The Family Business #1 Read online

  I lost my balance and was flung to the opposite side of the couch. Before I knew what had happened my head lay in his lap face-down in his crotch. The rocking had stopped and I heard a distinct snicker from above me. "Comfortable?" Alex asked me.

  I shot up and my face felt as red as a tomato, and twice as fruity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I paused and thought over my apology. I hadn't been the one to cause the eruption of the couch cushions, so I glared at Alex. He had a grin the size of the Grand Canyon on his lips. "You did that on purpose!" I accused him.

  He shrugged. "It was just a lucky break. I just intended to get my spot back, and you ended up where you were by pure accident."

  "I don't think the word pure means what you think it means," I argued. Again with the indifferent shrug and triumphant smirk. "In that same vein, maybe I should leave. You're starting to look like a coyote on the lookout for a girlfriend." I jumped up and was surprised when he didn't follow suit.

  "You're forgetting one thing. Your clothes," he reminded me.

  I glanced down and groaned. The shirt and pants still weren't mine. "You're wrong, I'm forgetting two things. My shirt and pants," I corrected him.

  "I accept the amendment," he amicably replied.

  "Any way you can call down and see how the cleaning is progressing?" I asked him.

  He shook his head. "I could, but it's only been ten minutes. Let's give them, and us, a little more time."

  "There's no us, only me and you," I countered.

  "I thought we weren't going to argue over semantics?" he scolded.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stood as tall as a sickly sycamore. "I'm willing to fight to the death over semantics if I have to," I challenged him.

  "Why not a nice discussion over a couple of glasses of wine?" he persisted.

  "I told you I don't drink wine."

  "That's very Gothic of you. I suppose my wine selection is safe, but do I need to worry about my blood supply?" he teased.

  "Only if you're veins flow with two percent positive milk," I replied.

  "You know, all this talk is getting us nowhere." He patted the couch cushion next to him. "Why don't you sit down and we'll have a nice chat while we're waiting for your clothes. You haven't told me much about yourself."

  I grudgingly plopped myself down beside him. "I haven't told you anything about myself except my first name," I pointed out.

  "We should remedy that."

  "I don't consider it a disease."

  "It could lead to a terminal illness for our relationship."

  "We don't have a relationship. This is a random encounter between two strangers."

  "I'm willing to go to the next step."

  "It's broken. You'll have to find another staircase."

  "Does your wit ever stop?"

  "When it needs a breath of dumb air."

  "You look ravishing in my clothes." I blinked in bewilderment. That comment was so random and flattering that my wit breathed deep that dumb air and I was left completely dumbfounded.

  "Uh, what?" I replied. I glanced down and made sure I still wore the same flabby body I'd always had. Yep, still there, rolls and all.

  "So random compliments are what throw you off," Alex teased. "I'll have to remember that for next time."

  "I don't think there's going to be a next time," I argued. The look in his eyes told me he already planned for a next time, and had plans for this time. I slowly scooted on my hands along the couch away from him, but he followed me. "A-and we only just met, so we shouldn't be giving each other funny looks."

  "What kind of funny looks?" he playfully wondered as he crawled along the couch after me.

  "The ones in your eyes. Those smoldering, teasing looks," I replied. I hit the couch arm, but he kept coming. He placed his arms on either side of me and leaned in so our faces nearly touched. I was trapped by those beautiful eyes, that handsome face, and the heat burning between my thighs. "W-we really shouldn't do something we'll regret."

  "Like this?" he huskily whispered. He swooped down and caught my lips, mind and body in a firm, passionate kiss. I melted beneath the heat radiating off his strong, muscular body as he pressed down against me. After an eternity he broke the kiss and grinned down at me. "You regret it yet?"

  My cheeks were flushed and I could hardly breath through his musky scent. "Only that you stopped," I breathed.

  "We'll have to fix that."

  Alex captured my lips again in a sensual battle of wills, but one of his hands joined the fray. It slid beneath my loose shirt and glided against my large, heaving breasts. Every nerve in my body tensed and strained, eager to feel his soft touch. Our clothes slid off as though by magic as we rubbed and ground against each other. I was wrapped an ecstasy of pleasure where each tender touch was like a flame on my flesh. The heat between my thighs demanded fuel, and Alex eagerly provided it with his thick, long member.

