Page 245 of Devil’s Disciples

“Wait. What?” I stammered.

“Hold on just a minute while I grab my clothes.” His mouth formed a smug little smile. “I’ll go ahead and shower with you.”

Being in the shower with Porter would be a true test.

One I was sure to flunk.

92

Porter

Although I fantasized about having sex with Abby, I didn’t feel the need to act on those desires. The absence of sex left me at a loss for what I should be doing with our time. In the past, if I spent more than an hour with a girl it was because we were having sex. Consequently, the time I spent with women taught me very little about what to do with a woman if we weren’t having sex.

I had zero experience at being romantic but wanted to act in a manner that she found pleasing. More than anything, I wanted whatever Abby and I shared to be in complete contrast to the one-night-stands that defined the sexual experiences of my past.

The trip to Julian drew me even closer to Abby. A ray of hope now shined from her being. A hint that cancer didn’t always consume its victims. Some people beat deadly disease, and she stood as proof. I doubted I could defeat a brain tumor without medical attention, but I could always hope.

Filled with that hope, I began to inch my way into her life.

While Abby poured two glasses of wine, she confirmed my decision was a good one. “Truthfully, I’m glad you decided to let me shower alone.”

“I know me well enough to know I would have made achieving your goal difficult.”

She corked the bottle of wine and handed me a glass. “What goal?”

I lifted my wine glass. “Why’s this stuff pink?”

“It’s pink Moscato.” She sipped the wine. “What goal?”

I tasted the wine. The sweetness was such that I almost spit it out. I gave a taut smile and looked at the glass in disbelief. “Holy shit. This stuff’s sweet.”

“What. Goal?” she asked, her tone demanding.

“Not having sex.”

“Oh.” She gestured toward the living room. “That.”

Her home was along Mission Beach Boulevard on a corner lot that faced the ocean. I had no idea what it cost, but I knew it wasn’t cheap. If Tito’s opinion of her income was correct, I doubted she had any problems paying for it.

The floors were constructed of wide slats of gray hardwood. There weren’t many interior walls, but what was there was painted white. A winding staircase manufactured of steel and contrasting wood planks led to an upstairs loft, and the kitchen was filled with state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances.

Decorated in a colorful array of yellows, blues, reds, and greens, it looked like what I expected a beachfront condo to look like. Her furniture was a combination of leather and fabrics, all of which were contemporary in design. Personally, I felt most of it would be more suitable in an art studio than a home.

I meandered to one end of a pea green fabric sofa. It looked as uncomfortable as a concrete park bench. When I took a seat, I was surprised by the comfort. “Damn.” I pressed my palm against the cushion. “This thing’s comfortable.”

She took a seat at the left end of the same piece of furniture. “I think everything in here is comfortable.”

“That weird-looking chair I sat in earlier was,” I admitted.

She looked at the chair. “It’s not weird-looking, it’s ergonomic.”

While her attention was elsewhere, I admired her. Dressed in a pair of cut-off sweat shorts and a tattered white tee shirt that said mermaid on the front and off-duty on the back, she looked adorable. While she took a drink of her wine, I noticed her nipples were as hard as rocks.

Normally attracted to girls with curvy asses and huge boobs, it seemed strange to be so physically drawn to Abby. She was petite, short, and had boobs that may not have filled a “B” cup bra. Nonetheless, her looks alone sucked me in like a vortex.

Noticing her hard nipples started me on a rapid downslide. Knowing I’d be trying to hide a hard on if I continued to look at her, I shifted my eyes to the white leather chair. It was low in the front, high at the knees, low in the seat, and then curved upward again.

“It’s shaped like a backward ‘S’,” I said. “It’s weird-looking.”