Freezing Read online

  Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it will do for now as I head out to hopefully secure a job.

  An unexpected trip to visit my PO wasn’t what I had planned today, but Reed and I set up a quick meeting to discuss my interview yesterday when I informed him of it. Apart of me hopes that his sister will be hanging around, so I can see her again. I walk through the main doors and notice the same receptionist at the helm as the first time I came here, but no Mika. I check in with slight disappointment, and while she stutters, again she motions with her shaking hand to the same row of seats that I waited in before.

  Within minutes, Reed comes down the elevator and into the lobby, looking confused.

  “We set up monthly check-ins, right?” he asks as I stand.

  “Yeah. I just wanted to check in with you though.” And I hope that I run into Mika while I’m here too.

  “Come on up. I was just finishing up lunch. You hungry?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t want to interfere with your lunch break.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come on.” The elevator doors open and we go inside. We’re both silent as we ride up to the 3rd floor and silent as he guides me to his office.

  “If this is closed door business, please close the door behind you, otherwise you can leave it open if you wish.” Reed gestures to the door behind me.

  I leave it open and sit in the same worn leather chair as before and pick at one of the frayed stitches.

  “I’m on pins and needles here, buddy. Share with the class, will ya?”

  “Sorry. So, I had a job interview today. They must have been pretty desperate for a developer because they hired me on the spot.”

  “That’s great news!” Reed clapped.

  “They did their research, they knew all about me, and even got recommendations from my online professors. So without any actual work experience in this field, and perhaps because of my name, which I assumed didn’t mean shit anymore, I got the job.” I smile.

  “I’m hearing a little defeat in your voice.”

  “I expected to fight for it. You hear how hard it is for ex-cons to get jobs after release. I just assumed that I would have to prove myself a little more than that.”

  “You wanted to fight for the job,” he repeats.

  “I wasn’t expecting it to be easy.”

  “Do you feel like you need to prove yourself now?” Reed asks. It’s the one question I don’t have a good answer for.

  “Shouldn’t I? I fucked up; I know it and I own up to it. I should have to work harder than the average person now. I shouldn’t be given a job on the spot. I don’t deserve any special treatment.” I fist my hands up.

  “You did your time. You admit that what you did was wrong. You are qualified and likely that’s all they were looking for.”

  “Are the records from my counseling sessions in your files? Do you know the reasons behind why I did what I did?” I ask.

  “I have access to the files and database, but I didn’t read every bit of it. I usually hear it from my clients given some time, if they trust me and feel like sharing. I highly doubt the reasons why you were in jail matters. After all, you got the job. You are just qualified. Everyone has a past, Brad.”

  I stand and close the door.

  “My name is Bradford Maddox. My birth name was Bradford Stephens. I took the name Maddox when I was in my early twenties, after my birth father finally recognized me as his son. But with that recognition, the truth was silenced and I sworn in as the nephew and not the son. I was introduced to his sons as their cousin and not their brother.”

  “All right,” Reed says, shifting in his seat.

  “I lied under oath about my brother’s involvement because Candy threatened to reveal my true identity to everyone. It was a secret I was sworn to keep when I was brought into the family, a secret that I had not ever thought to disclose. Grated, I was drunk when I told a damn stripper, but still no one in my life had known any of my secrets.”

  “This true identity of yours, if you had told your brothers, how would that have been received?” Reed asks.

  “That, I do not know. I’m unsure if it would have been welcomed, or if I would have been cast out.” I pace the small office.

  “And now you are the outcast. You and the Maddox family are not on speaking terms,” Reed states.

  “Correct.” I nod as I stop my pacing and sit back down in the chair.

  “What if you had just let that cat out of the bag? Do you think the result would have been better or worse than what actually transpired?”

  “I think that either way, I would be marked as a liar. I lied for years! And I spent so much time with them, especially Jacob, that they would have seen everything that I was to them as a lie.”

  “Just like now. Do they know anything?”

  “Not at all. I disclosed to Tyson, Jacob and their fiancées that I was being blackmailed, yet never went into details. They didn’t ask questions and no one came to seek out any information while I was in jail, other than reporters.”

  “And Candy?”

  “Still in jail, I suppose. I didn’t keep tabs,” I say, shrugging with indifference.

  “When you were living in Vegas, you lived under the alias of Brad Waters. What was that about?”

  “That was the early days of the relationship with Candy. I was an idiot and thought she loved me, but she was just using me until she found something better. Then she learned about who Jacob was.”

  “But why change your name, or have a fake ID with her last name?”

  “I had to go back and forth between Vegas and San Francisco. She talked me into a lot of shit. Shit that I’m not proud of. Basically, I left my man card at the door when I met her. Also, I knew I would get tailed, I wanted to leave some sort of tracks.”

  “Tailing?”

  “The Maddox family has a private investigator on their payroll. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my every move was accounted for. Eventually, I would purposely go places to keep up the game, to leave the crumbs. I was trying to give them as much information as I could without being obvious that I was giving it. ”

  “Why not just give in and tell the truth to the Maddoxes?”