  I'd had romantic flings before, but not like this. He was gentle and passionate. Every bit of his effort was to please me, and through me please himself. My hot, wet inner walls welcomed him and we thrust and pushed against each other in a frenzy of dizzying lust. In all the world I only knew he existed, and without him I couldn't exist. Every sensual touch by his careful hands told me I was alive and his, and he was mine.

  My body tensed and tingled with my climax, and every part of me rejoiced when I fell into that blinding ray of light. He followed soon after, and when he was finished he rolled over against the back of the wide couch and wrapped me in his arms. After the night's excitements I snuggled up against his hot, sweat-soaked chest and took a nap.

  Chapter 3

  My dreams were of shimmering fields filled with carpets of flowers, and I sat in the middle among woodland creatures who I instinctively knew were my friends. We laughed over the jokes of the rabbit until a woodpecker flew by and rapped on a nearby tree. We tried to get him to shut up, but nothing worked.

  That's when I opened my bleary eyes and heard the rapping on the door. I sat up and found Alex and I were still on the couch, and still naked. The knocking persisted, and on checking the time I realized it was delivery time for my outfit. I tossed on my-er, his clothes and hurried over to the door. The employee stood there with a smile and my clean, pressed clothes. "All done, ma'am," he pleasantly told me.

  I frantically pressed my finger to my lips to quiet down his loud voice. "Thanks," I whispered as I took the clothes. He smiled and held out his hand. I shook my head. "No money on me," I told him.

  He frowned, but bowed his head and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "Will you be needing-" I clapped my hand over his mouth and glanced over my shoulder. Alex was still dead asleep on the couch. I rummaged through my borrowed pants and brought out a couple of bucks.

  "Extortionist," I growled. The boy smiled and quietly went off to harass other clients.

  I softly closed the door and looked over to the couch. The unconscious body was still accounted for, so I quickly slipped into my clothes and draped his over the coffee table. I glanced at Alex, and couldn't help but smile at the tender look on his face. I was even more amused when I remembered he hadn't even asked for my phone number or where I lived. I found a pad and pencil on the kitchen counter and scribbled a note that playfully scolded him for not finding out more about his mystery lover. I left that atop the clothes and snuck out into the night.

  After a half hour walk over a couple dozen city blocks I reached my apartment and unlocked the door. I flicked on the lights and tossed off my shoes. "Honey, I'm home!" I called. A walking ball of shedding hair sauntered out of the back bedroom and greeted me with its customary yowl. On good days it looked more like a cat than a fluffy mop. Today was not a good day. "You look like hell, Mr. Smith," I told him. He walked up to me and rolled over to show off his fat, furry stomach. Mr. Smith was a stray cat who'd picked me up from the streets and allowed me to share his apartment provided I pay for his food, lodgings, and litter. "Oh no, I'm not falling for the I'm-so-cute-and-c
uddly-but-I-will-rip-off-your-arms-if-you-pet-me ploy. I haven't healed from the last time." He yowled in his cute fashion, and I sighed and knelt down. It only took three rubs of the stomach before he was trying to give me the nickname of Lefty, and I pulled away with most of my fingers intact. "Nice to see you, too," I grumbled.

  My apartment had a small living room combined with my dining table, and a kitchen against the back wall. The bathroom and single bedroom were in the back of the place. I admit I wasn't all that tidy of a person. Some people had compared my apartment to the touchdown area for a tornado, but I just scoffed at them. No tornado could create as much chaos and mess as my apartment. Empty pizza boxes lay everywhere, especially in the fridge, there wasn't a clean dish to be found, the dust could have been carbon-dated to the last Ice Age, and I liked it that way. Actually, I had to like it that way, I was too tired and lazy to clean the place up.

  I plopped down on the couch and noticed the distinct lack of fun with my couch compared to Alex's. There was no tsunami of bouncing to be had, and no cute boy for my face to land on. Mr. Smith jumped up and shared the love of his fur by rubbing himself against my sleeve. I absently scratched his head and thought about the night's adventures. "I met a really cool guy tonight, Mr. Smith. I think he actually kind of liked me," I spoke up.

