Hotties Fur Hire

Shanna looked out of the window. The cold winter air blasted the raindrops in all directions. A bit like the way her life was going at the moment. It wasn’t like she had planned it that way. One day, she had taken the left turn instead of the right and everything had changed. She blew a breath out, fogging the glass; it disappeared before she could draw a heart in it. Not a happy I love you, heart, oh no. More like a rotten, broken heart shrivelling up to nothing more than a tiny walnut heart. Your husband of seven years cheating on you would do that. Again, she sighed. Sitting here in a mope wouldn’t sort her life out. But what was out there? A world full of men that thought nothing of you, they “accidentally fell” into your best friend. Or best friends who lay there with their hairy legs open, waiting for some hapless husband to fall onto them completely naked and with a raging b***r? Her phone pinged for the twentieth time in as many minutes. She glanced at it as it sat lit up like an expectant puppy waiting for her to pet it. It was Kate, the snake again. The treacherous best mate. She picked up the phone and looked at the screen. “What the f**k…” she stared at the message. Now you are just being juvenile. Look, we made a mistake. We apologised and hoped you would just let us get on with our lives. But no, you had to tell everyone. EVERYONE. Even my f*****g great-grandma, who has dementia and lives in a home miles away, knows about it. How f*****g selfish Shanna snorted. She was selfish? And she had told no one about it. Who wanted to be a laughingstock? It must have been Ben. Ben had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. A lot like Kate with her legs. A snort escaped Shanna’s lips. The phone pinged again. Wow, Kate was really on one now. You know we have that event to attend? Just because your husband cheated doesn’t mean you can shirk your duties. I’ll expect you to be there. It wasn’t Kate, though; it was her boss, Rich, and yes, she had been avoiding the world and doing everything she could not to go to work. Rich was fabulously gay and had never had a serious relationship in his life. “Love em’ and leave' em’. That’s my motto, Shanna darling,” that’s what he said anytime she asked about it. It’s not till next Friday and I’ve sorted everything on my end, don’t you ever look at your emails? The damn phone pinged a double ping. You need a date. Call Sookie on this number she’ll sort you out. Tell her I sent you and I’ll pay. Ben was a d**k and didn’t deserve you. And yes, I f*****g look at my emails. The next text was a phone number. Still pissed off, though. Life’s boring without you and I need to vent... X The other message was from Kate. Ugh. Still playing the victim, it’s been over a week. I haven’t even spoken to Ben. He’s gone to stay with his sister downtown. Rich hates me and gives me all the shitty jobs, and Paula can’t even make eye contact. You are my best friend since school. Please answer me. Bloody hell, you would have thought she was the victim. Shanna looked at the phone as it pinged again with a link to a website. Hotties for Hire. “You have got to be shitting me?” Shanna sat back from the window, as another arctic blast rattled the windowpanes. The thing pinged again. I knew you wouldn’t call Sookie, so I arranged everything last week when Kate sat there looking smug while doing no work. So, as she’s got no one to go with because, w***e. I sent a nice email requesting their hottest, sexiest guy to be your date. Cost me more than my mortgage, but you need it, girl. You’re welcome. Then a picture appeared on the screen. Shanna stood up so fast her head swam for a moment. “No f*****g way” she looked at the guy. He was stunning. There was no way in hell a five-foot-five, curvy, big-boobed, black-haired gothic married woman would even turn a hair, let alone the head of a fine man like that. And everyone would know it. Punching the letters on the phone angrily, she prepared to send a rejection text. Ding Dong! The doorbell rang, scaring her so much. The phone did a double flip and landed on the rug with a thud. “Mother fudger,” Shanna mumbled, picking up the phone and her cup of wine on her way to answer the door. She took a long drink of the delicious nectar. Yes, it was three in the afternoon, and yes, it was a school day. And no, she didn’t give a flying f**k what anyone thought, because when your husband sticks his d**k in your best friend, anything goes. She swung open the door expecting a delivery of the finest takeaway pizza, but there stood the Adonis from the agency. Another arctic blast hit her instead of the window, but that didn’t take her breath away as much as the hunk standing on her front porch. Shanna slammed the door shut in his face. And slid down the inside of the door and slurped the last of the wine from her plastic glittery cup with a straw in it. Because, damn it, she needed courage. And she was classy. “Mrs Blackstone?” came the deep gravelly voice from the other side of the door and her ovaries almost spontaneously ovulated. Was that even possible from two words? Oh, and that the guy was at least 6'3 and built