CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set) (74 page)

“Every damned one was as good as the last. And they’s a runnin’ and a playin’ and having fun, and livin’ life to the fullest. Hell, they can’t imagine livin’ without each other. These two ain’t a fightin’ or a fussin’. Not even once. They’s meant to be in the eyes of all who see ‘em, and in God’s eyes too. So, God bless her soul, the lady gets cancer and she dies, Jak. After twenty years. Now would that twenty-year relationship be better’n that fifty year one where the man was a drunken snake?” he raised his cigar to his lips and bit on the plastic tip.

“I suppose it would, yes,” I smiled and nodded.

“Quality, Jak. Not quantity. That’s gonna be today’s lesson. I like that,” he said through his teeth.

“I like it too, thanks Oscar.”

“I ain’t done yet,” he growled lightly.

I shrugged, “What else you got, old man?”

He shook his head and pulled the cigar from his mouth, “Love Jak. A man once told me love was blind. You know what? He was damned sure right. Love don’t see a damned thing. Not
real
love. It don’t see color, or religion, neighborhoods, poverty or wealth. Hell, it don’t even see age differences for that matter. Real love just snaps into place. You ever had that black old heart of yours broke, Jak?”

I considered his question. I had, but felt no need to discuss details. A simple
yes
should suffice.

“Yes sir,” I responded.

He turned to the workbench and picked up his coffee cup. As he turned around, he smiled. Slowly, he walked in front of me with the cup held at his side. When he was about ten feet in front of me, he stopped and lifted the cup to his chest. As he raised one eyebrow and opened his eyes in a comical fashion, he dropped it on the concrete floor. The porcelain cup shattered in countless pieces on the floor. Shocked, I looked up. Oscar smiled.

“Now if I give you that pile of busted shit off the floor and a tube of glue out of my cabinet, you thinkin’ you can fix it where I’d never know it was broke?”

I shook my head and laughed, “No sir.”

“You consider yourself pretty able, don’t ya?” he asked as he began to scoop the pieces into a pile with his boot.

I smiled and nodded my head, “Yes sir.”

“Well, as able as you are, you couldn’t fix this sum bitch no how. You might get it put back together best you could, and it’d look like a cup; but there’s gonna be some pieces you can’t find, and there’s gonna be some others just don’t make good sense. You know the ones you look at in about eleventeen different directions and they just look like they belong to a different cup,” he looked up from the floor and raised the cigar to his lips.

“You see my point?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I smiled.

“Well, that cup’s your heart, Jak. That’s what happens when someone busts you up good inside. You end up with a bunch of pieces you did your best with, and they make a heart, but it ain’t quite right. That fucker’d leak coffee on your trousers if you tried to fill her up. Now, to fix it, and it can be fixed; it sure can,” he paused and reached into his pocket.

He pulled out his lighter and lit the cigar. After a few short puffs, he blew a cloud of sweet smoke into the air and grinned, “You need one of them filler glues. The ones that go into each and every crack and crevice. That shit fills holes you can’t even see.”

He puffed on the cigar and blew another cloud of smoke in the air.

“Love Jak. Love is the filler glue. It’s why when you love someone, nothin’ else matters. Because the woman you’re in love with fills all of the broken parts inside of you, even the ones you don’t see.”

He shook his cigar at my face as he spoke, “When you
think
you love someone, and you ain’t sure, you got nothin’ more than a leaky old cup. That’s why you question the love. Because you got some pieces missin’ and some leaky holes. Me? I’m thinkin’ little ole Miss Karter’s done filled your holes right up. She’s filled your old busted heart with love, an’ you ain’t leakin’ anymore.”

I smiled and looked down at the broken cup. Oscar had an odd way of making his point, but he seemed to do so in a manner I would always be able to remember.

Oscar tapped the tip of the cigar against his lip and closed his eyes. At this point, I knew him well enough to know he was thinking about something, and he wasn’t quite done talking. As he opened his eyes, he puffed his cigar. 

“Let me ask you a question, Jak. I know ain’t none of us lookin’ to get in a discussion about it, but I’ll make it’s as easy as a yes or no. You thought about the war since you an’ Miss Karter got together? You remembered any of the faces of them men ya killed, Jak?”

The three days before I met Karter were filled with doubt, regret, and feelings of worthlessness. I felt depressed and alone. Since meeting her, I had not thought about the war one single time. My thoughts, and my
only
thoughts, had been about her or our potential future together. Thoughts and feelings of her had filled me to the point there was no room for anything else. 

“Haven’t thought about it once,” I responded.

He turned to face his work bench and blew a cloud of smoke into the air, “Go climb that tree Jak.”

“Thanks Oscar. I’ll be seeing you.”

Not if I see you first.

“Not if I see you first,” he laughed. 

KARTER.
“This is it?” I laughed as I motioned around the sparsely furnished apartment.