  Mr. Smith growled when I accidentally stopped petting him. I rolled my eyes and resumed his massages.

  "I guess it might not have worked out, but I had a better time with him than hanging out at The Bar," I told him.

  My cat purred.

  "Yeah, that's where we met. He was really cute, too."

  Mr. Smith meowed.

  "His name's Alex, but I didn't get anything else." I froze when an important fact slipped into my mind. He hadn't asked for my phone number, and I forgot to ask for his. I smacked my hand over my forehead and sighed. "Brilliant, Georgie. You were laughing at him for not asking and here you sit without his number. . ." I grumbled to myself. I slumped down low in the couch and Mr. Smith took advantage of me by laying down across my expansive gut. "Guess I'll just have to remember this night. In a city this big I'm not likely to see him again."

  I couldn't mope for long because I had work tomorrow, and that meant I needed more sleep than that short nap. The next morning I drove to the department store and parked in the employee underground garage. I followed the other zombie employees into the building where we separated into our assigned departments. I worked the back room inventory, a large warehouse-style concrete storage facility with rows and rows of metal shelves that held boxes, crates and pallets full of all the goods needed in the store departments. It had few windows and was at the rear of the store where there were loading and unloading docks for the semis that came in with the goods.

  And where did I fit into this mad maze of merchandise? I was one of the crazy people who operated the forklifts that hauled all those heavy boxes and pallets around so the goods could be delivered to their departments. On occasion I was allowed to be seen by the public when the departments were short on staff and high on customers. Then I'd be shoved behind a counter and have to plaster a smile on my face to attend to the needs of all sorts of people.

  I put on my coveralls, the usual outfit when anything could spill on you from perfume to peanut butter, and climbed into the seat of Sam, my forklift. Then my long shift began and went uninterrupted until my friend from last night, Jamie, ran up to me while my forks were full of an unknown substance bound for the bathroom department. The exotic stench permeated through the cardboard boxes and all I wanted to do was dump them near the department door and drive away.

  Anyway, Jamie startled me when she hopped onto my forklift and shoved her face close to my ear. "I know where I've seen that guy!"

  I jumped which nearly caused me to order the controls to spill the mystery contents all over the floor. Disaster was averted with some quick piloting, and I shut off my machine so Jamie wouldn't get another chance to cause chaos. "What are you talking about?" I asked her as I pulled out my ear plugs. Those were so we didn't go deaf playing with these machines all day.

  "I said I know where I've seen that guy!" she repeated in the same volume.

  I clapped my hand over her mouth and glared at her. "Inside voice, Jamie," I scolded. She nodded, and I released her mouth. "Now what guy are you talking about?"

  "The guy you were with last night. Remember how I thought I'd seen him somewhere?" I nodded. "Well, he's part of that company that's trying to merge with the store!"

  I raised an eyebrow. "Are you still drunk?"

  She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. Given the precarious position as she stood on the side of my forklift, this caused her to lean back. She flailed her arms, but was forced to hop off my machine. "I was sober when I saw him, and I know who I saw. That guy's part of that family who owns the company. Now what are their names?" She snapped her fingers, but the light bulb in her brain didn't click on. "Damn it, I just had the name!"

  "This way, Mr. Brenton," a voice floated through the air.

  "Brenton! That was it!" Jamie exclaimed. I jumped down, wrapped an arm around her and my hand over her mouth. Voices approached us from the depths of the inventory storehouse and I didn't want to attract their attention until I knew who it was. You see, I wasn't exactly on good terms with my immediate manager, so if he was in the group then I was fully prepared to dive into the nearest hiding hole to avoid him.

  I dragged Jamie away from my forklift and behind a stack of boxes. Peeking around the corner we watched two men come into sight. One was the voice we heard before, and who happened to be the store manager, Mr. Clark Mullen. The other was Alex, and judging by Mullen's smiling face he was eager to please my brief lover. "As you can see, each department has a loading and drop-off door."

  Alex looked so riveted that he hid a yawn behind his hand. "That's very efficient of you, Mr. Mullen."

