Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) (37 page)

He could beg off right now – bad stomach or something equally lame – and avoid the situation altogether.  Or maybe he was kidding himself, creating this whole conundrum when sex was the furthest thing from Cristin’s mind.  After all, hadn’t she made a point of saying “no strings” last week?

He was still vacillating as they stepped into her third-floor apartment a few minutes later.

“I’ve been here only a couple of months so I’m still decorating,” she said.

Compared to Jack’s place it looked like a designer showroom.  She had real curtains on the windows instead of room darkener shades, her couch looked first-hand instead of third or fourth.  And she had art on the walls.

“Name your poison,” she said as she opened a cabinet in the tiny kitchen.

“What’ve you got?”

While her back was turned, he removed the SOB holster and wrapped it in the blazer.

“Cuervo Gold.”

He’d never been a tequila fan.  In margaritas, sure, but the few shooters he’d done had left a burning tongue but no burning desire for more.

“What else?”

“I’m looking.  Got some Cuervo Gold, and some Cuervo Gold, and let’s see… oh, here’s some Cuervo Gold.”

He laughed.  “I’ll let you choose.”

She turned and stared hard, as if studying him.  “Judging from the look of you, I peg you as a Cuervo Gold type.”

“Straight up?”

“The only way.”

He’d never had that particular brand.  Steely Dan’s “Hey, Nineteen” drifted through his head. 
Cuervo Gold… make tonight a wonderful thing…

He really should go.

But he stayed and wandered to one of the framed pieces on her walls.  It ran about three feet tall and two wide.  From afar he’d thought it some kind of abstract, but close up he realized it was a sketch of a dress.  The woman in the dress was almost a stick figure, barely recognizable as human, let alone female.  The dress was the focus.  He moved on to the next – different dress, same focus.  Same with the third.  He bent closer and realized they were originals on slightly wrinkled sketch paper.

“Did you do these?”

“Yes,” she said, close behind him.  “Like them?”

As he turned she pressed an elongated shooter glass filled with golden fluid into his hand.  She was close.  Very close.

“I do like them,” he said.  “I have no way to judge them as far as fashion design, but I think it’s cool you’ve got your own work on your own walls.”

“They’re okay,” she said, slipping past him and staring at the third.  “I did them at FIT and had them lying around.  I needed something for the walls so I figured, why not?  Something different.  Better than a Seurat print or Matisse that nine zillion other folks have.  So I had a few framed and now I’m the only person in the whole world with Ott originals on her walls.”

Jack felt a toast was required.  He raised his glass.

“To the artist!”

She grinned.  “I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked glasses and tossed back the Cuervo.  It burned just a little going down, but left a soft and surprisingly pleasant aftertaste.  Nothing like the harsh tequilas he’d had in the past.

“Not bad,” he said, staring at the glass.  “Not bad at all.”

She lifted the bottle from a nearby table and poured them another, saying, “This isn’t shooter tequila.  This is almost like sipping whiskey.”

He took a sip and let it roll around his tongue.  He could get used to this stuff.

He looked around.  “Nice place.  Looks like you’ve got a pretty good life for a college dropout.”

“Drop-
down
,” she said.  “I’m still taking a few credits.  And as for this place, I’d love to buy it.  They’re asking only ninety-five thousand.”

Seemed like a lot to Jack.

“ ‘Only’?”

“I could probably get them down to ninety.”

“Still pricey, if you ask me.”

“City real estate is going to go through the roof, Jack.”

He didn’t want to ask flat out how an FIT dropout – or dropdown – knew this.  So he opted for…

“Based on…?”

“My clients.  I arrange events for CEO’s families and companies and they all tell me to put any spare money I’ve got into real estate here in the city.”

Real estate… that was for real people, with real identities.  Not for him.

“So what’s holding you back?  Money?”

“You betcha.  But I’m putting away all I can for the down payment.  I’ll get there.”

Jack couldn’t help but think of Julio’s need for a down payment.  Maybe the combination of that plus the tequila caused him to blurt out, “I can lend you the money.” 

She laughed.  “I know you said the tips were good, but they can’t be
that
good.”