like the side of a barn, and was probably the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen. He made Ben look like a moose. “Um, yes. Who is it, please?” she said in an overly high pitched voice. Brilliant. “I’m Logan, I’m from the agency?” he tapped on the door again. “Sookie said it would be best if we got to know each other first so that dickhead of a husband of yours could see what he was missing out on.” He sounded like he was talking through the letterbox. “Um, yes well, Ben can go f**k every one of my besties, because there’s no way in hell I’m riding that train again.” She shouted back through the letterbox, this time in a lower voice. “I only had one bestie though, and she’s turned into a stalker victim who somehow blames me for her over open legs. Which is stumpy, and she never shaves above the knee and her beaver even has teeth. Not actual teeth like that horrible movie called Teeth. That can actually happen, though. Metaphorical teeth because her fanny looks like a beaver.” She clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from talking. Oh my god, stop it! She got to her feet and looked through the spyhole. He was looking straight at her with the cutest grin she had ever seen. “I bet you worked on that grin in the mirror for hours.” Shanna was still squinting through the door hole. And now old Mrs Pearson was looking out over the road to her house and the other neighbours were also finding excuses to do things in their gardens. She yanked open the door and grabbed his shirt and pulled it. He didn’t budge. Just stood there, one eyebrow raised and the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re strange,” he murmured and pulled her to his rock-hard body. His hand on the small of her back and the other tracing the line of her jaw. “Should we give the neighbours something to talk about?” his lips were an inch from hers. He smelt so good, like something piney and woodsy and some sort of musk that made her body react before her brain could process thoughts. Her hands splayed across his chest and she could feel the boom, boom, boom of his heartbeat under her palms. “Dare me, Shanna, and I’ll ruin you for any other man you ever meet” She gazed into impossibly green eyes. Dark on the outside, fading to yellow in the middle. Shanna blinked slowly and nodded a tiny nod, but it was all Logan needed. His lips crashed into hers and a kiss made her belly clench with need. Never ever in the history of her life had a kiss been so devastatingly beautiful and terrifying at the same time. His hands buried themselves in her hair and his tongue tested her lips as if asking permission. And holy smoking hotness, this was good. She pushed herself against him, a tiny, needy sound coming from her throat. “Good girl,” he murmured into her mouth. And pushed her back into the house. Holy moly, nothing like this had ever happened to her. She stood a few inches from Logan, her breath coming in short pants. Her mouth felt swollen and her belly felt like it was on fire. No, it felt like it wanted him in her. Mother of God, Shanna blew a breath, lifting her bangs off her forehead. She fanned herself with the cup; it didn't work. “That was not cool,” she said on a breath. “Sure felt good to me,” Logan said, stepping back from her and giving her some space. Totally flustered and quite mad, Shanna placed her hands on her hips. And glared at the shockingly handsome, total stranger that had just given her the kiss of her life and, yes, had ruined every other kiss she would ever have. “You can’t just walk up to total strangers and kiss them,” she said, touching her swollen lips. “I just did though,” he shrugged and kicked the door shut with his hot-boy motorbike boots. “You usually do that to all your clients?” feeling like dirt as soon as she had said it, she looked at the floor. He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked around the living room. “I have never done this,” he swept his hand through his dark brown hair, done in that sexy short at the sides and messy on top do. “Sookie is my sister. She asked me to take this one on. I own a club,” he stalked over to the kitchen on the other side of the house. “ OK then,” Shanna said under her breath. And followed him. He plucked her classy cup from her, filling it up with the equally classy box of wine from the fridge. He then poured himself an enormous glass of Bens “Special Occasion” whisky. “Don’t even give him the satisfaction,” he growled, his voice deepening, making the hairs on her arms lift. She opened her mouth to ask if he was a mind reader. But his look stopped her. How did he know she was going to protest? Yes, that was a sacred three-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch. Yes, the d**k face guarded it like it was the crown jewels. And no, she had never dared even try it. “Don’t feel bad Shanna, it’s not your fault the man was a gigolo,” he handed her his glass and the cup of wine. “Gigolo? He only slept with Kate?” but as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “Drink.” he looked at the glass, then back at her. “They asked me to do some research about your husband, drink Shanna. Have