Devil In The Waters, Book 3, Chapter 12 (complete) (Patreon)

After Mom died, Pop had stayed single for the longest time, all through her university years, and didn’t get a female friend until he’d sold his jewelry businesses and moved to Markham. Susan Araki looked thirty-five, so when Pop first introduced the woman to her as “his friend,” she’d worried. But Susan was fifty-two, the same age as her dad. Josh was in the kitchen with her now helping her bake, so Kimmy sat at the dining room table with her father sharing a small pot of green tea.

Pop was obsessed with her new job, asking again about the view from her office. She said, “I told you: it’s nothing that special.” Part of the reason she’d been enticed by the job offer from Devlin (hidden and unsaid but powerful) was the knowledge her father would find some peace in it. Not just peace, but pride. Try explaining to your workaholic father that after six years of university you pick a law firm with humble salary and limited room for advancement. Pop never complained (only insinuated), but her sister told her how he was disappointed. So, for the moment, she’d bask in the glow of his satisfaction. “But, I tell you what,” she said to her dad, “give me a month there, come by one day and see it. We’ll go out for lunch.”

Pop said, “See what that painting looks like on the wall.”

It would be great if he’d come, but it wasn’t likely—he worked six days a week, often seven. Since selling the three jewelry stores (in Kingston, Gananoque, and Cornwall), he’d opened a new one in Agincourt, and it was as busy now as the other three combined.

Josh came into the dining room now, ahead of Susan and holding a tray of sugar cookies; Susan trailed, holding a cake pedestal with a small but elaborate Black Forest. Together, her husband and the woman her father wouldn’t admit was his girlfriend, arranged the offering on the table on either side of the tea setting. While Susan was born and raised in Japan and the meal she prepared today was traditional, a Hiyashi chūka with ham and egg, and a cold tomato soup to start, she had a passion for Western-style baking. Josh always got excited coming to see Pop and Susan, just to see what the woman baked next.

She said to Susan, “Is this where Josh takes credit for making dessert?”

“I’ll have you know,” Josh said, “I put these cookies in the oven all by myself. Where would we be without me?”

Susan patted his arm. She liked Josh as much as Josh liked her.

Pop said to Josh, “Have you been to her new office?”

“Not invited,” Josh said, with charm for her father’s sake, who had no idea of Josh’s past with her new boss.

“You be a good boy, maybe she change her mind,” Pop said, grabbing and shaking Josh’s upper arm then laughing. She looked in Josh’s eyes trying to command him: Don’t bring it up. It’s not my father’s business.

Susan returned to the kitchen and filled the kettle. Pop asked Josh how he was doing at Swanson. Her phone dinged in her purse slung over the back of her chair, and with Josh and Pop talking and Susan away from the table, she took the opportunity to check her messages. It was the second message coming in since they’d been in Pop’s condo.

It was a text from Devlin asking her what she did on Saturdays that had her away from her phone since she couldn’t answer his first message. She texted him back saying she was having lunch with her dad and what was he doing texting on a Saturday afternoon since she knew he wasn’t working. He texted he was at the Rogers Centre with a whiskey waiting for the Jays game to start and wondered how she was doing. 

Right—the Jays game. He’d arranged suite seats standing outside the cargo container while she’d cleaned herself with his kerchief because he’d fingered her so well her orgasm had her squirting all over her legs. She hadn’t seen or talked directly to him since driving back from Hamilton and couldn’t help wondering if he’d be manipulative enough to coincide his text to her as a reminiscence. He knew she knew he’d booked Jays tickets because she chastised him for it back in the Mercedes, mad at his indifference in the cargo container. Which was stupid—what did she expect, he’d stay with her and help her clean her mess?

“Sounds like you’re both doing well,” her father said to Josh. “Two future vice-presidents.” Now Pop held up his tea cup, and the others joined in. She swapped the phone to her other hand and raised her tea cup as well.

Josh sipped tea, looked to her and said quietly, “Should you be doing that at the table?” Meaning her phone.

She said, “It’s work,” for her father’s ears so she wouldn’t get in trouble.

Pop said to Josh, “Let her—it’s okay,” patting Josh’s forearm. “She has to make good impression, let them know she work hard. I forgive her today.” Now Pop smiled her way.

She smiled in return, said, “I should take this,” wagging the phone at them.

Pop excused her, but Josh made a mild expression of exasperation. But now he and her Pop would be in their glory, planning grand-babies together. Her sister hadn’t done it yet, either, and her Pop was probably ready to explode. He’d taken the failed pregnancy as bad as she did.

She stepped away from the table, walked toward the living room and stood by the windows that looked out over the industrial park stretch of Markham, a swath of green where the Rouge would run.

She texted.

Kimmy: trying to annoy me, sending a message from the Jays game?

Devlin: you still sore?

She chuckled. 

Kimmy: I know your games

Devlin: You only think you do

Kimmy: you’re admitting this isn’t about work?

There was a long moment before he returned a message. She watched cars sliding along left and right on the 407, beyond the green-space, sun winking off their hump shapes. Her phone dinged.

Devlin: how we doing on the paperwork for Chow? We good?

Kimmy: all good

Devlin: how about the other thing? am I going to have to fire you?

Kimmy: I’m working on it

Devlin: that’s good. enough business. I need you on Monday night

Another sly chuckle, she put her gold pendant in her mouth, zipped her necklace chain back and forth through its loop; texted.

Kimmy: and... what do you need me for?

Devlin: first, get your mind out of the gutter

Kimmy: my mind is nowhere near the gutter. my mind is squeaky clean

Now she glanced to the table, saw that Josh was embroiled in close conversation with her Pop and Susan, and she stepped further away, deeper into Pop’s living room where he kept all his furniture spotless and gleaming like no one had ever sat in here before.