Oh, right.  He was supposed to be a deliveryman.  And then he remembered the Mikulskis’ warning about keeping that money out of circulation. 

“I’ve got savings from my previous life.”

She gave her head an emphatic shake.  “Thanks, but no way I can take money from you.”

He hid his relief with a hurt look.  “What’s wrong with my money?  Just a loan.”

Still shaking her head – had she and Julio taken lessons together?

“No strings, remember?  A loan is a string.”

“But you’d be getting a mortgage from a bank.  That’s a loan.  That’s a string.”

“Not the kind of string I’m talking about.  A bank’s an
institution
.  You’re a person.  No strings, no strings, no strings.”  

“I get it.”

“Good.”  She finished her second tequila and put the glass down.  “Now let’s fuck.”

Jack blinked.  Did she just say…?

“Um, what?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Like bunnies.  Or, if you prefer, ‘Have sex.’ ”  She stepped close and began unbuttoning his shirt.  “Notice, I didn’t say ‘Make love.’  Because we’re not in love.  We may be in ‘like’ but we’re not in love.  Love would mean strings, a relationship, and neither of us want that.”

Inanely, through all the sudden turmoil in his bloodstream and in his brain, he mentally corrected her:
wants
that.

He gripped her wrists as she opened a second button.

“You’ve had a lot to drink.”

She smiled.  “And you think I’ll regret this in the morning.  Aw, that’s sweet.  But I haven’t and I won’t.”  She twisted her wrists free and began working on the third button.  “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Which is?”

“Getting ready to fuck your brains out and hoping you’ll reciprocate.”

“Cristin…”

“Just pure physical need and want, Jack.  Don’t make any more of it than that.  I like you.  I find you attractive.  So, unless you find me repulsive…”  Her hand trailed down to his zipper and gave a gentle squeeze to the growing hardness there.  She smiled.  “Apparently you don’t.  So then, I’m going to pleasure you and you’re going to pleasure me.  Nothing more.  Fair enough?”

She gave him another squeeze.  That did it.  It had been too long a time, too many nights alone.

His voice sounded like a croak.  “Fair enough.”    

She took his hand and pulled him toward her bedroom.

“Follow me.”

7

“So if we’re not making love, are we making like?  I’ve never made like.”

“Then this will be a new experience for you.  And I guarantee something.”

“What?”

“You’re going to
like
it.  Comfy?”

“Yeah, but it’s awful dark in here.”

“I like it dark.  Am I rushing this too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Sometimes I just want to get to it, you know.”

“You won't hear me complain.  But there’s this strange sensation of a weight on my chest.”

“That’s my butt.  Are you telling me I’m fat?”

“No way.”

“Then get used to it…it’s gonna be there awhile.  Now take your hand and – yes!”

“Mmmm, you’re wet.”

“I should be… been hoping all week we’d end up here.”

“Like slick silk.”

“Right there.  That’s the spot.”

“You like that?”

“Yesssss…now stop talking.  This is
my
time and I know you can find better things to do with your tongue.  Aaaaah!  You do!  That’s it… that’s it… find the little pearl… there!  Now the fingers, don’t forget the fingers.  Right there.  Gimme!  Gimme!  Gimme!  Gimmeeeeeeee!”

8

“How’re you doing?” she said, her breath warm against his chest.

They’d untangled the sheets and now lay stretched out on the bed, Cristin snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, a thigh draped across his groin.

“Wiped out.”

She giggled.  “Good.  Then my work here is done.”

No lie.  He felt physically drained.  But emotionally… strange.  It had been over sooner than he would have wished.  And he’d never expected the evening to turn out like this.

“I wanted to last longer but, well, it’s been a long time.”

“It’s okay.  I came four times.”

She was counting?  Well, why not?  She knew what she wanted and she’d definitely been in charge, even to the point of slipping a condom on him.  When he’d questioned her, she’d whispered,
“I play it safe… and it’s got ridges.
 
I loooove ridges.”

Did she ever.

He pouted.  “Only once for me.”

“Well, your tongue-fu is verrrry strong.”

“You are an excellent teacher.”

She laughed.  “Seriously, though, you haven’t been getting any?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, man, I’d go craaaazy!”

