Love Me Not Read online

  Love Me Not

  Villette Snowe

  Published 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-104-7

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2014, Villette Snowe. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Heath is an Ivy League graduate, a published writer, and a widower. He’s also a gigolo. After his wife’s infidelity and suicide, he lost himself in sex with other women.

  When he meets Kimber, he struggles against his feelings for her, but eventually accepts that he’s fallen in love. But Heath’s sister tells her how he makes money, and Kimber leaves. Heath turns his back on his sister and his clients and struggles with the urge to follow in his dead wife’s footsteps. He settles on a compromise, a one-year deadline. If he doesn’t feel he can move on with life after one year, he’ll allow himself to end it. Will Kimber realize the honesty of his feelings and forgive him in time?

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth

  I sat alone in my room, waiting for Penny to bring a woman to me. She always brought me someone at this time in the morning.

  I wished my room had windows. At least the fireplace, albeit some unvented flueless thing with fake logs, was nice. I supposed it was romantic. Women paid for romance, not just sex.

  For me, it was just sex.

  This was all my life was about. It used to be perfect. Penny handled all the details, set up a room for me in the back of her shop, and brought me women to screw. They wanted to be screwed, and they didn’t want anything more from me than that. Life was perfect.

  I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  A knock, and the door opened.

  I stood from the bed. I hoped it was someone pretty today. It was much more enjoyable when I could look at her face and slide my hands over her skin without being turned off.

  Elizabeth walked in.

  I smiled. I liked Elizabeth. She was a nice woman, and I had the feeling her husband wasn’t very interested in her. I liked making her feel good.

  I walked over, closed the door, and took her hand. “How are you, Elizabeth?”

  Even after all the times we’d been together, her smile was a little bashful. That was cute. Too bad she was married and almost twenty years older than me.

  Damn, Heath, what in the hell are you thinking? You want to get involved with one of these women? Are you insane? Lately, I’d been starting to believe I was just that—fucking nuts. Maybe it was my turning thirty that brought it out. I just hoped I didn’t go schizo like Mom. But then I supposed a psych ward wouldn’t be all that different from this, just no silk sheets and fireplaces. I’d probably still screw around. It’s all I knew anymore.

  I led Elizabeth over to the bed. “How long do we have?” Which was my polite way of asking how long did she pay for.

  “I have to leave at 11:30. School’s only a half day today.”

  She had a daughter who was a senior in high school. She showed me her picture once.

  I leaned closer and brushed my lips against her neck—she always smelled nice, something musky. “What would you like today?”

  “Uh…” she said with a sigh.

  I loved that I still had this effect on her, on all of them.

  My hands smoothed down her silk blouse and started unbuttoning. Her breathing heaved her breasts out of her bra. She still had nice breasts, decent body in general. She told me once that she swims several miles a day.

  “Cunnilingus perhaps?” I whispered in her ear.

  “Fellatio.”

  While kissing her shoulder, I unhooked her bra. “Mmm, sounds fun.”

  “Strip for me.”

  She was finally starting to feel comfortable enough to ask me to do things.

  I stepped back, into the light from the fireplace, and pulled my shirt off over my head. Then I slowly unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.

  As Elizabeth moved closer, she dropped her bra and skirt on the floor. Part of what I liked about Elizabeth was that I could get hard by simply looking at her.

  Her hands trailed across my shoulders and down my chest. She pulled my jeans down as she kneeled.

  Her tongue was warm.

  I rested my hand on her hair and watched. Oral sex sometimes felt more honest. She had lovely full lips, used to speak, to kiss, to smile, and now to lavish attention on me. Fuck, she was good at this.

  “Mmm,” she murmured.

  She rested her hands on my thighs.

  I liked when she got like this, lost in the experience. She wasn’t self-conscious anymore. She was an insanely good fuck when she wasn’t self-conscious.

  She looked up at me.

  I lowered to my knees, pulled my hand through her hair, and kissed her. Without breaking the kiss, I slipped on a condom, and then I lifted her onto my lap and slid myself into her. She moaned.

  She held on to me and screeched my name until she couldn’t seem to phrase it anymore. There was nothing coherent left, nothing rational. We were just two bodies coming together for pleasure. It was nice. I didn’t have to think, to worry if I was doing the right thing. It seemed so simple.

  And she was enjoying herself. I liked when she clung to me, when she moaned. I knew I was wiping away all her stress, all her fears and worries. She didn’t talk much about it, but I knew her life was difficult. This was the best way I could help her, my friend.

  Her back arched, and her head leaned back. I could feel her orgasm begin.

  “Heath,” she said with a sigh. “Oh God.”

  I kept the same rhythm and made her orgasm last. We had time for only one. I wanted to make it good.

  She screeched something incoherent. She sounded like she could hardly breathe.

  I grunted.

