Page 9 of Sassy Love
Guess it’s my old friend Vinny. I am a thousand percent aware it’s weird to name your vibrator, but hey, he’s never let me down yet. And we’ve been together for years. No strings, no disgusting feelings, only lust and orgasms. He gives me all a girl could ever need.
I don’t do love.
I stopped believing in love the day my dad walked out. Men are only good for one thing, and Vinny is hands down a better lay than most of the guys I’ve been with.
Much less complicated.
I walk the two flights of stairs down to the front doors of the oversized building with stunning heritage features. Thefirst floor has been remodeled to three large spaces—two dorm-type rooms with bathroom and shower facilities and a large community room where the women and girls who end up here spend time, safe and cared for.
A stone forms in my throat as I close the heavy wooden door behind me and step into the sunshine. Summer is fading, the days cooling off, the first tinge of fall poking through in the leaves of the trees studded along the sidewalk of Franklin Ave.
I head for the subway. It will take me a solid hour to get home. But the thought of moving from the apartment I love in the suburb I know every block of seems ridiculous. Besides, who knows if this job will pan out? My heels click toward the steps as people pour up and out of the underground labyrinth. I slide to the right and squeeze my way down to the platform.
The doors to the train swoosh open, and I wait for people to disembark before stepping aboard. As soon as my ass hits the vinyl seat, I let my head rest on the window and my eyelids fall.
Here’s to a new start.
The sweetest, excited, wrinkled smile greets me as I unlock the front door to my Bronx apartment. Her blue eyes light her face, hands clutched together in front of her chest. “Well? Did you get it?”
I laugh as I tug my jacket off and toss it onto the front rack, dumping my bag to the floor. “I did.”
I grab her arms, and her hands close around my forearms.
“I knew you would. Imagine the difference you can make in a place like that, Carlie, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, it will be something to strive toward, that’s for sure.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s not a glamorous outfit like Carlson’s. But it will be great on my resume.”
She releases me and heads for the kitchen with a wave over her shoulder. “Resume, schmesume. You’re built for great things. And this is the start of something great, you mark my words, missy.”
It’s now that I smell the delicious aroma of Italian. Spaghetti, maybe... Possibly garlic bread?
I toe off my heels and pad to the kitchen to find Millie stirring something in a pot on the stove.
“How many times have I told you? You are not my maid, Mills. This is your home.”
“Too many, and frankly, it’s a little insulting. I like to cook, and taking care of you is one of my greatest pleasures. How dare you steal that from me.” She huffs playfully, and I narrow my eyes as I close in on the stove and lean over her. She’s so small. I swear she shrinks more and more each year. I plunge a finger into the hot, bubbling red sauce, stuffing it into my mouth before it burns my skin.
“Hey!” She slaps my arm.
I smile around my finger as the flavor hits.
“Good god. A girl could orgasm from this.”
“Carlie Lamont, watch that sassy little mouth of yours!” The blush creeping up Millie’s neck and face is adorable as she frowns at me, bewildered. It blows my mind that the generations before us lived so wild and free, unaffected by technology and social media, but bring up talk of sex, and they run and hide.
I couldn’t live like that . . .
Mills turns on me, wooden spoon in hand. “You and your mouth can set the table.”
I pull a face that sees a smile crack and stretch her face. But I oblige, setting two places and gathering cutlery, her favorite wine and my green juice.
“Dinner’s ready,” Millie calls from the sink as she tips the pasta into the colander to drain. Steam billows above her and she hisses. I’m guessing she burned herself.
“Shit, Mills. Will you let me help, for god’s sake?”