you ever been happy, truly happy being married to him?” he looked at her with such sadness it brought a lump to her throat. She took a huge gulp of the whisky; it burnt a path down her throat and made a small fire in her belly. “What did you find, Logan?” her voice was husky from the drink. “Do you really want to know now?” he took the glass from her and downed the rest of the amber nectar. Made a grimacing face and filled the glass up again. “The thing is,” he took another sip. Shanna stopped herself from staring at his biteable bottom lip. What was wrong with her? “Some guys don’t realise what they have until it’s not available anymore,” Shanna nodded and took a drink of her wine. God, the guy was making her think of things she had never even thought possible. She also wondered if she could bend that far. “I wanted to rip him in half when I looked into what he had done,” he leaned on the kitchen counter near the sink. Long jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles, sitting just right on slim hips, she would bet her hoo-ha he had those strips of muscle over them as well. “I don’t want to know, well, I do. But I don’t. I hurt all the time, a heartache. It’s bone-deep.” Her phone pinged. Sighing, she took the phone from her pocket. Logan grabbed it just after she had opened the message. What the f**k is that guy in my house? “Seems your neighbours have been texting your hubby.” he clicked his tongue. Fuck off chodewaffle, you blew it, go fall into Beaver Fanny, she seems more your type. Logan: Your soon-to-be ex-wife’s new f**k toy. He pressed send and quickly did something else on the phone and then handed it back with a s**t-eating grin on his face. “OMG, Logan,” Shanna said with a giggle. Her eyes were big and round her mouth a little O. she looked at the message again. “I was priding myself on not answering for a week!” She tried to remove the message, but he had already seen it. “You gotta admit chodewaffle is genius, like dickwaffle or something,” he was grinning like a kid. God help her. The phone started ringing this time and a picture of a turd lit up the screen with Bendover as the contact name. “You started it. You can take the call.” She handed the device to Logan. “Try to be as juvenile as possible, please.” “Yes,” he did a fist pump and took the screaming phone from her. “Hello, this is f**k toy. Who is this please?” he winked at Shanna, who was grinning. “Ben, you say. Ben Dover? The i***t who falls into best friends. Best friends with hairy legs and even hairier beavers?” Shouting from the other end of the line. “What’s that? You’re going to rip off my head? You can try sunshine. I haven’t had a good fight for, um, let’s see.” He paused. “A day.” More shouting. “I know you’re stalking her, waiting outside around the corner in that sexy p***y magnet, Camaro.” “WHAT?” Shanna snatched the phone from Logan. “You creepy f*****g son of a b***h, f**k off from my life, no second chances, no I realise now I never loved you.” “Now, Shanna, that’s not my little dove talking,” Ben said in that horrible silky smooth voice he used for making her feel bad about something. “Shut up!” she snapped. “I’m not your little dove, now piss off and don’t call me again. I have a hottie to f**k, and I’m sure he’ll give me one hundred per cent more orgasms than you did. Wait, what’s that? That’s right. You never gave me one.” She poked the end button and blew out a breath. She handed the phone to Logan in case the chodewaffle called back. “You’d better give me more orgasms now,” she giggled, feeling the buzz from the alcohol. “I could give you one by just talking to you if that was anything to go by. Seven years and not one orgasm? How did you stay married?” And yes, he probably could because she was hot and horny and didn’t know if she wanted to scream or hit something or grab Logan and f**k him on the granite countertop in the kitchen. She bit her bottom lip and took a step towards him. Without even knowing she had done so. “You smell like pheromones and arousal” his nostrils flared slightly and closed his eyes like he had just smelt the most beautiful scent of an exotic flower. “This is possibly the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me,” Shanna placed the cup on the counter. Her head was fuzzy from the alcohol and because the man standing feet away was so tempting. “I didn’t answer any of their texts in a week. It’s all day and night. Like they are trying to blame me for what they did.” She walked the few steps towards him. “I haven’t been with any other men. It was like we were forced together. From when we were kids it was always Shan and Ben”. She looked up into Logan’s eyes. He took her hands in his big ones. Raising her delicate hands to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Oh my word, what that did to her nether’s. He dropped her hands and finished the rest of his drink. “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight, wear something sexy. You have the body of a goddess. Show it off,” he brushed a quick kiss to her forehead. “There’s more to that i***t of a husband than you think,” Logan said low, his voice going gravely and sexy. Shanna