  Finally, we slowed and then stopped. I held her close to me, and she rested her head on my shoulder.

  I stroked my hand down her hair. “That was very enjoyable.”

  She sighed contentedly.

  “Do you feel better now?”

  She sat up and looked at me.

  “You come here when you’re stressed,” I said.

  She smiled a little. “You always make me feel better.”

  “Good.”

  Still smiling, she stood, slowly pulling away. My penis flopped down against my thigh. It wasn’t hard anymore but still full size. It was a few inches shy of reaching down to my knee. I’d been told by several women I was impressively large. I didn’t really know.

  “You’re lovely, you know,” I said as I watched her dress.

  She hooked her bra. “Always the charmer.”

  “I don’t need to be charming.”

  She looked at me up and down. “That’s true.”

  I grinned.

  “But you know those pretty eyes won’t always get you what you want.”

  “Pretty?” I said in an offended tone.

  “Don’t tell me no one’s told you that.” Then she added, “It’s your lashes I think that does it.”

  I’d been told that. One woman in particular used to say it all the time. I slapped a fake charming grin on my face.

  “Are you not going to get dressed?” she said.

&
nbsp; “I’m watching you.”

  She rolled her eyes and pulled on her blouse.

  Besides, what was the point of dressing when I had to take a shower as soon as she was gone? I had to get her scent off me before the next woman came.

  She buttoned her blouse.

  “Elizabeth…”

  She stopped and looked over at me.

  “Does your husband treat you well?” I said.

  She just looked at me. Sometimes we talked a little when we were done, the only one of them I actually talked to, but this was one subject we never touched on. I waited for an answer. I worried about her, one of the few people I considered a friend.

  “He, um…” She continued buttoning. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “But you would tell me if you needed help?”

  “I live in an $800,000 house and drive a Jaguar. What would I need help with?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  She finished buttoning. “You don’t need to worry, not about me.” She moved closer and kneeled on the floor in front of me. “You’re a good man, you know.”

  No one had ever said that to me before.

  She touched my cheek. “I know something’s hurt you.”

  I couldn’t look away.

  “I want you to relax when we’re together,” she said. “Don’t think about anything else. Don’t worry about me.” She leaned closer and wrapped her arms around me.

  I hugged her back.

  “You’re my friend,” she murmured.

  I held tighter.

  Then she pulled back and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” She stood and walked across the room and then out the door.

  I sat there, still on my knees, and glanced at the clock. Eleven forty-five. Penny was going to be pissed.

  Chapter 2

  Cassie

  A couple hours later, Penny got her chance to harp on me. Her precious schedule had been thrown off for the whole morning after I kept Elizabeth over.

  “Why do you do that?” Penny said. “You know how tight your time is some days.”

  I slipped on my shoes. “We were talking.”

  “Talking about what?”

  I didn’t answer. Penny wouldn’t understand. We never used to have that problem before. I wanted to blame her for the change, but I knew it was me.

  “You just do what you’re supposed to do,” she said, “then get them the hell out.”

  She was always so fucking concerned about my not getting to know any of my clients. The only reason I could think for her excessive attitude was the money. If I did them and got them out, I had time to screw one more.

  I stood and moved toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” she said.

  “For a walk.” I walked out, down the hall, and out the back. The metal door clanged loudly behind me.

  I thought about hotwiring her car again and going for a spin. She’d finally replaced her Toyota, had finally listened to me that she needed something better. I liked to see her driving something nicer, and the Mercedes was definitely nice. And I liked even more that the income I brought in could help her have something nice, something safer. In the end, I decided to walk rather than ride.

  It was Friday night, and the mall was packed. It was one of those outdoor pretentious shopping experiences. I shopped at Target, not fucking Brooks Brothers, and I didn’t need music pumping out of speakers in the shrubbery, gas street lamps, and fancy storefronts.

  I passed the Maggiano’s outdoor dining area. Jane was there with her husband and son. The waiters sang “Happy Birthday,” and her son blew out his ten candles. She smiled at her husband. The guy had to be at least sixty.

  Jane was one of my regulars.

  I kept walking and didn’t acknowledge her. That was the unwritten rule. Or maybe it was written. Penny liked rules.

  A few girls walking by glanced at me, young ones, maybe twenty. I hadn’t screwed someone that young in awhile. They usually didn’t have much money, and certainly didn’t have to pay for sex. Besides, Penny didn’t like me to be with anyone for free. She caught me with a girl in the back of a car a few years ago. She was so pissed she actually opened the door to stop us—usually she wanted to know no details about what I did. Funny how she could sell her brother’s sex skills, but she didn’t want to know anything about it. That was the one thing we still agreed on.

  One of the girls walking toward me, the one with firm breasts billowing out of her shirt, smiled at me. I swore I could feel exactly where my blood rushed, from the rest of my body down.