  “I was scared. I knew that my existence was over, one way or another eventually. I grasped for every small moment that I could even though at one point I was forced to go radio silent.”

  “Are you going to seek out the family?” Reed asks after several moments of silence.

  “It’s a goal, but it’s not one of my immediate goals.”

  “Let’s discuss these goals. What have you got?”

  I tell him about my current priorities and once I finish, he sets his elbows on his desk and leans forward.

  “How do you plan to meet that last challenge?”

  “I have no idea,” I say honestly.

  Mika

  Around lunchtime, I receive a text message from Janet saying Brad came in to see my brother without an appointment. A bit of concern edges into my mind, but I continue on with my day and make sure that all my rounds and charting is finished before packing up for the day.

  I make my way home and do all I can not to think of the guy who has had my wet panties in a twist for the past several days. I contemplate going to the gym, but I don’t want to risk embarrassing myself any more than I did during my last gym encounter with Brad.

  I’m home for twenty minutes at the most when my phone starts vibrating in my purse. Digging through the bottomless pit, I finally get a grasp on the damn gadget, yank it out and put to my ear.

  “Yello?”

  “Food,” Reed grumbles on the other end.

  “What about it?”

  “I want some.”

  “Then go get some. Why are you calling me with this revelation?”

  “Meet me for dinner. I’m sure that you don’t have much happening in your kitchen at the moment.” He makes a bold statement, only to be correct.

  “Well, considering that I ju
st got home, of course nothing is happening in there. Food doesn’t magically cook itself no matter how many Harry Potter spells I attempt. Plus, you know me; I’m not Suzy Homemaker.”

  “Your poor future husband,” he tsks.

  “Yeah, the poor imaginary man,” I agree.

  Marriage has never been in my mind as something I would do. Our parents always had grand ideas for their baby girl to get married young, but I strived to do everything that they said I wouldn’t do.

  Don’t go onto college. Marry that high school boyfriend of yours. I broke up with him before the ink on my diploma was dry.

  Become a stay at home mother. I’d rather be a working mother.

  Live with a roommate; it’s safer that way. I’d rather live alone. It makes watching television in my underwear easier, at least when I have the house to myself. I try to remember to lock the doors when I’m not home, meh Reed lives next door, there’s my safety.

  Go for a job that’s easy and expected, like receptionist. Stay away from anything complex or dangerous. I’d rather work in the medical field where I can use all my abilities – my smarts, my savvy, my strength – to help people.

  “So, food?” Reed asks again, bringing me back to the present.

  “Sure. Where?”

  “I dunno.” he says non-commitally.

  “Well, isn’t that something that you should have thought about before calling me?” I retort.

  “How about that pub, the one down the street from that smelly gym you go to? Is Jare there?”

  “No, he’s not here tonight. Give me thirty minutes?”

  “Sure, just hurry. Want me to come over while you get ready and wait for you?” he asks.

  “No, I want to shower the hospital smell off of me first. I’ll see you there.”

  I take my time in the shower, then do a quick fix on my hair before I pull it into a bun on top of my head. I add a dusting of makeup before leaving my place and walking the three blocks to the pub.

  When I first walk into Jameson’s Pub, it’s dark, but my eyes adjust quickly and I take in my surroundings. There are old-fashioned stained glass pendant lights hanging over each booth along the wall. In the center of the space is a pool table surrounded by scattered tables. The dark hardwoods on the floor, the walls, and the bartop are brightened by lime green and bright yellow accents throughout the interior. Outdated alcohol posters and neon signs, some with suggestive catch phrases, crowd the limited wall space. The bar itself smells like stale beer and pine-scented cleaner, and while the place is fairly clean, there is always a bunch of peanut shells littering the floor. The jukebox in the corner is stocked with music from the 1960s and is always blaring. Some patrons of the bar are standing and some are sitting, and several are drunk as hell.

  My eyes scan the crowd and I see my brother sitting in a booth across from a broad-shouldered man in a t-shirt with his back to me. From this vantage point, I can see his broad shoulders. His arms aren’t too big and they aren’t too small. The mystery man gestures with both his arms as he talks excitedly, causing the muscles of his back to contract and relax with the movements. I try to not drool as I observe. I’m not one for really big muscles, I like a guy who has a somewhat nice and toned body. This stranger has a lot of beef and I’d be willing to sink my teeth into all of it.

  Reed notices me and waves in my direction. I begin to approach the booth just as the stranger turns around and all the air is knocked out of me. Those hypnotic blue eyes meet mine and hold them. I keep my pace slow and finally come to stand at the end of their table.

  “Look who I ran into.” Reed smiles and motions to Brad.

  “Random.” I smile back.

  “I live a block away,” Reed interjects. “This is where I come when I don’t feel like cooking, or have to go grocery shopping.”

  “Funny. Mika can’t cook, so she comes here because they know how to operate both a keg and grill,” Reed jokes.

  I roll my eyes. “Will one of you move over? I walked here and I’m tired,” I whine.

