Problem Child (Jane Doe #2) - Victoria Helen Stone Page 0,56
I’m making him feel funny things, but then he nods. “All right. But go slow and careful.”
“I definitely will.”
I climb just as slowly as I can make myself, glancing down to smile at Derrick past my ass. He smiles back and starts climbing too. Then I’m crawling out onto a gray metal floor before I pull myself to a standing position and tip my head back.
“Yes,” I hiss in delight. I can see up another thirty or forty feet now, and I’m thrilled.
Derrick pops up and stands with a lot more skill than I did, but I ignore that as I turn to take in the rest of the space. It’s not much. A few boxes of replacement parts, maybe, plus a bunch of cables snaking up the walls. There’s a big hole for the elevator in the high platform above us, but the area beyond it is dark.
I turn to smile my gratitude at Derrick. Now that we’re on a level surface, I see that my estimation is right. He’s about five-six or maybe a hair shorter, and he’s pretty fine-boned. Not ugly but not cute. Frankly, he’s just not noticeable at all.
“So . . . ,” he says, his cheeks reddening as he rubs his hands together. “Do I get a thank-you for the tour?”
“A thank-you?” I ask as if I’m confused. “Of course! Thank you so much. I’m having a great time.”
“Me too.” We smile at each other until his mouth wobbles into a twist. “I thought maybe . . .” He pauses, too self-conscious to say more, waiting for me to fill in the blank. But I’m not the type of girl to get worried and try to fix an uncomfortable silence, so I wait. And wait. Until he actually gestures to his groin with eyebrows raised.
I nearly burst out laughing, because it looks like he’s politely offering me a seat on his penis. Poor Derrick. He’s really not used to such a tawdry interaction, but he’s certainly willing to try.
And that’s when I see it. Not his penis, though it’s there. What I see is the right way to play this. I’ve been going for low-hanging fruit this whole time, and yes, I do mean genitals. But I can have my fun and play it safe for the sake of keeping Luke, and that will be a more challenging form of excitement.
Maybe I don’t have to settle down completely. Maybe I can have everything I want and not die of boredom.
Gasping over the noise of the turbine, I widen my eyes. “Did you think . . . ? I mean . . . I don’t know what to say, Derrick. I’m a good Baptist girl following Christ’s path. I’m saved! I can’t do . . . that . . . until I’m married. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Huh?” he croaks.
“Derrick, don’t you believe in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?”
“Of course I do! Of course!”
“Whew. Then you totally understand.”
He touches the front of his pants, cupping his erection, puzzlement sliding into grief on his face. “What?”
When I see the shape of his bent fingers and the mass behind it, my eyebrows fly high. Well. Now that he’s outlining the whole thing, this is quite the surprise. And, to be fair, he isn’t being aggressive. I’ll give him that. He hasn’t even called me a bitch yet. He just looks a little heartbroken. Poor guy, standing there politely with all that enormous expectation.
“Well,” I offer with shy reluctance, “I guess I could watch?”
“What?” That seems to be the only word he can force out at this point as he’s trying to process his grief.
I’ll have to spell it out. “I could watch you masturbate, Derrick. I mean, if you want me to.”
His lips part, jaw going slack before he shakes his head, his brow creasing into a deep V between unremarkable brown eyes. Another “What?” passes his lips.
“Would you want me to?”
“I . . . I’ve never done that.”
“You’ve never jerked off? Color me surprised. My mama always told me men had needs.”
“No, not that. I mean . . .” His face is beet red now but I can see his breath quickening. His eyelids growing heavy. He squeezes himself through his slacks. “Of course I’ve done that. Oh, Jesus Christ.”
“Exactly. I just can’t touch it, you know? I’d have to tell Pastor McAllistor, and how could I live with that? He’d think I was the worst kind of fallen woman. But if you do it by