shook her head slightly to clear it. “What? He’s just the CEO of a transport firm. They move furniture.” Her mind was reeling. “He worked away most of the time…” Logan raised his eyebrows and c****d his head to the side. “God, I’m so f*****g stupid” a single tear of betrayal sneaked past her lashes. She dashed it away angrily. “No, Shanna, he was”. He walked to the front door. Shanna followed. He handed her phone back to her. There was a link to the message he had sent to Ben somehow. “Click on it when you are ready to know the truth, but not today. Today I get to show off the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on” He gave her the sexiest lop-sided smile. “Are you real?” Shanna whispered on a breath. “More real than you could ever imagine.” He nodded once and left the house. A few seconds later, the throaty roar of a motorcycle sounded and blasted its way up the road. A smile ghosted across her lips. She touched the tingle that still lingered there. What had the f**k just happened? She had almost f****d a complete stranger on the kitchen counter, and she wouldn’t have felt one per cent guilty. Not that she had got far in her seduction attempt before Logan had cut and run. Perhaps he was a gentleman, albeit one that snogged the face off someone who he had met minutes before. Her hoo-ha was still thinking about that kiss, and her skin felt hot and clammy. Great. She needed a cold shower and an orgasm, but that would not happen as her phone pinged again. PING! Double ping. “God’s sake,” she mumbled, looking at the screen. Unknown number. Trust him, trust him with your life. You are safe; you are his. From a friend to be. X Well now, who could ignore a text from a stranger? Who is this? Shanna waited ten minutes, but there was no reply. The person didn’t even see the damn message. She grabbed her classy wine cup and took a sip. She was tipsy and so horny. Had she ever been this horny? She didn’t think so. Then again, Ben wasn’t the spontaneous type. In fact, had he ever her type? Had she really loved him? Of course, she had thought she had. And if that was the case, why hadn’t she shed a single tear after his betrayal. She had cried because her best friend had cheated with him, but had she cried over the loss of seven years of marriage? Nope, not one tiny wet tear had slipped from her eyes. Was she so sad that all it took was a kiss from a stranger, to forget her promise from Ben? Was she so bad that she could forget that Ben even existed and lose herself in a mad, passionate affair with a sexy stranger? Was it even an affair if your husband had an affair first? Another slurp. She flung herself onto the sofa and stared out the big picture window at the old oak tree in her front garden. Its twisted branches reached out to a sun that wasn’t shining. The sky was a palette of greys, maybe fifty of them. She chuckled to herself. A stud muffin of a man, with impossible green eyes and a body like a god, would pick her up in three hours, on a Harley. Not that that meant anything. If she had a type, that would definitely be it. It was getting dark. Shadows from the old oak crept into the room like searching spider legs. The thought gave her goosebumps. This time, her phone rang. But it was all the way over there in the kitchen. Holy s**t, it was six, and she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She jumped up and looked at herself in the mirror over the fireplace. That was going as soon as she could find someone strong enough to move it. There was a problem solved right away. She hated mirrors. There seemed to be something just out of her sight in them. Like a shadow out of place or a curve in a door where there shouldn’t have been. Ben had told her many times that she was being stupid, that there was nothing in the mirror but her reflection. He had even put more mirrors up so it would “desensitise” her to them. But if she had her way, they would be in the trash. Kicking off her shoes and stripping her way up the stairs to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror at the top. She looked like she had had a fight in her sleep. Her hair was messed up and in tangles. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen. The scariest thing wasn’t the red marks on her wrists but the red welts over her breasts as if she had been whipped. A scream clawed its way up the back of her throat ad she clamped her hand over her mouth to stop it. But as she stared in wide-eyed terror at the marks, they slowly disappeared, and so did her memory of them. She carried on to the bathroom, clothes in her hands, and dumped them into the hamper. And set the shower to scalding. Now the butterflies were there. But also a touch of fear. Standing under the hot jets of water, she mused over the strange events of the day. From being utterly depressed and moping this morning, she felt suddenly energised and happy. She washed her hair and applied the conditioner, loving the way it felt so soft running through her fingers. She scrubbed her body in her favourite body wash and shaved the necessary parts and then some not so necessary parts, because you never knew, or secretly you