JACOB

 

“What’s the matter, Miss Stone? Did you break a nail or something?” I shout, half-curious to see what's got her panties in a twist.

She starts walking closer then, waving a small piece of paper.

“The boat guy left me a note saying I need to find my own way as he had to run back, and if that wasn’t enough, I think I also broke my phone. It slipped from my hands, fell onto a rock, and then landed into a mud puddle. The screen is cracked, and it won't turn on. How am I supposed to get back now, huh?”

I shrug, almost sympathizing with her predicament.

“Yes, I remember how Tom's wife was due with twins any day now. I’m afraid that's what messed up your carefully laid plans. Looks like you got yourself in a pickle, young lady.”

“That's not very helpful, Mr. Broussard.” She frowns while looking around, and I adjust myself when she glances down at her darkened screen again. “Can I please use your phone to call him? Surely, you must have his number.”

I look at her fumbling with her purse as if she’ll find the answer to her problems there.

“I would gladly let you use my phone,” I say cheerfully, watching her features relax and she stops searching inside her bag. “If I had one,” I add a moment later and she just glares at me as if she’s ready to attack.

“What? How do you even —” she starts, then shrugs, deciding to leave her sentence hanging, her thoughts probably not as entertaining as mine are at this very moment.

“I can put you up for the night,” I offer, immediately regaining her attention. “Only, I won’t do it for free.”

“Well, it figures! And what is it you’d like in return? A flash of my tits? A sniff of my panties?”

I stare at her, holding back a smile. I’m itching to see the look on her face when I tell her exactly what’s on my mind.

“Don’t be silly, Miss Stone. I want something far more tainted,” I say in as clear a voice as I can. “I want you under me.”

And just like I imagined, her expression is priceless.

“Is that your attempt at being funny, Mr. Broussard? Seriously?”

“I’m dead serious, Miss Stone. Maybe you should have thought real hard before walking into a lion’s den looking like a sheep ready for slaughter.”

She stays put, not taking a step closer.

“Oh, please. I am not a sheep, and you are not a lion, and this kind of talk makes no sense. All I want is to get back to civilization. How hard is that?”

“I'd say it’s pretty damn hard, Miss Stone. You can check for yourself if you like,” I say, rubbing my palm across my erection.

“Agh! You are despicable!”

I watch, fascinated as she abruptly turns on her heel and starts walking toward the swamp, hands waving back and forth.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, little girl? This isn’t Central Park. There are creatures lurking in the Bayou a city girl like yourself has no idea about.”

She stops and turns back to look at me, her eyes shooting daggers.

“Frankly, I’m surprised you care what might happen to me! Why don’t you go back to your miserable little life and forget I was even here? I merely asked for a place to crash for the night!”

“And I merely asked for a pity fuck in return, princess. Or am I too old for you? I bet you only fuck boys your age, clean and proper, am I right? I bet you've never fucked a real man, have you?”

My voice carries across the desolate scenery, and I thank God for the absence of any curious neighbors. She takes a single step closer, her temper making her even more ravishing.

“I’m not intimidated by you, Mr. Broussard. I’d rather take my chances out in the swamp in the middle of a heatwave than stay here and spend the night with you. I’m surprised you didn’t jump me already. Ever heard of a thing called subtlety?”

I continue to stare at her, wondering if she’s actually going to walk away. “I tell it like it is, ma chérie. Got no time to beat around the bush.”

“Well, dream on!”

“Good luck to you, then. I sure hope you’re not on your period 'cause the gators can smell blood a mile away.” I laugh as she stomps off, undeterred by my warnings. I take a few steps back towards my front door and reach inside to grab an umbrella from the hook near the door. “Wait up,” I shout out.

She turns, curious, and I throw her the umbrella that she fails to catch, landing in the nearby shrubbery. “Don’t expect me to come after you. I’m not exactly in a position to carry your ass if something should happen.”

She bends down to grab the umbrella and swiftly turns away from me, her unceremonious departure hitting me like a brick in the gut.

I hate to admit it, but she’s feisty, and I love that in a woman.

I love her spirit. Her grit. This wild, fearless creature who's come looking for answers, and found a debauched, self-pitying loner instead.