Page 67 of Maid in America

Even though they weren’t dating, he felt a small pang of guilt for even considering fucking the desperate housewife before him.

“Plus, I’m getting to know someone. I really like her. I’m tryin’ real hard not to screw things up before anything can even get started.”

“Pfft.” She scoffed with sad eyes, her face looking ten years older as she frowned. Her tone grew nasty like a switch had flipped. “You think life is gonna be sunshine and roses now that you found someone special? Ugh.Please,” she spat. “Wait until you’re asking each other to check each other’s moles and pissing with the bathroom door wide open. Relationships aremessy. They’re ugly and exhausting. When I said ‘I do,’ I thought we’dbe together in the good timesandthe bad. But that workaholic asshole is never evenhere.”

“Well, with all due respect, banging your maid probably isn’t a step in the right direction for your marriage.”

“What the hell would you know aboutmarriage?” she snarled. Her eyes were hard, like those of a wounded animal. “You havefuck boywritten all over you.”

“You might be right,” he said sternly. “Idon’tknow a goddamned thing about marriage from experience. But before my parents died, I remember the way they looked at each other. I remember the way their voices softened when they talked to one another. Hell, even my grandparents… I remember my grandmother sitting by my grandfather’s side forweeksin the hospital until the day the pneumonia finally took him. I see how lost she is without him every time I look into her eyes. To thisday,she can’t sleep a full night without him in bed beside her. She calls me at three in the morning sometimes just to hear a familiar voice. So, sure, I’m a ‘fuck boy’ because that level of pain andlossscares the absoluteshitout of me.”

Barrett started to leave and then walked back again, standing in front of her on the cowhide rug, voice softer. “I see in you what I see in my grandmother: a lost woman who needs some companionship.”

Those words hit her hard. She looked away.

“So, look all you want. Fill your spank bank with images of the ripped teacher in your den to use with your rabbit vibe the second I leave, but that’s it. If you want to fire me… I can’t stop you.” He patted the sides of his slacks. “But next time… if thereisa next time… if you want to use my body, use myears. If you want to talk, I’m actually a way better listener than I am a mopper.”

She laughed through tears. “I should hope so. You missed ahugechunk of the kitchen.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, deflated. “Sorry. I’ll redo it. Although, in my defense, you have the biggest goddamn kitchen I’ve ever seen in mylife.”

She laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s fine. Get it next time.”

“Yeah?” He sounded hopeful at the chance to return.

“I apologize. When Will used to come, he used to…” She blushed.

“Will used towhat?” Barrett was genuinely curious now. “Fuck you?”

“No! He used to…talk dirty. Threatened to bend me over and spank my ass with a ruler if I misbehaved.”

“Did he actually spank you?”

She shook her head. “Just the dirty talk.”

Barrett thought for a moment.

Technically, a spanking didn’t fall under the umbrella of prostitution, at least to his knowledge.

“You got a ruler? Like, a foot-long one?”

The question turned her on in an instant, eyes almost twinkling with arousal. She squirmed against the cushion of the couch unknowingly. “Yes. It’s metal, and it makes onehellof a smack.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in my office.”

“Get it,” Barrett ordered. “Now.”

She gasped and scurried into the back.

She wasn’t firing him, which felt like a blessing. A couple of hard whacks against her silken-panty-clad cheeks from the mean ol’ Professor’s ruler would be a small price to pay to keep her as a happy, loyal client.

Hell, with how thirsty she’d seemed a few minutes earlier, Barrett knew it would probably make the broad’s whole month.

26

A bright pink golfball tumbled into the fifth hole of the tiny green with a dullclink.

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