The Job (9)

She was back in her groove. Despite a few worries that she’d be weirded out about being kissed by Keegan, he didn’t change his routine around her. Like at all. Oh, maybe a wink or a light touch on the arm as she passed, but that was the extent of it. She’d also gotten through the shivers after cleaning that bathroom. There had been no lingering worries; the bothersome presence of the woman she had discovered was named Fae, and the man who was, in her own mind at least, titled ‘Sir Asshat’ had both been banished from the club for the foreseeable future. Back to loving her job once more, she moved through another week.

She wasn’t miffed about his lack of attention. So what if Keegan didn’t seem to be thinking about The Kiss. She didn’t either. Nope. She didn’t have time to think about that mind-bending kiss. Well, maybe sometimes, but only in random moments like when she was scrubbing toilets, that was all. Did he mention that kiss? Nope. Not once. Did he try again? Nope. Obviously it was a pity kiss, and that was fine. Just dandy.

Lying to herself about that dratted kiss was starting to rankle. She scrubbed the floor with her mop with a sudden burst of ferocity. Fuck him. Fuck them all. Men.

“What’d that floor ever do to you, kitten?”

Great. Just fucking great. Of all the people to sneak up on her now. She refused to acknowledge him by turning.

“It’s called cleaning. It’s what I do, remember?” Dickhead, she finished silently.

“O-kaay. What’s got you in such a pissy snit this morning?”

She whirled, the strings of the mop swirling about and nearly hitting his shins. She dropped it and stalked up to him, poking that finger into his chest again.

“You. You give me pissy snit. So just….go. Go wherever you flit off to, you…man you.”

She stomped back to where her mop lay on the floor and snatched it up.

“You mean my kissing you last week? Or your response to it?”

“Just go.”  She growled.

When she looked back over her shoulder, he was gone.

“Fuck.” she muttered, and returned to scrubbing the floor with a vengeance.


“Damnest fuck of a thing. Seriously, she’s fucking deranged.”

Keegan paced around Jakob’s office.

“I go up to just check in with her, make sure she’s not getting the willies over cleaning that bathroom–”

“interesting word choice there–”

“you’re a fucking riot, J. So I go in and she’s scrubbing the floor–”

“Which I do pay her to do, Keege…”

“Will you shut the hell up and let me finish?” Keegan ran a hand through his hair, impatience sluicing off his every movement. “She’s scrubbing it like she’s pissed as hell, so I think maybe she’s having some sort of reaction to the whole thing, and when I ask her about it, she about throws her fucking mop at me and blames ME. Like…what the fuck did I do?”

“You kissed her, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, if I kissed you would that piss you off?”

“If you kissed me, after you picked your ass up off the floor, yeah, I’d be pissed. Unless, you know, you told me you liked me first. You know. Courted me a bit.”

Keegan stared at his friend for a long moment.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that, right?”

Jakob laughed so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. Pointing his finger at the man who was both employee and friend, he was gasping, on the verge of tears. Keegan continued to stare at him, but his lips were twitching.

“Shut up, you idiot!”

But a moment later the sheer ridiculousness struck him, and he too was laughing. The two howled like loons, until Keegan collapsed into a chair, begging for it to stop.

“Oh man…you have it so bad for her. Do you even realize how sunk you are? OH man.” Jakob wiped his eyes, then made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go…go work it out with her. Just…I can’t laugh anymore, I have a business to run.

He watched, still grinning, as Keegan shut the door, oh so quietly, behind him. Man, he thought again, you are fucking sunk.


He caught up to her outside her “office”. It was a large space, with a soak sink, built-in shelving for proper chemical storage, and a cabinet for all of her tools. There was even a small desk in the corner where she could maintain her inventory, keep cleaning logs, and stash her stuff. She’d settled down to ‘fuming’ from her flaming mad a while ago. No. She wasn’t going to let him make her crazy. She was an adult and responsible for her own reactions to people around her. And he wasn’t going to make her mad. A few deep breaths as she stowed away the last of her gear helped push away the ang…no. She wasn’t angry. She was just…well, there wasn’t one defining word really. There was just him. And her. And her total lack of reaction to him.

Slipping her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, she tugged her hair out of the collar, and slid a scarf around her throat. It was getting chilly out there, and the wind was biting. Slinging her small purse over her shoulder,  and stuffing her keys into her coat pocket, she opened her door to find Keegan there, fist raised as if to knock.

“Well Jezuz H!” She exclaimed, taking a quick step backwards in surprise. “What the fuck?”