Jak’s apartment looked like someone was either almost moved out or thinking about beginning to move in. One small couch, a chair, and a wooden trunk which was used for an end table were the extent of the furnishings in the apartment. I slowly spun in a circle and scanned from floor to the high ceilings. Not one picture, photograph, painting, or piece of art hung on the walls. Jak stood half the distance between the door and the carpeted living area and watched me. I walked to the bedroom door and peered inside. A queen size bed with a plain white comforter was pressed against the center of the far wall. White pillows cases covered two pillows. A five drawer chest was positioned perfectly between the bed and the wall.

Two on the couch, and one in the chair, that’s it. Three people, not including the bedroom.

“Are you going to bring in more stuff?” I asked as I turned from the bedroom.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he shrugged.

“You don’t even have a table or chairs. There’s no art, no decorative flair, no plants, no lamps, no real sign of life, and no,” I paused as shook my head.

“It’s empty. You have an empty apartment,” I laughed.

“I have all I need right here,” he smiled as he motioned around the apartment.

“I beg to differ,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

My apartment looked like an eclectic collection of junk. It was no different than my mind – cluttered. I had too much furniture, far too many pieces of art, too much decorative bullshit, and too little room. Being in Jak’s apartment reminded me of a hospital room. Only the barest of necessities existed. For Jak and Jak’s way of living for the last twenty years, I’m sure he felt it was enough. Jak still hadn’t offered to tell me what his occupation was, and although I knew, I had yet to ask him. I figured in time he’d tell me, but so far he hadn’t. In the last month with Jak, I had become more comfortable with him knowing my age. Part of me hesitated to tell him for fear of not knowing what his response may be. Another part of me wanted to tell him and get it over with. I decided to do two things; make a donation to Jak’s empty apartment and go fishing for answers.

“So, I’m thinking I want to paint you a picture. What are your favorite colors?” I asked as I walked his direction.

“On a painting? I’d say reds and purples. Maybe yellow,” he smiled.

I pointed at the far wall. It was roughly thirty feet in length, probably sixteen feet tall and free of any form of decoration, “Okay, I’m going to paint you a picture of me. A huge fucker - that way even if we aren’t together, you can have me with you every night. What do you think of that?”

“I like it,” he grinned.

Okay, one down one to go.

I smiled and took a slow absorbing look over the empty apartment for effect.

How can you live like this?

Do you like living like this?

How long have you lived like this?

“How long have you lived like this?” I asked.

“I’ve been here roughly a month,” he responded.

I should have guessed he’d give evasive answers and provide nothing of substance. His super-secret SEAL training probably prevented him from naturally offering anything. But he wasn’t talking to a novice. I could squeeze blood from a turnip.

“So have you always lived like this?” I sighed as I waved my arm in a circle.

He nodded his head, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”

Jesus Jak. Seriously?

I scrunched my nose and shook my head lightly, “What allows a man to live like this?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Men are different than women. I’ve learned to be satisfied with far less than most.”

Learned to?

Okay…

“How’d you
learn
to, Jak? How does one learn to enjoy or be satisfied with less?”

He looked around the apartment as if satisfied, “Over time, I suppose. I’ve lived like this for my entire adult life.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. Trying to force Jak to talk about something he wasn’t willing or ready to discuss would be impossible. Hell, from what I had read on the internet, he was trained to withhold information even if he was tortured by terrorists. My simple questions weren’t going to trick him into offering something he guarded as a secret. I decided a simpler more direct route may work to my benefit.

“What do you think could pull us apart?” I asked.

“Pull us apart? End our relationship?” he asked.

I nodded my head and turned toward the couch. As I walked away from him, he followed close behind.

“I don’t know. Why would you ask such a thing?” he asked as he sat down on the end of the couch.

“Just wondering,” I responded as I sat down beside him.

“Infidelity I suppose. To be completely honest, I don’t know if I could make it through you cheating on me. I’d say that’s it. Same question to you?” he said as he leaned against the arm of the couch.

“If you cheated on me I might leave you. I’m not giving you a free pass, but I’d probably eventually get over it if you fucked someone else. I can’t say for sure if I’d leave you or not. Truthfully Jak, I really can’t imagine ever being without you. The more I’m with you, the more I realize being without you isn’t really an option. Well,
that
and I like fucking you,” I smiled.

He rolled his eyes and grinned, revealing his dimples.

“So if I told you some crazy deep dark secret or revealed something about me you didn’t know, you don’t think it’s possible you’d freak out and say
damn, I never would have guessed that
, and decide it’s just too much? You know? And leave?” I shrugged.

The more I talked, the more I wanted to be totally honest and reveal my age. I didn’t want to take the risk if I wasn’t comfortable, and I preferred Jak say something to make me comfortable. I was ready to rid myself of all the secrets between us and continue a life together without wonder. Well, almost all the secrets, anyway.

He shook his head, “Not a chance.”

“None whatsoever?” I asked.

“Nope,” he smiled.

I stared into my lap, “I’m twenty-one years old, Jak.”

