New Business

(Mason)

The sun was getting ready to set and the lights were on in the pool. The lights changed color every few seconds. It was only a matter of time before people came home from their shit jobs and justify their shit lives by swimming in the pool.

For me, I was looking at a beautiful woman as she dipped her toe into the water as though she expected it to be cold.

Not in this weather, though. Living that beautiful west coast kind of life, a short ride to the beach, where seasons were marked on a calendar and left for others to deal with.

“Come on,” I said.

“And you’ll do it too?”

“Abby, do I look like a liar to you?”

I grinned, knowing those cute cut dimples are showing. Everything about me screams wrong, bad, run-home-to-Daddy. But when I smiled, the dimples were like a sliver of a reminder of innocence. I used to hate those fucking dimples, but I quickly realized that no matter how much I lifted weights or how big and strong I got, the dimples would forever remain. So I created myself into this monster… with boyish dimples.

And the women ate that shit up.

Abby grabbed her hair and pulled it back. Her big tits pulled back, gently bouncing in her bikini top. Don’t worry, I’d already fucked her a few times. Rolling around in the sheets of a hotel room, making them dirty and sticky, just the way I liked it. She cried like a baby and her nails were like daggers in my back. Just another notch on the belt and a memory in the mind.

“Fine,” she said. “But as soon as I go, you go.”

“That’s how we work, babe,” I said with a wink.

I was at least nice enough to women to wait for their pleasure before my own. Then again, bringing a woman to orgasm was almost too easy. I had perfected the art, finding their secrets within seconds, exploring with my fingers, tongue, and my dick. With a dick like I had though, it wasn’t all that hard. Yeah, the first thrust was a little tricky, but after that, there was no escaping it. If I fucked you, you were going to come.

Abby bit her lip and smiled at me.

I met her in a club. She was dancing with her arms in the air, drink in one hand. I walked up behind her and slipped my hands around her body. She looked back at me, a look of shock on her face. I made my intentions very clear when I put my lips to her ear.

I’m going to make you hate me, babe…

And I always kept true to my word.

Abby reached back and opened the back of her top. She slid it forward and let it fall to the ground. She covered her tits with her arm though, still looking around.

“Keep going,” I said. “Don’t let me down, babe.”

She moved her hand and her tits were there in all their glory. Right against the sunset. She stripped the bottoms down, showing off her smooth body.

Goddamn.

She turned, showing me her slender back and small yet firm ass. I personally would have preferred something with a little more to hold onto and play with. But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to marry Abby. I wasn’t going to fall in love. She wasn’t going to get a key to my apartment. Fuck… I didn’t even like her that much. She was a good fuck and her lips tasted sweet when she drank some fruity cocktails.

Tonight - I was done with her.

She dove into the water, just like I wanted her to do.

She popped up and moved the hair out of her face. Her tits floated in front of her.

I stepped to the edge of the water and stared down at her.

I was in my black boots, jeans, a black t-shirt. On the back at the top was the logo to my custom motorcycle shop.

I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.

Abby thought I was doing that because I was going to jump into the pool. To be fair, I told her I would.

I pointed the phone at the pool.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I have a meeting,” I said.

“What?”

“Some new business.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Abby covered her tits.

Oh, now you have some grace…

I smiled. “What did you think this was?”

“You said…”

“I said you were going to hate me. Babe, this isn’t even my apartment building.”

“What?” she yelled.

“So I guess taking a picture isn’t okay with you?”

“Fuck yourself, Mason,” she yelled. “I fucking hate you.”

And there it was.

I took a small bow and then hooked her bikini with the tip of my right boot. I swung my foot and kicked the top and bottom into the water.

I kept my phone in my hand. I wasn’t going to take a picture of her naked. No need for that. I had the memory locked in my mind. I could just shut my eyes and picture her on her hands and knees, reaching back, sliding her fingers in and out of herself.

What I was doing was gently sliding my finger across the screen, texting Hunter, letting him know I’d be there in a few.

Abby splashed to her bikini and then splashed water at me.

I guess it was better than getting slapped across the face.

I turned and walked away.

“I fucking hate you, Mason. You’re a piece of shit.”

Sticks and stones…

I gave a quick wave as I smiled.

Playtime was over (for now).

It was time to do some business.

* * *

“This is what he was thinking,” Hunter said as he opened a folder on my desk.

Hunter was my righthand man, my best friend, the closest thing I had to a brother. When I decided to avoid jail time and open a business, Hunter was the only one who didn’t laugh at me. Well, he did laugh at me, but after I socked him in the jaw, he said he’d help me.

And now here we were, running RN Custom Rides, making tons of money, living something that resembled a dream.

“That’s quite the fleet,” I said as I mulled over the long line of motorcycles.

“He wants to start with two and then go from there.”

“And who the fuck is this guy?”

“Some investor,” Hunter said. “Wall Street guy that got bounced around during the recession. I guess he ate up a bunch of property cheap and then flipped it all. Cashed out in the millions and is now living his own dream.”

“Millions, huh?” I asked.

“That’s what you heard. Money.”

“What are my two favorite things, Hunter?”

“Money, pussy, and beer,” he said, winking, knowing my list was always three things.

I shut the folder and stood up. “I guess I should go meet him, huh?”

“Hey, Mason. He’s, uh, you know, a businessman.”

“And?”

“You’re in jeans and a t-shirt.”

“So?”

“You know…”

“I should wear a suit? As I try to sell my services as a motorcycle guy?”

“Not a suit,” Hunter said.

I waved Hunter off. “Don’t worry about it. If this guy wants the best, he’s got it right here. If not, fuck him. How’s your father?”

“Changing the subject?”

“I always ask about your father.”

“I always say the same thing,” Hunter said.

“So we just keep bullshitting each other then.”

“Exactly. I’m going to go check on some orders and close up. I’ll be down at Petey’s watching the hockey game.”

“I’ll be at some fucking restaurant, selling my soul for money.”

“Good luck, brother.”

“Same to you,” I said.

Hunter was like me. At least when it came to women. Attachment was an extension of attraction and that shit was what put men into suburban houses with white fences and leases on minivans. Fighting with the lawnmower on a Saturday, waiting to drink beer and watch some chick flick, only after putting their kids to bed.

All that shit passed by a long time ago for me.

Hunter shut the office door. I looked around. The place was crawling with some of the custom work I had done. Some of the craziest looking rides in the world. There wasn’t a challenge I wouldn’t take on.

I pushed back in my chair and opened my desk drawer. There was a bottle of whiskey and a mirror. My fingers grazed the bottle of whiskey and I skipped it. I grabbed the mirror instead. I propped it up on my desk and looked around as though someone could see me through the walls.

Slowly, I pulled up my shirt.

No, I wasn’t doing it to check out my muscles. I did that when women were sliding their hands up and down my body for the first time, smirking at them, knowing damn well that with each second of touching their panties were getting wetter and more twisted up into their sweet slits.

I pulled my shirt to my chin. It looked like I was flashing the mirror.

Across my heart was a tattoo.

A date.

I ran my right hand across the ink as if it were bubbly, which it wasn’t.

It was a small tattoo, but a big goddamn reminder.

Another reason why I’d never settle with a woman.

I had my one shot… and it got all fucked up.