Page 591 of Summer Heat
The abrupt, unmistakable sound of heavy work boots clomping past the trailer outside swiftly rips us back to reality.
We jump apart.
I look from the unlocked door of the trailer to my open jeans, currently displaying my now thoroughly soaked fruit of the day panties.
Jason’s eyes follow mine, and he quickly reaches out to redo my zipper before I can.
Oh, my god.
What if we’d gotten caught?
His expression hardens as if the same thought is occurring to him as well. “Jesus, Summer. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
“No, don’t apologize. I wanted you to…do that.” I feel my face reddening at how true that last statement was. “It wasn’t all you. Believe me.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
Maybe if I told him that was my first non-solo orgasm?
His cell phone chirps before I can share that revealing bit of info.
“Shit.” He checks his phone. “I’ve got an investor’s meeting I have to get to downtown.”
Downtown, as in where his big corporate office with his name on it is…one of four in the world just like it.
A loud window-rattling knock on the door echoes through the trailer, and we both turn to see the plumbing foreman rush in. “Summer, we’ve got a situation with a super old septic system that wasn’t properly filled before the land was rezoned. The foundation is crap. No pun intended. Because of where it was situated, guess the previous owner thought it was okay to ignore it. But we can’t. This is definitely a sinkhole hazard.”
And that would be my wakeup call from the universe.
“I’ll be right there, Frank.”
Jason touches my elbow gently the second Frank is gone. “Summer…”
He’s going to apologize again. And the thought of that is just too much to bear right now.
“Look,” I say, “You have to go, and Frank’s waiting for me. We’ll talk later, okay? Promise.”
Right on cue, his phone chimes another alert. He hesitates, but eventually nods and heads out the door without another word.
As I take a minute to make sure my clothes are all back in order before I exit the trailer, all I can think about is how this right here is the sort of thing my mom has done my entire life.
She hated hard work. Chose instead to get through life trading sex for the basic necessities that most folks simply got a job for—a fact I’d known from far too young an age. And worst of all, she was proud of it. Proud that she could use her body to advance her way in life.
I never wanted to be her.
And look at me now. Logically, I know it’s not the same, but it doesn’t make the situation sit any better in my stomach.
Story of my life.
More cruel than fair at times, and downright messed-up at other times.
As I hop in the site golf cart with Frank, I force myself to focus on my long list of things to do for the rest of today instead of my long list of ways my life has gotten screwed up in the past.
I’m grateful to have the former be longer than the latter for a change.
13
| JASON |