  I winked at her as I passed, and she giggled.

  Then I kept walking. I knew I could have her if I wanted, but I didn’t want to deal with Penny.

  I walked down the next side street and then behind the buildings toward Penny’s shop. She was probably busy with customers now. Maybe she’d leave me alone for a while, and I could write.

  I slipped in the back door then past the storage area to my room. My room. This was where I spent most of my time, but it wasn’t really mine. There wasn’t even a desk.

  Door closed, I turned to see someone in my bed, someone new.

  She sat up, and the black silk sheet fell off her breasts, her very substantial breasts. “She told me to wait here for you.”

  Her breasts weren’t the only thing about her that was substantial, but her shape was nice, and she was younger, with creamy skin. Once in awhile, I got a twenty-something who wanted to have a really good sexual experience, a man who was attractive and who knew what he was doing, not one of the geeky guys she probably dated.

  As I crossed the room, I pulled my shirt off and dropped it on the ground.

  Her mouth opened a little.

  I stood by the bed and unzipped my pants. She watched as I dropped the rest of my clothes on the floor, or rather, she stared. I doubted she was a virgin, but I guessed I was the best-built man she’d seen up close.

  I lifted the sheet just enough to slide under with her. Women who hid under the sheet were usually uncomfortable with their bodies. It was easier for them if I didn’t try to force them to show themselves.

  She rested back on the pillow as I moved her legs to the sides and lay with her.

  “How long do we have?” I said.

  She was breathing heavily, as if we’d already started. “Um…” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Two hours.”

  I pressed my lips to hers and slid my tongue into her mouth. The nervous ones had an easier time letting go if I took control, guided them. When her hands started travelling across my shoulders and down to my ass, I knew I had her.

  We spent the entire two hours together. After her final orgasm, she lay back. I had to figure how to keep her awake, but I didn’t want her to feel like she was getting kicked out. My goal was to make them feel desired, not like my job—even though they were. I slid back from her and took her hand to help her sit up. Standing in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed, I kissed her once more.

  “Thank you,” I said and then crossed the room toward the bathroom. Before I turned on the shower, I listened for her to leave.

  The shop would be closing soon, and Penny and I usually had dinner together on Friday nights. It used to be our time to catch up, just talk. Anymore we just went over the books. She continued to raise the rates. Money poured in.

  But I never spent any of it.

  I stood under the shower and absorbed the heat. I’d thought about Cassie during sex. I thought I was done with that. The fucking bitch. Sometimes I hated her. Perhaps that was why I couldn’t let her go.

  What really pissed me off was that I couldn’t hate her. Part of me still mourned her, even after seven years.

  I still dreamed about her. Sometimes it was about the sex, sometimes it was the friendship, and sometimes it was that day, the day she betrayed me, the day she died.

  Chapter 3

  Penny

  I talked Penny into ordering in, and we ate at the front counter.
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  “You ran over again,” she said.

  I started bagging up the trash from dinner.

  “Don’t ignore me,” she said. She brushed her dark hair back off her face. That was when I knew she was really pissed, when her own hair seemed to annoy her. I wondered why she kept it that length, long enough to get in the way and too short to go into a ponytail.

  “Are you going to tell me how to fuck now?” I said.

  Her lip curled in disgust.

  “If you don’t want to hear about it,” I said, “then stop bitching.”

  She opened her mouth, obviously about to bitch some more.

  “I’m sure you heard her through the wall,” I said. “Did she leave happy?”

  She looked away.

  “I’m not a damn kid anymore,” I said. “I’m thirty years old, and I’m fucking good in bed.” I turned her head back to me. “Don’t pretend you’re not making money off that fact.”

  “Dickhead.”

  I let go of her. “All right, I won’t make you hear about it. Just stop giving me so much shit.”

  She barely looked at me as she showed me the numbers. Then she left. She needed to learn the twelve-year difference between us didn’t matter at our ages. I wasn’t a fucked-up kid anymore.

  I was a fucked-up adult.

  And come to think of it, I wasn’t screwed up as a kid, even after all the foster homes. I remembered being pretty happy.

  After she left, I made sure all the doors were locked and went back to my room. The landlord would have a fit if he knew I was living here. As far as he was concerned, I was “in charge of inventory.” He’d be even more pissed if he found out his wife came to see me sometimes.

  I turned on a lamp and kneeled on the floor to pull a notebook out from under the bed. I wasn’t sure exactly why I hid the notebooks from Penny. Perhaps it was just too personal. I’d picked up a pen again simply to document my trysts. Over time, it’d moved onto other things. I still wrote about the women sometimes, but I also wrote stories and observations, like I used to when I was younger, when I was with Cassie. I didn’t sell them anymore.

  Today I wrote some notes about Elizabeth. She worried me. I didn’t know why she was hesitant to talk, why she was stressed all the time.