Page 37 of Cash

“I think the dress is too much. Too little, I mean. There’s not a time or a place that you can put it to good use.”

“I’ll wear it the next time he comes over.”

I couldn’t believe she said it out loud. Thinking about it was one thing, but saying it was another. If there wasn’t a girl code to address wearing undersized clothing in front of a woman’s sexual interest, there should be.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought. “It’s just some weird fascination you have. It’ll pass, no differently than the surfers you lusted after, and the businessmen that were before them.”

“No, this one’s going to last.”

I glared. “Since when?”

“Since I met Dolla Bill,” she said with a laugh. “Watching him walk gives me hot flashes.”

“It’s not him, it’s menopause.”

She gave me the stink eye. “It’s not menopause. He’s mysterious, and it makes me sweat.”

“He’s far from mysterious. He puts it all out there. There’s not much left to the imagination.”

“I was imagining being force-fucked by him last night,” she cooed. “Under the car port, of all places.”

I gave her a look. Enough was enough, and it was time I put my foot down.

I cleared my throat. “He’s off limits.”

“Settle down.” She glanced at the mirror, and then tugged against the hem of the dress. “I’m not even sure if it was him. It was a pretty weird dream, and it was hard to tell. Everything he was wearing made it seem like him, but he was faceless. I never got a good look at him.”

“So, it wasn’t him?”

“Hard to say. I don’t think so.”

“What’s it mean to be ‘force-fucked’?” I asked.

She took another admiring glance at her reflection. “Being fucked really hard.”

I was puzzled. “There’s a name for it? I thought that’s what adults did when they had sex.”

“No, really hard,” she said. “He was stuffing me so full of dick that we pushed his motorcycle from the carport to the fence. I was grabbing for something to hold on to, and he was fucking me so hard I couldn’t keep my footing. I’m not sure, but I think my feet were coming off the ground. Then, when the motorcycle tipped over, he didn’t even stop. Just smashed my face up against the fence and kept pounding away. Gas and oil were pouring out of it like mad.”

I chuckled a laugh. “A biker would stop and pick up his motorcycle. He’d never keep fucking after his bike tipped over. That’s how you know it was a bullshit dream.”

“Yeah. That, and it was raining. It never rains here.”

“Rain? You were doing it in the rain?”

She nodded. “Purple raindrops. I woke up drenched.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

She turned toward the dressing room. “I need to know if Dolla Bill has friends.”

“He’s got friends,” I said. “They ride up and down the block once a week.”

She pulled the door closed behind her. “I need to know if he’s got friends that are willing to force-fuck me under the carport.”

“I have no idea,” I said under my breath.

I didn’t want whatever I had with Cash to turn into nothing more than a fuck-fest. Having Jennifer offer no-holds-barred sex to his friends would do nothing but complicate matters. He’d undoubtedly expect the same from me.