Balling the Jack by Frank Baldwin

Author:Frank Baldwin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-05-04T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I WAKE to a fight in the kitchen.

Seems Molly sent Mike for low-fat bagels and he came back with regular. “Aw, come on, honey—just this once couldn’t hurt.” I hear the door close behind him. Must have been a hell of a look.

That’s right, I’m at home. Six hours ago I was set to put an end to my longest drought since I first drank from the big well. This morning I’m still bone-dry, and the way it played out makes me either man of the year or the biggest sap in town. You tell me.

At Samantha’s floor I was for hitting the emergency button and finishing what we started. She nixed that idea sweetly though, so I let her down, aching the way a guy does when he stops halfway home. She was barely hanging in there herself, her face flushed, her hands unsteady with the keys. At her door she kept smoothing her skirt and looking up at me. I could see she was new to this.

Once inside she kissed me, then turned out of my arms and took me by the hand to the living room. In a hot whisper she said, “I’ll be in the second room down the hall, Tom. Wait ten minutes, then come.”

You want to talk about a woody—I almost had to ice myself down. It’s been six months since I’ve been laid right and four since I had any at all. I can’t watch a girl step out of a cab without breaking into a sweat. And there I was, nine minutes away. I walked to the kitchen. I couldn’t find any beer, so I walked to the living room again and stood looking out the window. A boxer in his corner before round one, so mad to get started I could barely wait for the bell.

After a few more minutes I stepped into the hallway. Samantha’s blouse lay on the floor, five feet from her door. Her skirt lay two feet from it, her tights a foot away, and her bra hung on the knob. I felt the soft cotton with my fingers. I put my head on the door a second, said a word of thanks, and opened her up.

Convince me heaven looks half that good and I’ll come back to the fold. Samantha lay on her quilt wearing just a blindfold, her wrists resting above her head, a white silk scarf tied round each one. Jesus and then some. I’ve always been pretty straight up and down in the sack, but this I could go for. I walked to the bed and looked down at her pale Irish skin, so beautiful in the dark. I looped the scarves gently around the headboard and pulled them tight, and the sounds she made as I did almost set me off then and there. I sat on the bed and ran a hand down her leg.

“Say something in Gaelic,” I said. She murmured a few dreamy words and I knew this first session would be a quick one and would have to start right away.

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