Part 4 (2/2)
”It wasn't a joke and we both know it!”
”Well, it was mostly a joke,” she admitted.
”I hope the toilet overflows on you,” I spat with one final kick at the door, ”It'd serve you right for being such an awful friend.”
”It'd be so worth it.”
I left my post outside the bathroom and retrieved my coffee from its spot on the kitchen counter.
She had to come out eventually, and when she did, I'd be waiting.
Holly's text finally came through as I pulled into the gym and my first reaction was to call her and thank her for understanding. I didn't want to push my luck though, so I just shot back a short response and called Preston. He was always my go-to guy for all things involving women.
”Well, I guess I didn't f.u.c.k it up too bad,” I said when he answered, ”She agreed to meet for dinner this weekend.”
”Really?” There was more surprise in the single word than there should have been and I knew something wasn't quite right.
”What do you mean, really? Why are you so surprised by that?”
”It's just, I dunno, I figured she'd forgive you, not set up a dinner date.”
”Preston, it's me. I could go through the phone book and call every number in alphabetical order and a good ninety percent of the people I talked to, male or female, would agree to a dinner date with me.”
”Trust me, I know, Porter. I was just sure she was in the other ten percent is all. She hates the p.o.r.n industry. She was ready to bolt the moment I opened the door for her at the party last night. It's not her scene and she's kinda grossed out by it all.”
Not her scene? Everyone likes p.o.r.n. What the h.e.l.l did he mean 'not her scene'?
”Porter, I gotta go,” a loud slap interrupted Preston's goodbye, ”You son of a b.i.t.c.h! You're not even inside me! There was no need for that!”
”Are you on set?” I asked, choking on the laugh that threatened to rumble out of my throat.
”Yeah, but this dumb son of a b.i.t.c.h can't manage to keep it up, so we're all just kinda sitting around while he grinds his hips into my a.s.s. It's not like I have anything better to do with my day! Anyway, I think I'm gonna have to teach this straight boy to bottom so we can get the h.e.l.l out of here before I'm too old to enjoy my good looks. I'll talk to you when we wrap.”
”Go easy on the poor guy.”
”One more slap on my a.s.s cheek and I'll split the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in two.”
The sharp crack of hand on flesh came over the line just before it went dead. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. If he really was straight, he had just crossed a line he probably hadn't intended on crossing when he showed up for work that morning. Preston's d.i.c.k is almost as big as mine and he had a reputation for getting a little bit rough with his bottoms. The potential for st.i.tches was high.
I cringed as I tossed my phone into my gym bag.
The familiar sounds of clanking weights, grunting meatheads, and the over-caffeinated Jazzercise instructor welcomed me to the second best place on Earth.
I'll be the first to admit I'm a gym bunny. My body pays my bills and keeping it tuned up is part of my routine seven days a week.
I hit the locker room and changed into my loose pair of basketball shorts and a demolished t-s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves ripped off. I'm all about cardio, so I had to be able to move.
”Porter!”
I cringed before turning around to face Vanessa, the over-caffeinated Jazzercise instructor.
”Hey, V. How was cla.s.s today?”
”It was great! Really invigorating! We miss seeing you in there!”
I'd had a momentary lapse in judgment a few months prior and found myself in her cla.s.s a few times. All the bouncing t.i.ts and a.s.s had been like a siren call to my over-imaginative loins.
I ended up hooking up with her once and never set foot in her cla.s.s again.
”Yeah, it just turned out to be more of a hindrance for my training. It's good to see you though!”
I turned to walk away and she grabbed my forearm in a vice-like grip, ”How about a spot?”
She walked to a nearby flat bench and loaded up the bar with a hundred pounds of iron.
Not wanting to offend her, I took my position over her head and gripped the steel bar on either side of her hands.
”Now this takes me back,” she winked up at me.
The tip of my d.i.c.k was dangling inches from her face and it took every ounce of my willpower not to roll my eyes and walk away as she stared at it absently licking her lips.
I hefted the weights out of the bar catchers, drawing her focus back to the task at hand, and let the bar settle into her palms.
Her form and breathing were flawless and her endurance admirable. I spotted her through four sets of twenty before she called it quits and allowed my to guide the bar back into its cradle.
”Thanks, Porter. If you ever need to add a little extra cardio to your day, you know where to find my bed.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed my cheek before drifting off to the women's locker room.
I absently wiped the spot with my shoulder and headed for the nearest treadmill. The need to run was reaching a critical point.
I programmed in a two mile run at six miles an hour and hit start.
My body took over and quickly settled into the familiar rhythm. My pulse, breathing, and footfalls synched up perfectly and all thoughts of Vanessa were quickly pushed from my head.
As I pushed myself through the quick two miles, the stresses of the day sloughed off like dirty clothes. The booze from the night before poured through my pores in steady streams of sweat and left me feeling invigorated and pure.
When my warm-up run was over, I moved on to lunges, then weighted lunges, twenty-yard sled pulls, and leg presses. With twenty minutes to go, I headed back to the treadmill and hit the hill. Six miles an hour with a five percent incline would push me just enough that I'd be exhausted, but still be able to walk the next day.
That last twenty minutes, I found myself with only one thing on my mind: Holly Nash.
I could still see her slender, incredibly long legs perched on top of those sky-high f.u.c.k me heels. The way her dress clung to her hips and showed off her tiny waist and powerful thighs was emblazoned in the forefront of my memory. I had spent most of the night thinking about them wrapped around my hips. Her perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their deep cleavage and long slender arms tipped with delicate unpolished fingers had ravaged my dreams. Her plump, rosy lips and soft, supple tongue had worked my shaft with expert precision as she stared up at me with her incredible hazel eyes. My hands had been fisted in her impossibly soft auburn hair and I was moments from watching her swallow my load when Preston had shaken me awake.
Running became increasingly difficult as more of my blood found its way from the brain in my head to the one between my legs.
Cold shower. I need a cold shower.
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