Devlin: so if I asked for a picture of your cooch I probably won’t get one?

Kimmy: not a chance.

Devlin: saves me asking I guess

Now she was full-on smiling, chain in her mouth, running the pendant up and down the links, making it zip and vibrate against her pressed lips. A glance over her shoulder showed her family still talking, drinking tea, and eating cake. She went to the divan, an ebony monster with Chinoiserie fabric, turned and sat down but kept her face lowered to her phone.

Kimmy: feel free to send me a picture of that dick

She covered her own mouth, not even believing she actually texted that. But, shit, it was a Saturday, and this definitely wasn’t a work related matter. This was just two people talking, and it had nothing to do with her job.

She fanned her own face, trying not to break out laughing. She waited for an answer, secretly hoping that an image would pop up. But it didn’t, just another text.

Devlin: don’t think your phone has enough storage

Kimmy: that’s not how phones work

Devlin: oh okay then hold on

Kimmy: don’t you dare

Devlin: you want it or not?

She chewed her lip; her cheeks dimpled—she could feel them dimpled—chewing her lower lip and trying not to burst out laughing, trying not even to smile. What would Josh think, turning around and seeing her on the phone yet again dealing with Devlin? And smiling? He was already mad. She got up again, went near the window and leaned an elbow on the ledge, texting in return.

Kimmy: go ahead if you want, it’s your phone

Devlin: I’m afraid I can’t whip it out here I’m sitting in the suites

Kimmy: don’t worry about it then another time

Devlin: hang tight

What did she think she was doing? Why would she be texting with Devlin this? First of all, why would she be doing it at all? Second, why would she be doing it when she was having lunch with her dad? Using this opportunity to flirt with her boss while her husband was probably chatting about their future . . . Well, that was probably exactly why. Let them plan for the future, let her deal with the present. The present was about doing this thing. Finally doing it. Getting it over with. And enjoying it, because you know you’re going to enjoy it, don’t act like you’re not.

That was the thing, dealing with Devlin got her heart racing. More and more, just being around him had her only thinking about sex. Even now she could feel the heat at her core. Her stomach was warm, and it had nothing to do with the green tea. No, it was all about Devlin. Her husband’s bully, of all people. The man who’d sent some other dude across the street to punch Joshy in the stomach and get his jacket from him. The one who’d left her husband with an emotional scar, probably crying in the rain. What a shitty person she was. What a shitty person Devlin was two. One time was all it would be . . . 

Her phone dinged.

Devlin: you sure you’re up for this?

Kimmy: I’ve cleared off all my phones hard drive. Lots of room for a picture of your giant dick

Devlin: you got me wanting to leave the game. Where are you?

Kimmy: told you. I’m at my pops place

Devlin: you texting me from your pops?

Kimmy: you texted me. I’m answering.

Devlin: I was just messing around, now I’m seriously getting the fuck out of the Jays game. Meet me somewhere

Kimmy: can’t. I’m in Markham. Enjoy your game

Devlin: here. picture for you. One from the archives, a classic…

Shit. He’d really sent a picture. She glanced over at Josh—still in close conversation with her dad. Josh talking with his hands, low to the table, telling them about what? Plans for their future? Assuring her father the babies were on the way? Pop had babies on the brain . . . 

She pivoted, walked away to where no one could see her, walking out of the view from the dining room, deeper into the living room, stepping down into the family room and standing by dad’s big screen TV.

She touched the thumbnail image, already seeing in its small size a man standing with no clothes, and even at that tiny picture size could see the scale of his penis compared to his legs. And holy shit there it was. A real live picture just for her. Or, more accurately, probably for plenty of girls. As he’d said, it was a classic, one from the archives. Probably one of his favorite dick pictures that he loved to send to girls. But at least he’d sent it to her.

Good Lord, was it incredible. She’d touched that huge penis. Put her hands on that man’s hard and muscular body. And look at him . . . Standing across from a mirror, phone held up, handsome face studying his phone’s screen while he clicked the picture. Probably’d just worked out. God, she could even imagine a guy like Devlin might’ve gone to work out specifically to get pumped up for a good dick picture. It was worth it.

Muscles stood out all over, shoulders bulging, his chest a hard slab completely delineated from the swoop of his lats and narrow stomach. Hair on his chest, down his abdomen pointing to his bellybutton. He had stomach muscles, and he was flexing them. Vain, but she didn’t care because he looked so fucking hot. And his dick . . . Legitimately halfway down his thigh. Enormous. How could he wear pants? But it wasn’t upright and erect and ready to be pushed up inside her body (even though it was covered with her saliva and semen). Some of the girls who’d received this picture maybe never got to sleep with him. Never got to see his dick hard. Never got to feel his big hands on them. But she had. Believe it or not, Kimmy Chang had been with Devlin Stone.

Not all the way, but it was only a matter of time . . . 

Kimmy: I love it

Devlin: how about that coochie pic now?

Kimmy: in your dreams,

She laughed out loud, then covered her mouth. Opened up the picture again, studied Devlin’s incredible naked body. Went back to the text.

Kimmy: what’s Monday? But I warn you my mind is fully in the gutter now

Devlin: you put it there. I need you for work on Monday.

Kimmy: shoot

Devlin: don’t worry, it’s drinks. Drinks with a couple of people I want you to meet, potential clients.

Kimmy: Chinese?

Devlin: no. Believe it or not I need you for more things than the languages you speak

Kimmy: pretty face?

Devlin: now you get it

She laughed again, feeling more comfortable talking with Devlin where no one could see her.

Kimmy: what’s it about?

Devlin: drinks at the bar at the Royal York. After work.

Drinks. After work. At night. At a hotel. And after drinks? . . . 

Kimmy: I’ll be there