He took a half-step back as well; her fist had come up in her surprise. The woman had good reflexes, he gave her credit for that.

“You don’t want to hit me with that.”

“To be sure, I do.”

“No, no you don’t because if you do, you’ll break your thumb with that grip. The thumb, tucked inside the fingers, becomes vulnerable. Lay it outside, like this.”

He stepped forward, taking her hand in his; her small hand was swallowed in his,  just as she was dwarfed by his height. Patiently he uncurled her fingers, and plucked out her thumb. Gently he re-curled her fingers, then placed her thumb along her fingernails.

“The thumb will hold your fingers together better, giving you more strength behind the blow, and won’t get broken this way. Plus, when you throw the punch, you kind of want to pivot your foot and hip a bit, use your pelvis as a fulcrum for the arm. That way your whole body will be behind the blow.”

“So if I hold my hand like this,” she tugged her fist from his, and flicked it in front of his nose, “and do this” …she pivoted on her foot and swung her arm and hip towards him, “then I can break your nose?”

“Well, you can try, kitten, but rest assured, you won’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

Where the sudden urge to play with  him had come from, she had no idea.

“Like this, big boy? Huh? Like this?”

She jabbed at him playfully, tapping his chin, his pec, his belly.

“Actually, I like this much better.”

The tone should have warned her, but she was riding high on the humor from tapping him a few times. In seconds he’d caught her wrist, twisted her arm around behind her and pressed her hard against his chest.

“Oh yeah, I do like this. Those nice tits of yours pressed against me like this? Mmmm.”


“Well, duh.” He rolled his eyes at her, and she giggled.

“You’re also a bastard. Now, what did you come banging on my door for?”

“Banging. Another thing I like…” Now he waggled his brows at her, making her laugh outright.

“Look perv-boy, I’m still mad at you. It’s not all about banging here, you know.”

His free hand snaked behind her, pulling her even closer. The hand then slid lower, grabbing her ass and giving it a very firm squeeze.

“True, vanilla girl, very true. Sometimes it’s all about that ass…”

“Perv. You need to let me go. I was about to leave.”

“Ahhh, but you see, you have to pay a toll now, a penalty for getting caught.”

“I think my ass just paid it.”

“Naah…that was just a little goody bag. Or maybe I should call it a booty bag. Anyway, the price for your freedom is a kiss. Just one. But a good one. Not one of those granny-style pecks on the lips. This has to be real.”

“It’s not “real” if you have to make me do it.”

Oh, he knew it would be real.

“Don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He turned his face into a sad little boy pout, and she giggled again.

“You know, I hate when you make me laugh when I’m mad at you.”

“You’re not really mad at me. You’re mad at you. Because you liked my incredible kissing skills–and frankly, what’s not to like, right?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your conceit knows no bounds.”

“I prefer to call it “confidence” rather than conceit. Conceit sounds so….conceited.”

“I’ll get you a thesaurus for Christmas,” she said, trying to not smile again.

“Is that a cousin to a Brontosaurus? I always wanted one as a kid. Where do you get the DNA for that?”

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his to stop the silly flow of words. His hands released hers, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down into her. She liked the taste of him, and traced her tongue over and around the lovely outline of his lips, before sliding it inside of his mouth. She experimented, played, tasted and explored his mouth. His moan did funny things to her, and she knew she was getting to him when she felt the rise of his cock against her belly, even through his jeans.

“I want you.”

He pulled his mouth away for a moment, to whisper in her ear.

“Not here, not now. But I want to feel you under me. I want to be inside of you. I want to eat you from your toes to your ears and all the bits in between. I want to squeeze your ass and your tits and suck your nipples and spend a day and a night and a day exploring you.

Say yes.”

Her eyes were huge, the intense blue of them something he could almost feel. Then he did something he’d never done with a woman before. He was a taker, sought out in the circles that he enjoyed frequenting. He liked to hit, liked to raise bruises on pale skin, enjoyed the cacophony of yelps and moans, the gasps of air.  He enjoyed women, used them, walked away. This time, things were different. This time he was not a taker, but taken. He kissed her nose, a tiny, gentle kiss, and spoke a single word.




15 thoughts on “The Job (9)

    1. thank you Hydra! And hopefully I will write enough pages to get you all through the holiday humps as I will have zero writing time after this week…


    1. Thank you Kayla! He’s pretty neat, isn’t he? I need to get cracking on the next few chapters while I have time today…the rest of the days up to Xmas are CRAYZEEEEEE! 😀


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