4

Screwing Around

The sun baked Drew’s back and shoulders with skin-tightening heat.

When last had he swam in his pool? Garden services came every Saturday morning to clean it — that and what was left of Juliet’s roses. Penny used to swim every weekend and most afternoons after school… but that had been years ago.

“Mr. Sugar?”

He opened his eyes. A slim hand appeared, holding a bottle of suntan lotion. He pushed himself to his elbows, squinting across at her.

“It’s been forever since I’ve gotten sun.” She turned around and pointed at her shoulders. “Don’t wanna peel.”

And she probably would, with her fair skin. Her arms were a few shades darker than the rest of her, but it was clear she didn’t often go outdoors. And the smattering of freckles on her reddening shoulders suggested that sunburn was only a few minutes away.

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” He sat up and took the bottle from her; he didn’t want her to peel, either.

Angel drew her mass of dark hair over one shoulder, smoothing it around her neck as she waited for him. They sat on a pair of deck chairs Drew had moved out from under the striped umbrella at Angel’s request. Seemed she’d been more interested in tanning than swimming — she’d encouraged him into the pool and then climbed out, ignoring his protests when he saw she wasn’t getting back in.

After her giggled comment about wanting to ‘watch him flex his muscles while she tanned,’ he’d gotten out too.

Angel grabbed the long-stemmed cocktail glass at her feet and shifted her shoulders, glancing at him over her mass of hair.

“You need this off?” she asked, twanging at the strap of her bikini top.

Drew flipped open the suntan lotion’s lid, dropping his gaze when he realized he’d been staring at her back without moving. “Not at all. I—I just—”

“Maybe I’d better.” Angel took a pull at her cocktail. “I don’t want streaks.”

She’d disappeared inside a few minutes ago to fix them both one, despite how many times he’d yelled after her that he didn’t want. Then she’d arrived with his and told him it was a virgin, with a smile and a parting of her lips like she’d wanted to add something but had changed her mind.

She set her glass on the paving stones.

He’d just squirted a line of glittering lotion onto her shoulders when she reached behind her and tugged loose her bikini top.

Drew started, his hand tightening involuntarily at the sight of her now completely bare back. A stream of lotion splattered onto her spine, and Angel arched her back with a small gasp.

“Damn, that’s cold.” She gave him an accusing stare over her shoulder. She shifted her shoulders. “Rub it in, would you? It feels like ice.”

He smeared lotion over her back. Feeling her shoulder blades under his fingertips, he ran his thumb over the rim of each. Her skin was soft, slippery with the lotion on it, warm. She sighed and pressed into his hands for a second before picking up her cocktail glass again.

“That feels amazing,” she murmured.

It did; too much.

Drew shifted in his seat, pausing in his work. He couldn’t keep doing this. If he carried on another minute, he’d have a hard on visible from the International Space Station.

He swiped his hands over the rest of her back, trying to ignore the thrill that ran up his arm as the nubs of her spine massaged his palms.

“There.” He patted her shoulder and hurriedly lay down on his stomach again. Maybe if he put all of his weight on his dick, it would deflate like a clown’s balloon animal.

Angel wore a pout when she twisted to face him. “Hey, why’d you stop?”

“I’m done.” He turned his face away, squeezing his eyes closed to try and force out the image of her breasts. Sure, her one arm had been draped across her nipples in an attempt at modesty, but she might as well have been naked for all the good it did his nether regions.

“I guess,” she said with a sigh. “You’re going red. Can I return the favor?”

He let out an involuntary gasp when a splash of ice-cold lotion splattered on the small of his back. “Jesus!” He started to sit up, remembered the girl was still goddamn naked, and hurriedly crashed onto his stomach again. “I’m fine, Angel. You don’t have to—”

A warm thigh pressed against his waist. His recliner creaked as she settled her weight beside him. “Scooch over, would you?”

He did so after a moment’s hesitation, eyes pressed closed and a litany of curses flowing through his mind.

What the hell was he doing? He had a barely-legal girl perched half-naked beside him, a boner that was going to lever him off his seat any minute now, and a mouth too dry for him to voice protest. He grabbed his cocktail, downed half of it, and put it back on the paving with enough force to crack the base.

For a moment, he wished there had been alcohol in it. Lots of alcohol.

“You all right there, Mr. Sugar?”

“It’s Drew,” he said.

“Drew?” Angel said, running his name through her mouth as if tasting it. “That’s a nice name.” Then she chuckled. “You don’t like it when I call you Mr. Sugar?”

“I just…” he squirmed until gentle fingers touched his back. “It sounds—”

“I kinda like it,” Angel murmured. Using just her fingertips, the girl began describing swirling patterns over his back. “Mr. Sugar.”

Goosebumps broke out like a rash on his skin.

He’d have to sleep out here tonight; that was how long it would take for his erection to subside. And just what the hell was he doing getting a boner from a massage? What in the name of everything good and proper in the world was wrong with him?

Her fingers dug into the muscles between his shoulder blades, forcing a groan from him.

“So… Are you seeing anyone, or do you just have eyes for that pretty neighbor lady?”

“I’m not seeing her,” he mumbled into his arms. “We’re just… friends.”

Cigarette smoke tainted the air. When had she had the time to light a smoke? He could have sworn she’d never taken her hands off him.

“You’re so tense, Mr. Sugar. You work too much, you know that?”

