribable, and her body… even polyester blend couldn’t hide her incredible curves. Caitlyn was poetry, a symphony, and a masterpiece all in one. Frankly, I lost my shit. I never misbehaved in public. Shame on me. Now, I felt off-center.
She’d jarred me, though, with her refusal. Well, she didn’t actually refuse. I pulled the reins before hitting her with my, “You look like a girl who needs a good fucking” line. She beat me to the punch, and what a punch it was. The feeling was unsettling. I had never been rebuffed. I was trying to pacify myself by insisting that she hadn’t actually denied me. She berated me, scolded me, and demeaned my base nature, yes, but she never really refused… because I never got the chance to ask her the question.
Now, I felt challenged. I needed to win. Leaving her the money was only the start of my game. I would have that girl purring in my lap soon enough. I let the image settle my brain as I finished watching the weekly dailies on my phone.
The drive back to New York City was tedious, yet it gave me an opportunity to finish my work. Driving at night meant I escaped the horrendous city traffic. I didn’t like people nosing around my private life, so the veil of night was a welcome deterrent to prying eyes. The drive from Connecticut to NYC had been uneventful except for the diner interlude.
I couldn’t shake it. Why did this woman vex me? She was just like any other. That was my mantra all the way back to NYC — she was just like any other woman.
I would be the first to admit that I loved women. No, that wasn’t true. I loved to fuck them. There was nothing better than a woman’s body in the heat of arousal. I was thirty-fours years old and by now an expert. I knew women better than they knew themselves. That was why I vowed that I would never marry one or otherwise commit to one. I liked variety and wanted to taste every flavor and often. I was also not willing to become intimate enough to let anyone near my heart. That was the chink in my armor, but I was up for a good old-fashion fucking any night of the week.