“I know,” he responded.

You know?

You cocksucker. What did you do? Investigate me? Pull some SEAL background investigation on me? And you don’t care? You love me anyway? Get undressed Jak, let’s celebrate with sex.

I turned to face him, “You knew?”

He nodded his head and smiled a soft smile, “Right after we met, we were eating in the place on Rock.
Adrian’s.
It was the day the guy about hit you on your bike. You said your age.”

I crossed my arms and exhaled loudly, “I most certainly did not.”

Jak looked down at the floor for a moment, shifted his gaze to meet mine, and smiled his shitty little smirk, “I can’t make it dry. Not around you. Nope. Just less wet. So Jak, now I’m
twenty-one years old
and I’ve had my first wet pussy. You want to secure a place in my heart? Alrighty then. You can check that box. You did that a long time ago
.
”

Holy shit, he’s right. And he’s obviously going to remember every word I ever say. Note to self - be careful what you tell Jak.

“I guess I did,” I sighed.

I raised my eyebrows and half-smiled, “You don’t care?”

He bit his lip and shook his head from side-to-side, “Not in the least.”

Well, if he knows I’m twenty-one, and he doesn’t care, we’re going to be just fine. I know his age and I don’t give a fuck. He knows his age and he doesn’t give a fuck. All that’s left is him becoming comfortable with me knowing his age.

“How old are you, Jak?”

Shit. I wish I hadn’t…

“Thirty-eight,” he responded flatly.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I’m thirty-eight, and I just retired from the Navy after a little more than twenty years. I have no idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my life as far as a career goes, but for now I’m satisfied doing what I’m doing. I don’t
need
to work, but I feel I should.”

“You were sailor?” I asked.

That should get him riled up, calling him a simple sailor.

He nodded his head sharply.

Damn, Jak. Modest much?

I turned my body to face him and pushed my feet under his thighs, “Well, I wouldn’t care if you were twenty-one or fifty-one. I’m in love with you, and not because I chose to be. It’s like the moment I met you, someone flipped a switch and changed everything within me. It just happened. I’d call it destiny, but really? There’s no such thing. I know when we’re together, my mind feels at ease. I’ve spent my entire life frantic, and I didn’t know why. I think I was looking, searching…”

“For?” he asked.

I pushed my feet further under his thigh, “You, I guess. I think I’ve spent my life frantically searching for you.”

“You ever want to get married?” he asked.

Do I ever want to get married?

My mind raced. I would marry Jak in a minute. His question was more rhetoric than anything. He was asking if I
believed
in marriage. If it was something I’d consider in the future. Marriage, to me, was nothing more than a piece of paper. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d love to be married to Jak someday. The thought filled me with warmth.

“I’d love to be married someday,” I responded proudly.

Jak looked down into his lap as if embarrassed, “I was married seventeen years ago. For about six months. I was deployed and when I came home she was with another man. I filed for divorce and haven’t been with anyone since.”

I sat up in my seat and smiled, “Not a single relationship? Seventeen years?”

“Not an
anything
. I haven’t been with a woman from the day I walked out until now. Not one,” he shook his head and sighed.

“Not at all? No blowjobs in Japan or Asian fuck swings in Taiwan?” I laughed.

“No. I’ve been celibate, only masturbation,” he chuckled as he stroked his hand over his crotch jokingly.

No sex? Holy shit. And after seventeen years, he picked me?

Immediately I felt privileged and extremely comfortable with Jak and I being a couple. It wasn’t so much an uncomfortable feeling I felt before, but now I felt as if together we could conquer the world. Over the last month, sex with Jak had become more comfortable for me. Each time we had sex, I became a little more adventurous and less like a little girl who was falling deeper into some fairly tale version of love. Fucking Jak was the icing on the cake of our relationship.

“I have a short term and a long term request,” I smiled as I pulled my feet from under his thigh.

He grinned and nodded once, “Let’s hear it.”

I scooted across the small couch and wrapped my arms around his neck, “Long term? One day I want to be your wife.”

He smiled and kissed my lips lightly, “Great. I want that as well.”

“Short term? This place creeps me out. Let’s walk over to my loft and fuck. I like it when you fuck me,” I batted my eyes and waited for a response.

“I like fucking you,” he smiled.

“Okay, let’s go. I’m ready,” I stood from the couch and grinned, “hopefully your old ass won’t have a heart attack on the way over there.”

He stood from the couch and raised one eyebrow, “Say again? Did you call me old?”

I looked down at his boots smiled. I glanced at my Chuck’s. There was no way he could outrun me in boots. No way. I needed to make a quick exit. I glanced toward the door and made sure I had a clear shot.

“They say the hearing is the first sign of old age,” I paused and grinned.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed, “Hopefully your old ass won’t have a heart attack on the way over there.”

And I took off in a dead run toward the door. Hopefully when he caught me, if he caught me, he’d grudge fuck me and teach me a lesson about respect.

A girl can always reserve hope.