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Jay laughs. “So we can do that again?” he teases.
I shrug. “I mean… you’re not too bad.” I glance at his still gleaming cock, remembering the pleasure he was giving me just moments before.
“Not too bad. I don’t know what to think of that. But sure… I’ll give you my number.” Jay leans forward, his warm breath hitting my ear. “And anything else you want.”
CHAPTER 3
JAY
Iwake up in the morning with a smile on my face. I know Violet is the reason for it. Part of me is sure that I must have imagined what happened between us, but when I arrive at the bar at eleven a.m., the table and chairs where I laid her down are still out of place. I straighten them, grinning the whole time.
It’s only an hour later when I realize that I gave Violet my number, but she didn’t give me hers. Everything is in her hands because she has my number and knows where I work, whereas I know nothing about where she’s staying or how to get in touch with her.
I don’t even know why she’s back in town.
I imagine asking my sister if I can have her high school best friend’s phone number so I can feel her up again. Yeah, not a good idea. I don’t know what Hannah would think about the fact that Violet and I slept together… and that I’m still thinking about it. But I’ve never cared about getting my little sister’s approval, and I’m not about to start right now.
Just as the bar is starting to open up, and my early afternoon server comes in, I get a text from an unknown number. I hear my phone buzz, but don’t check it for a good ten minutes as I get some fries going for the customers who pretend they came here to eat a meal.
When I do check to see why my phone vibrated, I suck in my breath as I read the simple message over two times.
This is Violet. Do you have a minute to talk?
My mind jumps to all sorts of reasons that she could want to talk to me after last night. The first reason that pops into my head is that she has some sort of STD, and she figures I should know. But wouldn’t she have known that last night?
She would have told me before I stuck myself in her without a rubber. I’m confident about that, but not enough to dispel the worry completely. Maybe she just wants to get laid again and doesn’t realize that being the owner of The Rusty Oak means that I work more than the average Joe.
I set my phone on the counter and check on the fries as they sizzle in the bubbling grease. The salty smell makes my mouth water.
Then, I attend to my two customers to see if they need anything before turning back to my phone.
Finally, after what feels like a long time, but has only actually been six minutes, I tap out a reply.
Me
What about?
Violet
A job.
I blow air out after reading her short response. None of the flirtatiousness and cute banter is there from last night. I wonder if she is one of those people who just doesn’t text a lot or if she was putting on some sort of front last night. Maybe it had been a while since she had gotten laid, and she was desperate.
I think about Violet and her red hair bouncing around The Rusty Oak, greeting customers that I know by name as though they are newbies. I don’t know what sort of resume she has or if she even knows the difference between basic IPAs.
The idea of Violet working here intrigues me, and I can't deny that the thought of having her around more often is appealing. But I need to be professional about this. I can’t hire all the women I’ve fucked, it could create a hostile working environment for myself.
The mental picture of various girlfriends and one-night stands I’ve had throughout my life grabbing forks and coming after me makes me laugh.
“You okay?” Harold, one of my regulars, asks.
“Just laughing at the way life has treated me,” I tell him.
I finally type out a response to Violet.
Me
Sure. Come by this afternoon around four. We can talk about it.
