"Mister Sam?" she said curiously as he opened the passenger side door and held it for her. “Why am I so horny all of a sudden?”
He stood over her holding the door. “I don’t know. Marie thinks it is everybody being so glad to be alive. She’s the expert. I’m just the unfulfilled-woman-seeking-missile she hurls at the world.”
The young lady was dismissive. “That can’t be. My boyfriend hasn’t touched me since The Day The World Stood Still. You should know. Marie just makes the appointments. You’re the one that actually understands women. I never felt hands like yours. You are so sensitive.”
Misha then reached out and touched his leg. “I’m still horny. But I feel like I’ll be okay as long as we’re close. You’ll make love to me again today, won’t you, Mister Sam?”
Good God, give me a break.
“Only so long as you stop calling my ‘Mister,’” he said, as he slammed the door and shook his head.
When he took his seat and looked to the right she was smiling at him with lazy, dreaming eyes, reaching out and caressing his leg through his slacks. “You have such strong legs, Sam. How did you get such strong legs?”
He started her up and put her in gear. As they pulled off and her hand still seemed to be asking the question, he answered, “Soccer. I ran and kicked for twenty years—where to?”
Misha answered with a sweet, sleepy voice, a voice that would melt a man, had melted him as worn and tired as he was.
How could her boyfriend not want her?
How could all but one of Marie’s clients scratch? She’s my nagging, bitching, domineering, pain-in-the-ass wife and I still want her. How can those old fat boys all be tired of her all of a sudden?
He looked at Misha as he hit the red light. She had not taken her eyes from his face or her hand from his thigh. She seemed to be in love.
She wasn’t a virgin.
She has a boyfriend.
She should not be this connected to me.
“What Sam,” she said, with languid eyes and a dreamy smile.
“My wife’s clients, why did they cancel?”
“None of them cancelled. They just did not show up. Miss Marie had me call up the Country Executive and ask him over for an early visit. He’s not due until tomorrow. She likes him. He’s handsome. This isn’t upsetting you, is it?”
She seemed apprehensive. “Oh, no, Marie and I are professionals.”
Her voice was sleepy and reaching as she grasped at his thigh longingly. “Do you have a favorite, Sam?”
She is falling for you.
Smooth this.
“I do now, Misha. I do now.”
She just sat and smiled wide-eyed at him, like he was too distant to touch, still, all the while grasping at his thigh with her tiny hand. The light turned green and he pulled off.
“Where to, Misha?”
Her hands were now undoing his slacks, her voice becoming husky, like a middle-aged woman who had been alone too long and was just a little drunk. “Mrs. Marsden, Hallowed Point Retirement Community—an old lady, such a waste.”
I’m glad this isn’t a midsized sedan or she’d be on my lap.
Change the subject.
“Misha, what about Lenny and Bruce; are they getting booked like this too?”
Misha was tugging at his thin black leather belt with her even, white teeth, her voice ever more husky. “No show, every appointment. She’s going to kick their asses if they ever call in. They haven’t answered any calls. You’re it, Sam, the last thing between us lonely girls and a lesbian apocalypse.”
This one is crazy too.
At least she doesn’t have brass doorknocker nipple rings and a penchant for strangulation...
