Page 29 of Afternoon Delight

Meg

Fortunately, I had my phone with me the next day when I decided to sit down in the swing.

It was the quiet of late morning before the lunch rush, which wasn’t exactly a rush, but I usually saw a customer or two. I was forwarding Gail’s message to everyone: Georgia was awake. She had squeezed Gail’s hand and could feel Gail’s warm grip on her toes. Good news, I added.

I hadn’t really given the swing much attention before because the customers hadn’t, either. The seat was a couple of padded straps that looked like they belonged on a red backpack. Black cuffs, grips, and stirrups hung from the suspension ropes.

I decided it was time to learn more and flipped through the illustrated booklet attached to one of the cuffs.

One image showed a man spanking a woman’s butt.

Another showed a woman’s legs splayed wide while a man went down on her.

One had her heels in the top cuffs while he stood between her upraised legs.

Then she was flipped onto her stomach, boobs falling through the seat straps, while he railed her from behind.

Why were they all men and women? And why was it always the woman strapped into the swing?

I pulled out my phone and searched for more positions. I came across a lesbian sixty-nine, a serious bondage scene between a couple of guys, and some playful poses featuring people of color—even one with a gray-haired partner.

If I was being honest, I was getting kind of turned on by all the suggestive images, but how comfortable could it really be, to have your legs akimbo like that?

This was when Vickie Crutcher’s voice should have resounded in my head, warning me to have some decorum.

But my brain was in research mode. A compulsion to investigate had me adjusting my position so I could stick my foot in one of the stirrups. Was I smart enough to brace the heel of my boot against the loop? No. I brought the loop up behind my bent knee. Because I was curious. Research .

Then I realized the handles and stirrups were adjustable. I tugged the appropriate grip, and my knee went up.

That, right there, should have been enough. I should have stopped there.

However.

My phone was in my lap, and it started to slide to the floor. Reflex had me trying to catch it while still holding the upper adjustment strap. My weight tipped, yanking my right leg higher. The sudden shift opened the two straps cradling my ass. My other leg lifted off the floor.

It was like being stuck in a toilet while holding onto a towel rack.

I hung there swaying, too shocked by my predicament to move. I could almost reach my phone. My fingertips grazed the slippery screen as I gently drifted back and forth above it. My other hand was still clinging for dear life to the adjustment strap.

It was so ridiculous, I started to laugh, which only made me weak and even more helpless. What the hell was I going to do?

Gingerly, I took hold of one of the suspension ropes and released the adjustment strap.

It didn’t lower my leg. It had some kind of locking mechanism that kept my knee up around my ear.

The best I could do was grasp a different strap and try to lean far enough to catch my phone as the swing continued to sway.

What if a customer came in and found me like this? What if my mother or Roddie did?

With supreme effort, I stretched a tiny bit more and managed to pick up my phone. Zak was going to laugh himself wet, but I thumbed for his name and hit “call.”

“This is Elvis,” he answered.

“Zak.” I was still gasping with laughter at the utter ridiculousness of my situation. “I need help.”

“What’s wrong?” His alarm made it funnier.

“I’m okay. I just need you to?—”

“Meg?” The door jangled. Loud.

He appeared from around the shelf and halted when he saw me. His tension fell away as he put superhuman effort into holding a straight face. His expression was still priceless. He ended our call and tucked his phone into his back pocket.

“Kitten’s up the drapes again,” he called over his shoulder to no one.

“Have your laugh, then help me.”

“This is what you get when you fuck Spiderman.”

“My mother warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

“I hope you have a reserve chute.”

“One more and no photos.”

“I’m definitely taking a photo.” He did . The bastard.

Then he came over and scooped an arm beneath mine.

He splayed his hand on my lower back, his hard thighs braced between mine.

His pelvis was exactly where the illustrations had anticipated it would be.

He squashed my boobs against his firm chest as he pulled me upright, then studied the mechanism.

He flicked something that released my leg.

In a very swoony move, he finished pulling me free of the swing and stood me on my feet.

I was every breathless romcom heroine who had ever stumbled over invisible obstacles and landed in the hero’s arms, weak and bemused.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We both dropped our hands but stayed where we were, standing too close.

“Good luck with Cirque du Soleil. I’m going to miss you, but I support you following your passion.”

“I only called you because I knew you needed a laugh. This stays between us.” I tapped his chest—mostly because I wanted another excuse to touch that wall of muscle.

“And Rod. I would text him the photo, but I want to see his face when I show him.”

I knew he was joking, but I gave him my most menacing glower.

His mouth was a thing of beauty, digging in at the corners, completely unimpressed by my ferocity. In fact, there was heat and affection and speculation.

I really, really wanted to kiss that mouth.

A flicker from the window made him jolt and look out. He leaned to see who it was, but it was only someone hurrying past both our shops on the sidewalk.

Zak gave the back of his neck a squeeze as he turned back to me. His gaze caught mine before slipping toward his own shop. He ran his tongue over his teeth, looking rueful.

I folded my arms and bit my lips.

“He’s a good kid, by the way,” he said. “Funny. Scathingly funny. I love it.”

“Thanks.” We were pretending the almost-kiss hadn’t happened, then? “Shelby is, too.” A swell of pride warmed me. “I used to think it was just that they grew up knowing how to make me laugh, but no, they’re both genuinely hilarious.”

“It’s cool that you have that.” He was splitting his attention between his own shop and our conversation, but there was something else in his expression, a far away look.

“It is,” I said, as a pang of dejection hit me. He wanted his own kids. I could see it.

“When I talk to him...” He closed one eye in a wince, clearly debating whether to continue.

“What?” I prompted.

He gave me a look that was somber and unguarded. “Sometimes when I talk to certain kids and do the math, I realize they’re the age my own kid might have been. It makes me wonder what my life would have looked like if that had happened.”

Oh . “Meaning there’s a teenager out there with your DNA or...?”

“No.” He scratched into his beard, his attention swiveling to the door of his shop.

“No, my girlfriend had an abortion my second year of college. Mom had just died. I was already struggling with my course load, drinking my face off to deal with the grief. Paula got pregnant and I told her I’d support her if she wanted to have it, but I was shitting myself.

She decided the timing wasn’t right, and I went with her to the clinic.

I was relieved.” He lifted a shoulder as he made that admission. “But sometimes I get the what-ifs.”

“Of course,” I murmured.

“Zara doesn’t know about that, so...” He ran an invisible zipper across his lips, locked it, and threw the key over his shoulder.

“This is a safe space. Anything that happens in this room stays in this room.” I was sincere, but I sent a pointed look toward the swing.

“This place should be called Little Vegas. Hey, did you ever try that clit stimulator?”

“I kind of can’t stay off it.” I grimaced with self-reproach.

“Good to hear.” His grin was as smug as if he had personally left me in a puddle of my own come. He kind of had.

“Yours?” I prompted.

“More realistic than I expected, especially with lots of warm lube. There are settings to suck the tip or go down the shaft and into the base. It’s a total pain in the ass to clean, but I use it in the shower.” He gave me a slow blink. “Then I use it again before bed. I may need an intervention.”

“Should we hold that here with your dad and sister or...?”

“Invite your mom. Sounds like you need one, too.” He reached for the door. “I should get back. I ran out on Dad. But listen, I’ll take care of the window washing. You keep two feet on the ground.”

“I’m telling you, I did it for you . I was fully in control the entire time.”

“Are you a lineman for the county?”

“Bye, Zak.”

“You looked like one of those illustrations on an old map, where tall ships are being attacked by a giant squid.”

“ Bye, Zak. ”

The door jangled behind him.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to be head over heels for that man.