“I’m not very good with pickup lines.  Never have been.”

“You don’t really need them in this town.  ‘Wanna fuck?’ is often enough.”

He shook his head.  “Somehow I don’t see me saying that.”

“You can say it to me.  Anytime you want.  I mean, I like sex, you know.”

Jack laughed.  “Really?  I never would have guessed.”

“Seriously.  I discovered that in junior high school when I gave myself my first orgasm.  I didn’t have the nerve to get it on with a guy until well into high school, and that was even better.  At least most of the time.  So many guys, so little time.”

Jack remembered now how Cristin had gained quite the reputation by senior year.

“It just came back to me: Hot-to-trot Ott.”

She smiled.  “That was me.  I did most of the football team.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Well, varsity first string, anyway.  All except Tommy Lampman.  Turned out he was gay.”

“No way!”

“Way.  Way gay.  You know who else was gay?  Sheila McKim.”

“But she was dating that jock, Warner.”

“And he wasn’t getting any.”

“How do you – oh, wait.  Him too?”

“No.  Her.”

Jack rose onto an elbow and stared at her.  “You and
Sheila
?”

She nodded.  “We got assigned to a science project together – she told me later that she’d finagled me as a partner – and one night we’re working on it at her house and her folks are out and she starts playing footsy with me and, well, one thing led to another and…”  She shrugged.  “She was my first girl.”

“
First
?”

She glanced away.  “There’ve been others.”

“So you’re telling me you’re bi?”

“I don’t look at it that way.  The queers make it all so political and go around labeling everybody.  I… like…
sex
.  I like getting it on and I loooove getting off.  The sex of the other person doesn’t matter so much as long as I like them.  I could use a little more Cuervo.  You?”

The change of subject caught him by surprise.  He laughed.  “After hearing about you and Sheila McKim, yeah.  A double.”  

She rolled out of bed and strolled away.  As he fully appreciated the curves of her body, he couldn’t help envisioning Cristin and Sheila going at it.  The images caused a little stir down below.  She returned with the bottle, completely nonchalant about her nakedness. 

“Did you have that body in high school?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and poured a shot. “Pretty much.”

“You hid it well.”

“Just ’cause you’re the school slut doesn’t mean you have to look the part.”

Jack didn’t like to hear her talk about herself that way.  “Don’t call yourself that.”

She shrugged.  “It’s just a word.”

Holding the shooter glass, she reclined on the bed.

“We’re sharing?”

“Uh huh.”

She poured some onto her belly, filling her navel. 

“That’s yours.”

He looked at her.  “Seriously?”  He put on a disgusted face.  “What if you’ve got lint?”

She giggled.  “Don’t make me laugh.  You’ll spill it.”  And sure enough, some of it tricked down over her left flank.  “And after where your tongue has been tonight, you’re going to worry about a little belly-button lint?”

“Point taken.”

He leaned over her and slurped the tequila.  She squirmed as he licked the residue from her navel. 

“That tickles.  Now my turn.”

As she rolled him onto his back and pushed the sheet down to his hips, Jack did a quick check of his navel.  No lint.  He’d showered just a few hours ago, but who knew where that stuff came from anyway?

She poured the rest of the shot and licked.  It did tickle.  She lifted the sheet and took a peek at him. 

“Ooh, I think you’ll be ready again reeeeal soon.”

He had no doubt of that.

She rested her head on his abdomen and looked at him. “Your fuck drought is over.  We’ll be fuck buddies – as long as you want.  Just don’t get attached.”

He thought about that.  Her vivaciousness, her in-your-face approach to sex and life in general were so refreshing… he might get attached.

“You never get attached?”

She lifted her head.  “Nah.  I’m too young to get involved with anyone.  Plenty of time for that.  Guys are the problem.  They get all territorial and possessive.  A couple of bouts in the bedroom and they think they can’t live without you and you can’t live without them.  Wroooong!  They get all worked up when you tell them it’s over.  A guy in my first year at FIT beat me up when I broke it off.  Said it wasn’t over till he said it was over.”

A surge of anger cooled Jack’s afterglow.  “Did you report him?”

“No.  I didn’t want the attention.”