Chasing Vivi(8)

By: A.M. Hargrove

“But that boss of hers is creepy. He looked like he wanted to eat her.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” I was too busy wanting to eat her up myself. Like tongue her pussy until she is dripping wet and screaming my name, and then suck her tits, turning her nipples into rock hard diamonds. I’d give anything to see her stretched out naked on my bed right now …

“ … that’s what.”

“What did you say?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Um, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. My dick is painfully stiff from my filthy thoughts. I’m going to have to adjust myself in a minute. My balls feel like they’re on fire. “Hey, you’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“If you don’t start acting right, I will.” She stares me down with laser point precision.

The waiter takes our order and brings our beverages.

“Fuck me, Lynn.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. You’re a bit young for my taste and besides, I’m happily married. The bottom line is you’re a mess, Prescott. If you don’t do something about it and turn your life around, you’ll end up worse off than that asshole father of yours.”

My cheeks rattle as I blow out a breath. “Okay. Message received. Just promise me you won’t run off and leave me with some silly temp who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground. Please?”

“No promises until you get things under control. That sexy smile of yours might have worked on me thirty years ago, but now you’re like a son to me and I’m seriously worried about you. You don’t have a spare ounce of fat on you, you work like a group of demons are chasing you, and every day you smell like the bottom of the barrel you swam in the night before. Clean it up—and fast.” Her stern, no nonsense voice lets me know this is not a test.

“It’s a deal.” I hold out my hand for her to shake. And she does. I hope like fuck I can keep the damn promise. If I lose Lynn, my ass is fucking toast, without the butter and jelly.

Chapter 3


Over two weeks pass and I don’t call Prescott. Weirdly enough, I’m a bit surprised he never contacts me. The way he acted that day in the coffee shop and then when he saw me at lunch, I was pretty confident he’d be back. Even Vince says he usually shows up at least twice a week for coffee. Maybe he decided I’m not up to his usual cream of the crop female standard. He always did go after the finest, like all those rich girls at Crestview. Not that I would’ve ever agreed to go out with him, but I’d be a big fat liar if I said it hadn’t boosted my ego a bit.

This job is so mundane that thinking about Prescott is a nice distraction. The new software program is running, all the glitches are fixed, and I’m wrapping up my work at this particular shop. Vince and I decide to celebrate that night by grabbing a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant. It’s a pub he enjoys because it’s on the cheap side and they serve great beers.

“They even have daily specials that don’t rob you. A lot of NYU students hang out there sometimes.”

“Cool, I’m in. Let’s go right after we close, if that’s okay with you.”

The coffee shop closes at seven, although Joe is debating on expanding the hours to ten. He’s looking into it, now that the new programming is near completion. Just the other day he mentioned he’d need the extra income to help cover the added costs of it and me.

Vince is talking, but I’m not paying attention. “Hey, you. Did you hear me?”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Yeah, I was talking about how starved I am and about Joe and his idea about staying open until ten. I’m not sure about that. He likes us to work these long shifts, but as a part-time student, I couldn’t handle staying here that late.”

“Hmm. I guess that won’t work for a lot of the employees. But we’ll see,” I absent-mindedly answer.

“So, what’s up with you and Joe? Every time he’s around you these days, he acts like he’s afraid of you.”

“What do you mean?”

Vince laughs. “Come on, Vivi. You must’ve noticed it. He asks your permission to do just about everything.”

I’m shoving my laptop into my messenger bag and look up at him when he says that. “He does not.”

“He most certainly does. He acts like your personal lap dog.”

That cracks me up. Greasy-haired Joe—a lap dog. “So, just for shits and giggles, what breed would you classify him as?”

Vince is wiping down the last table. “When I was a kid, our neighbor had this squatty, mean as hell bulldog. That dog was the worst animal ever. He barked all the time and would drive us crazy. When the guy finally moved away we were so relieved. That’s who Joe reminds me of—an annoying-as-fuck bulldog. And the weird thing is I have a bulldog now who is the coolest pet in the world.”

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