Page 82 of Rigid

“It’s relaxing. Music is like soap and water for the soul. I get home from a long day of riding, and I take a shower. If my hands get dirty out in the yard, I wash ‘em. What do we do to clean our insides, though? Nothing. I listen to music. Every song takes me somewhere different.” He glanced around the living room and nodded. “I like it.”

“I like it, too. What song is this?”

“It’s The Record Company. The song is On the Move.”

It was a bluesy song with a good beat and a cool harmonica solo. I imagined him fucking me while it played in the background, and got uncomfortably horny at the thought.

“Do you know the names of them all?”

“Most of them.”

Since I got pregnant, we hadn’t had sex. Being near Smokey for any length of time and not wanting to fuck him was impossible. Considering how caring he’d been, and how many times he’d snuck in an unsuspecting kiss, I couldn’t help but wonder why we hadn’t fucked since trying to make things work out.

I set my book on the coffee table. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Immersed in the music, he sat in his chair in a trance-like state and nodded lightly.

I went to the bedroom and got undressed. I chose a plaid skirt, knee-high socks, my Chucks, and a white button down shirt, then got dressed. Feeling good about my decision, I dug through my dresser drawer, found my black horn-rimmed glasses, and put them on.

I got to the door, peered into the living room, and noticed Smokey had gone into the kitchen. After a quick reconsideration, I changed my plans, ditched my panties, and tiptoed into the living room.

“Need anything while I’m in here?” he shouted.

“No, thank you.”

His focus was on the small can of almonds he was carrying, and he didn’t even notice me. He sat in his chair, poured a few almonds into his palm, and set the can aside.

“You know, these little fuckers are really good for you. They’ve got…” He looked up. “Jesus.”

“What?”

He swallowed heavily. “Goin’ somewhere?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He tossed a few of the almonds into his mouth. “What uhhm. Why’d you change?”

I shrugged. “I got tired of the sweats and tee shirt.”

He swallowed again.

I turned toward him and wagged my knees back and forth, slowly.

“I didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

“I don’t.”

He set the remaining almonds beside the tin and wiped his hand on the thigh of his jeans. “You are.”

Using the tip of my index finger, I pushed them up the bridge of my nose. “I just put ‘em on when I want to get noticed.”

His eyes fell to my feet, then slowly took in every inch of my outfit. He crossed his legs. “What. What about the uhhm.” He motioned toward the floor. “What about the socks?”

“They keep my legs warm.”

“Are you cold?”

I wagged my knees again, once. “No but I will be.”