  Brad immediately scoots over and I wait a minute to see if Reed does the same. No dice. Reluctantly, I sit beside Brad and do my best to leave a healthy gap in between us. His arm naturally goes over the back of the booth, his fingers just inches away from my shoulder.

  “You were saying that you started up at that gym across the street? Mika goes there too,” Reed points out.

  “Yeah, we’ve run into each other there,” I say, feeling my face get red.

  My brother looks between the two of us sitting across from him. I try my best to act normal, as if Brad’s presence isn’t affecting me in the slightest. Reed quirks his eyebrow and then takes a pull of his beer.

  “Is it against some kind of code of ethics to have an alcoholic beverage with your client?” I ask, looking between the two.

  “Probably, but our meet-up wasn’t planned. Plus, your brother looked lonely,” Brad says with a laugh in his voice.

  A few times, Brad’s fingers have grazed the top of my shoulder, sending goosebumps along the length of my body. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, but I school in my features and act cool. As if the guy sitting next to me hasn’t been the main attraction in my nightly dreams. I sit numbly beside him while doing my best to not picture him naked. However, with his massive body next to mine, his smell engulfing my senses, I am absolutely picturing him naked.

  Upon returning home with Reed by my side, I rush to my side of the house as soon as the walkway is in sight to retrieve the package that was delivered while we were at the pub before my brother can grab it. He did that before; he picked up and opened a package from my doorstep and it turned out to be his birthday present.

  Mortified.

  Mortified is how I would feel if he were to open my package right now.

  Thankfully, Reed didn’t even notice the box sitting in front of my door with a light shining down on it as approach the house. Angels were standing over it, singing, and the closer I got, the louder they became.

  Just kidding. There’s nothing of the sort, just my package.

  My kinky package.

  Like an excited child, I jump up and down before picking up the box, unlocking the front door and making a beeline for the stairs. I don’t even bother saying good night to Reed as he goes to his place.

  Before Brad appeared in my life, I never felt the need to masturbate frequently. I was fine with flicking my bean once a week, but now the need is constant. I’ve run into him several times since we met and each time, I've left his presence with wet knickers and a racing heartbeat!

  I use a pen to slice open the box and then pull out the additional unmarked box inside, pry open the second box and pull out my shiny new vibrator. It is an angel chorus moment; it seems like the room dims and a spotlight shines on the object in my hand. “Object” is not the best word to describe the vibrator. This thing is quite intimidating. The handle part holds a control panel that looks crazy, as the dick side is in the shape of an actual dick, with a hummingbird clit massager. This thing is quite the vibrator.

  Placing the vibrator on my bed, I rummage through my nightstand for batteries. After inserting them, fiddle around with the buttons to get familiar with their functions. There are five total and I am suddenly unsure of my purchase. The vibrator thrusts, rotates and pretty much replicates an actual penis and the whole sexing action. The shaft even feels real. The middle button switches the direction of the beads that snake around the shaft. The sensations those beads could create had me especially curious. Now that I know what each button does, I am less scared of the device. Still, I figure that until I try it out for myself, I will always be intimidated of it.

  My pants and panties are removed together in one swift pull and lay on the bed with my legs spread. I place the vibrator in between my legs, look down to remember the placement of my fingers on the buttons, and then slowly begin to insert it into me while turning it on. It’s a foreign feeling at first, and then I press the thrusti
ng button to activate that function and my eyes widen along with my legs. My hips instinctively lift off the bed. I press the button to increase the thrusting and then I push another button and suddenly the hummingbird, which teases the clit, begins humming and pressing at the perfect point.

  Holeeeeeeeee-shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

  I’m pretty sure that if I keep my eyes open, they’d bulge out of my head. The pleasure is intense. I can feel the thrusting mimicking a cock and I’m not exactly sure what to do with my hips. I may not need a man ever again with this thing. I squeeze my eyes closed and start to see colors behind my lids as my orgasm takes over. My back arches, my toes curl and my available hand is gripping the sheets. A noise that I’m not even sure came out of me echoes through the room as my pussy clenches around the vibrating member. Still lying across my bed, I keep the rotating beads going at the tail end of my orgasm and pant like a dog in need of water. I slowly pull the device out and hold it up at eye level.

  “I shall dub thee Mr. T,” I say to the vibrator breathlessly, still reeling from the orgasm.

  After a moment, I start to sit up and my pussy is still vibrating. My battery-powered thrill-ride also stimulated quite a bit of wetness, so I toddle to the hallway bathroom - still sans britches - to clean myself up and wash off Mr. T.

  My entire body feels completely relaxed. That is, until I hear the front door open and close downstairs.

  Ugh, why doesn’t Reed knock?

  I run into my bedroom as quietly as possible and put on some pants. I try to tame my hair, which got messed up during my self-pleasure session, and exit my bedroom to find my brother going through my fridge.

  “Seriously, you need to learn how to knock,” I say from the entryway of the kitchen with my hand on my hips.

  “You need to learn how to lock the front door.”

  “It’s my house, I’ll do as I please!”

  “You’re a single female living in the city.”

  “This isn’t really the city.”