Corrupting Chastity - Krista Wolf Page 0,44

a smile.

“My phone’s been ringing,” Ander shrugged. “I just haven’t taken those calls lately. Been focusing more on other stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like scurrying like a rat between three different gyms,” smiled Brett, as he needled his roommate. “Sometimes for clients that don’t even show up.”

I glanced back at Ander. “Clients?”

He nodded, still chewing. “I’m a personal trainer. I do hour-long sessions at all different places, depending on the date and time.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” I said admiringly.

“It would be if the gyms weren’t such fuckups,” Ander growled. “Half of them won’t let me make appointments directly, I have to go through them. They usually screw up a date or a time, and I end up going there for no reason or I miss out on training sessions because their booking systems suck.”

“Funny,” I said. “I was working on an exercise system called Train Direct. “It linked trainers directly to people looking to hire them, plus it had meal-plan spreadsheets, a calorie counter, a nutrition-based forum…”

Ander put down his fork. “That doesn’t sound funny, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” I said wistfully. “It was.”

“What happened to it?”

“The project stalled because my colleagues insisted on linking a peer-to-peer video system to the entire product,” I explained. “I warned them other companies bigger than ours were already working on that. That we should just go with Skype, or Zoom, or whatever it took to get people connected with an outside piece of software. But no,” I shook my head. “They didn’t want to pay those licenses. They wanted control of everything.”

“And so you missed your window,” said Brett, understanding everything in greater detail. “Your product was obsolete before you brought it to market.”

I grunted bitterly. “It was obsolete before we even finished it. Which we really didn’t.”

The anger inside me was rising, so I directed my attention elsewhere. I dug into my eggs, and together we finished breakfast. Ander called first shower, and Brett didn’t fight him on it. While they were throwing their plates away, I headed to the sink to clean up.

“She’s alright,” Ander nodded my way, on his way through into the hallway. He laughed and winked. “Maybe we’ll keep her.”

“Maybe don’t use all the hot water this time,” Brett warned.

I washed the pans, and Brett dried them. Somewhere in the back of the house the shower kicked on, leaving the two of us alone.

“So what time am I coming over tonight?”

So bold, I thought to myself. So straightforward too, and unlike any of the guys I’d dated before.

So refreshing.

“Tonight, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Dinner or no dinner?” I asked.

“Dinner. I’ll bring it.”

His biceps flexed as he ran the dishtowel in tight circles over the last pan. I wanted to peel his shirt off and see the rest, sweat or no sweat.

“Then be at my place at six,” I said. “Any later and I’ll be starving.”

“Shoot me your address then,” Brett said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your place.”

I stepped back to the table and reached for my phone, still without taking my eyes off him.

“And don’t worry,” he added with a wry grin. “You’ll definitely be getting fed.”

Thirty-Five

CHASTITY

“You’re running out of Rupees!” I exclaimed from my couch. “If you don’t catch it soon, you’re gonna have to go back and—”

“No way,” Brett protested. He held the joystick firmly in both hands, tilting it forward. “I got this.”

He’d arrived promptly at six, with some of the best Chinese food I’d ever put in my mouth. Our feast consisted of boneless spare ribs, black pepper chicken, and two crunchy egg rolls. Forgoing the waters he brought with him, we washed it down with a couple of imported beers I had in the back of my fridge.

After that, I gave him the grand tour.

Brett was much more impressed by my place than Senan had been, and that’s because he appreciated my many little shrines to geekdom. I had sci-fi movie posters, professionally framed. Shelves of limited-edition figurines for all different comic book universes, some of them exclusive to Comic Con only. There were my Harry Potter bookends. My scale replica of the Sulaco. A few more subtle nods to different genres were peppered throughout my decor, but somehow Brett found them all.

Eventually, our bellies full, we finally curled up on the couch. He’d invited himself here under the pretense of playing Legend of Zelda, but I expected it was simply an excuse to get into my shorts. Which, since getting the green light from Senan, was more than fine with me.

Right now, however… he was actually playing Legend of