“How would you know?” It was so difficult to inject heat into his voice — her fingers worked him like he was a Christmas ham and she was determined to get every last bit of seasoning into him.

“You were working yesterday. You were working today. I’m pretty sure you’ll be working tomorrow. When do you take a break?”

“I’m taking one right now.”

“Not if I hadn’t made you.” Her fingers slid up the back of his neck, working on the tender muscles beside his spine. “Hey, ease up, would you? You’re making this much harder than it’s supposed to be.”

Drew forced his shoulders to relax. A massive, blustery sigh left him as his eyes drifted closed. “How long have you known Penny?”

“Wow. You really don’t remember me, do you?” Angel’s thumbs massaged the muscles on the top of his shoulders. “I’m offended, Mr. Sugar.”

“We’ve met?” Surely he would have remembered. If not her eyes, then at least her body.

“Me and Penny used to play together, seven, eight years ago. Then my mom moved us to Queens. Ended up in the same classroom at Steinhardt. Go figure, right?”

“Steinhardt?”

“Yup. Gonna be a nutrition consultant when I’m all grown up,” she said. “You know, for elementary schools. Make sure all those kids eat right. That or a cosmetologist, I haven’t quite decided.”

“What the hell’s a cosmetologist?” he murmured.

“Nails and makeup and stuff.”

“That’s not a career. That’s a job for half-wits who can’t do better.”

“Yeah?” Angel’s hands paused. “Like my mom?”

Drew opened his eyes, but at this angle, he could only see some of Angel’s dark hair before she shifted from his view. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Guess if she’d had money like you, she would’ve gone to university. If she hadn’t gotten knocked up, maybe. I definitely threw a wrench into the works.”

He tried to sit up, but she applied an insistent pressure to his back that kept him down. “Don’t work yourself up about it, Mr. Sugar. How were you supposed to know, right?”

“Right,” he replied quietly.

“But enough about me.” She used her knuckles to work out a knot from his right shoulder, just below his shoulder blade. “You been eying her for long?”

“Who?” he murmured.

“The neighbor lady.”

“I’m not eying her.”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Even if I am — which I’m not — she’s been eying me too.”

“Yeah? What makes you think that, Mr. Sugar?”

“She asked me over to her place on Wednesday. She’s having a thing for her birthday.”

“Oooh, swanky.”

Drew sighed, shifting a little under the girl’s magical fingers. “I’ll have to cancel.”

“How come?”

“Too busy. Brother’s gone and dumped a shit ton of paperwork on me this morning.”

“Hmmm… decisions, decisions. Paperwork or hanky-panky?” Angel began kneading the back of his neck. “You know, the paperwork will still be there in the morning.”

“I’m up for a promotion,” Drew said in a tight voice.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Soon like Wednesday soon?”

“Soon enough that falling behind means I won’t get it.”

Angel subsided at this and moved to working her knuckles into his lower back. “When did the neighbor lady move in?”

“Her name’s Kelly.” Why the hell did he sound so defensive? “A few months ago.”

Jesus, but the girl’s hands felt good. And at least his dick had finally realized it wasn’t getting any more action than a back rub; it had subsided into a sullen sulk.

Angel snorted softly. “Damn, Mr. Sugar. Sure took you long enough.”

“Been busy.”

“Working, right?”

He clenched his jaw and snatched up his cocktail from the ground. “Yeah, working. It’s what adults do when they’re done screwing around and decide to make something of their lives.”

Angel’s fingers retreated. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was studying him intently him with eyes the same shade as his half-empty glass, pulling at a cigarette.

“You’re right,” she said with a tiny shrug. Her bikini top was back on, too — was he losing time, or did she have another pair of hands hidden somewhere about her person? “I’m definitely still in the ‘screwing around’ phase. You might even say, the ‘fucking around’ phase.” Her voice wasn’t quiet and cute anymore — it was weighed with a cynicism ten years too old for her.

“What, you don’t have enough to keep you busy? From what I hear, Penny’s studying hours a day. When do you even find time to screw around?”

Angel shrugged again, giving him a sneer of a smile as she took a pull at her cigarette. “I hate studying. I prefer cramming.” She leaned forward, resting her palms on the deck chair. The new position did amazing things to her breasts, which attempted to escape the narrow confines of her bikini. “Know what I do the night before an exam?”

He managed a shake of his head.

“I order takeout, pizza usually, and get into bed wearing nothing but an old t-shirt. My Hello Kitty one.” She indicated the general location of Hello Kitty, which made him take another long look at her pendulous breasts before he could force his gaze away. “And then…”

She dropped her voice and leaned closer still. He glanced down at her, then back at her eyes, intently studying her face. She stopped when their lips were less than an inch apart, her blue eyes darting between his as her lips slowly parted.

“And then I cram as much shit into my tiny little brain as I can before passing out from sheer exhaustion.”

He looked away, cleared his throat, and made a vague gesture toward her cigarette. “Can I have one?”

Whatever mood had possessed her dissipated in an instant. “Sure, Mr. Sugar.” She batted her eyelashes at him and handed him a cigarette.

Which, it turned out, was one of his. He took a drag while he swung his legs over the chair, sitting with his back to Angel. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “For the smoke.” He lifted his empty glass. “And whatever the hell this was.”

“Leaving already?” she asked in a voice filled with wounded innocence when he got to his feet.

“Sure am.” Drew glanced at her over his shoulder “Got to go make something of my life, remember?”

He could feel the weight of her gaze on him as he strode back inside.