wanted, something to happen. Grabbing the towel from over the shower rails, she wandered over to the steamed-up mirror. Oh poop, she had forgotten to turn the extractor on again. But f**k it, Ben Dover could piss right off with his stupid controlling rules. She shook her hair out, the long black tresses falling to the base of her spine. She sat naked at the dressing table and leant over to wipe the condensation from the glass. What was she going to wear? The hairdryer whined loudly. She had always wanted one of those expensive new jobs, but Ben had said it was a waste of money. She sighed, got up and padded to her wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase from the bottom. These were the clothes she had worn before she had married Ben. She lugged the case over to the massive bed and threw it up onto it with a grunt. There should be her leather biker jacket and some holey jeans in there, some decent boots as well if she remembered rightly. And now some probably retro band tee-shirts. Unzipping the case, she pushed open the top. It fought for a second before it landed on the bed with another thump. "What the hell?" All that was in the case were shreds of her old clothes, all mixed up in a huge ball that was squashed into the thing. She picked up a scrap of the leather jacket. She had saved up her Saturday job money because her dad hadn't let her get a proper job, "It's below a Hewitt woman to work. They are provided for, always." Her father had said when she asked why. Why hadn't she thought there was anything wrong with that? She had thought that is what women did, got married to childhood sweethearts, had kids and lived happily ever after. She felt like she had been dreaming. No, not dreaming, living in a fog. Could she remember anything from the time she had been with Ben? It seems not at the moment. Frowning at the clothes, she remembered everything about work, about her work colleagues. She remembered Kate The Snake, but Ben was a blur. It pissed her off about the clothes, but she kept the tears in with a tremendous effort. Instead, she went back to the wardrobe and picked out her sexiest underwear that the t**t hadn't even seen. And a pair of leather-look leggings. Ben had banned her from wearing them so she had stashed them at the back of a pile of pantyhose. She pulled on the black lace pants and did up the plunge bra and looked at herself critically in the mirror. But not for long because her self-esteem was in shatters and she needed dutch courage. She pulled black mohair off the shoulder jumper and smoothed it over her breasts. She pulled on a pair of calf-length biker boots she used to wear instead of riding boots. She fanned herself, tears welling up behind her eyes and her throat burned. "Don't go there, Don't go there. Don't go there," she repeated until the tears dried up and she could breathe again. Her eyes were bright green from the almost tears, her mouth was still swollen. She applied her makeup, all smoky black and neutral lipstick. Finally, with two minutes to go, she was ready. She looked like a different woman from the wife she had been a week ago. Gone was the soccer mom look, not that she had ever been a mom. He had preferred her to blend in. But now, turning in front of the mirror, she was anything but plain. She dabbed some perfume under her ears, put everything she would need for a night out in her clutch bag, and made her way down to the kitchen. Her cup was still on the coffee table, along with her phone. Hadn't she left that on the kitchen counter? She looked around her in the dark room, the shadows of the old oak tree deeper and darker in the moonlight. She held the bag to her chest, her heart seeming to thump out of her chest. The shadows seemed even darker. More sinister than they had ever done before. She slid along the wall towards the light switches. If it had been a week ago, Kate would have been here chatting about work stuff. Feet up on the coffee table, munching on snacks and sipping expensive foreign beer. And she would be in the kitchen making steaks or chilli getting ready for another night but with a movie because Ben was out of town, but here alone. With the phone having moved and a deep terror bubbling up in her throat. Shanna knew without a doubt that she wasn't alone in the room. Shanna felt along the wall for the light switches. How could they be so far away? Why was the room so dark? The street lights should have left the room in an orange glow. Rain splattered across the window, making her jump and almost scream in fright. She grabbed her throat as if to stop her heart from coming from her mouth. Why was she so scared? It was her house. She had had the locks changed and added them to the windows too? There was no way anyone could have gotten into her home. Why was this happening to her? All she wanted was a date with a stranger. Something for her, not to do everything for everyone else, just one night! Angry now, Shanna stepped another step to the side. The switches should be right there. Her fingertips brushed the light. A rush of relief gushed from her lips and she clicked the light on. "Hello, little dove. Going somewhere?"