  Like all idiots, Mullen beamed with pride at the half-hearted compliment. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Brenton."

  "Don't mention it." Alex's voice told anyone who was listening that he was serious about it not being mentioned again. Unfortunately, Mullen wasn't listening.

  "You're a wealth of compliments, Mr. Brenton. I'm sure the employees will be eager to meet you."

  Alex glanced around the empty area. "Unless they've all turned into boxes there doesn't seem to be any employees here," he pointed out.

  That's when I felt a hand on my back, and I didn't have time to dig my heels into the floor before Jamie shoved me out into the open. She hopped out behind me and smiled at the pair of gentlemen. "Good morning!" she greeted them with all the eagerness of a five year old on a gallon of coffee. I don't know how she could be that perky that early.

  "Ah, here are two of our best workers!" Mr. Mullen gleefully exclaimed.

  Alex's eyes settled on me, and he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I was calm, cool and collected enough that I plastered a stupid grin on my face and nervously waved my fingers at him. He grinned back and walked over to me. "Hello again," he spoke up.

  "Um, hi," was my smooth answer.

  Mullen came up beside him with a raised eyebrow. "So you know this young lady?" he asked him.

  "We met briefly last night, though I didn't realize she worked for the store," Alex replied.

  "Ah, yes, she's been here a number of years." Bordering on eternity to me, especially right then. Mullen gestured first to Jamie, then to me. "This is Jamie Newton and this is Georgina Trammel."

  "So that's your last name," Alex teased.

  "And yours is Brenton?" I guessed.

  "Guilty as charged," he admitted.

  "And you're the ass who's going to put a lot of us out of work?" I added.

  Mullen frowned at me. "Miss Trammel, this is a professional environment and I expect a professional manner from you," he harshly scolded. He turned to Alex with an apologetic manner. "I'm very sorry about her rude comment, Mr. Brenton."

  Alex waved
off the man's apology. "It's fine. After all, there is a grain of truth in what she says."

  I thought there was a mountain, and opened my mouth to say so, but Jamie beat me to a conversation. "So what are you doing here, Mr. Brenton?" she asked him.

  "I'm taking Mr. Brenton on a tour of the facility, and we really must be going," Mullen interrupted. He gently but firmly pulled Alex away from us, probably before I said something else that was truthful.

  When they'd gone Jamie turned to me with a sly grin. "You gonna tell me what went on last night between you two?"

  My face flushed and I glared at her. "N-nothing happened! We just went to his place and did-well, did stuff."

  "Stuff?" she repeated in a disbelieving voice.

  "Yeah, stuff. You know, stuff that two people do together." I couldn't have phrased that worse if I'd told her the blunt truth.

  She raised a mischievous eyebrow. "I know what a guy and a girl do when they're alone," she teased.

  "W-well, it wasn't like that, so get your mind out of the gutter!" I stuttered.

  Now both her eyebrows wagged. "So you going to tell me the juicy details or do I need to go to the other party to get the info?"

  "You do and I'll-I'll do something bad to you!" I threatened. That wouldn't have made a two year old to shake in their diapers, and it did nothing to stop my curious friend. The noon hour, however, proved to be more effective. My watch made a beeping noise telling me it was time for food, and time to get away from my 'friend.' "Well, would you look at the time. Guess we'd better get to eating. Lunch isn't going to eat itself, ya know." I stepped around her and shot off toward the break room.

  "You can run, but you can't hide!" Jamie shouted behind me.

  Chapter 4

  I couldn't hide forever, but I was willing to try. I'd hidden my food in the far corners of the employee refrigerator behind a tub of mystery soup so cultured the fungus had evolved as far as the Industrial Revolution. With food in hand I snuck away to my usual hiding spot, a far corner of the back room close to the outside doors used for loading and dumping trash. All around me were metal shelves in long, narrow blocks with hallways between them. They were stacked high with merchandise, and nearby I heard a forklift work at getting some pallets down off the higher shelves. I wedged myself between two precariously tall stacks of cardboard boxes full of squeaky toys. They'd been part of a recall that never quite reached the loading dock, and now sat there perfect for my use.