Free Zandor by Mj Fields Page A

and he thanked her with a wink. “Your vibrator should be Zandor, and I can name my masturbatory hand after you.”
    I looked up at the waitress and she gasped and walked away.
    “You’re a jackass.”
    “Why?” he cut up his steak and took a huge bite, chewed and swallowed. “She wants to fuck me , Bekah, now she knows she can’t. That’s why you’re the Mrs. and I masturbate with a hand named after you.”
    “Do you think every woman wants you?”
    He looked at me confused as he chewed yet another monster bite of steak. “Until one proves me otherwise, yeah I do. Only one chick…well now two, have ever said no.” He smiled and grabbed a forkful of home fries. “Open.”
    I did and it was good.
    He smiled as if he was proud of himself.
    He started to cut up the pancakes . “I can do it.”
    “If you don’t eat, I’m gonna force feed you.”
    I looked up into his warm, enticing, sandy-brown beaches, and I felt okay. And for a few moments I allowed myself to bask in them, shamelessly and without reservation.
    ~
    We’re in the SUV getting ready to get back on the interstate when he asks me to pick out some music.
    “Is there a plug in for my phone?” I looked around.
    “I have no idea, just got her.Look in the glove box for a manual.”
    “Yeah, how did that happen?”
    “She was delivered a few days ago. I put my Baby up for the winter.”
    “Okay , so it just shows up?”
    “It should, damn thing cost enough.”
    “You make that kind of money at the shop?”
    “Nah, I have another job , too.”
    “Oh , when do you have time for it, you’re always at the shop.”
    “Vacation time.”
    “And you choose to spend it working?”
    “It’s not work to me. I love that place.”
    “Piercing make it more enjoyable?”
    “ It’s art, I think we’ve talked about this before. Self-growth, self-expression, self…”
    “Self-serve bar .” I laughed.
    “What do you mean?” he smirked and pulled his sunglasses off the dash.
    “They come in asking for you, Zandor.”
    “Oh, the women?”
    “Yeah the women!”
    “Well the job does have some benefits.”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Shoot.”
    “Why married women?”
    He let out a breath and slouched, “If I tell you, you can’t laugh.”
    “I won’t,” I really hoped I wouldn’t.
    “We moved around a lot when I was younger. No attachments or relationships were formed. When we moved to the shore, things were a bit crazy. A couple people I knew had some real shit things happen to them in the relationship department so I avoided it at all costs. However, I really liked to fuck. I didn’t wanna bang the girls I saw every day. Didn’t want the drama. I played baseball, traveled to other schools. Sniffed around them a lot. Met some cool friends, so I scratched in other neighborhoods.”
    “Like married women?”
    “No, Bekah, girls my age or a little older. I didn’t start fucking around with married women until I was about eighteen.”
    “That’s young.”
    “Yep,” he smirked.
    “Okay so why, don’t you think it’s wrong?”
    “Sure, but their husbands were always cheating fucks.” He looked over at me, “You promised not to laugh.”
    “Well it’s kind of funny.”
    “Nothing funny about cheating.”
    “But you banged them knowing they were married so that makes you as bad.”
    “Sure I feel that way now but back then I was like…I don’t know, the Robin Hood of pussy,” he chuckled.
    “The Robin Hood of pussy , huh?”
    “Yep , I gave them back what was stolen from them by their asshole husbands.”
    “And what’s that?”
    He cocked his head in that little cocky way. “The feeling of being desired. The feeling of being empowered. The feeling that someone gave a shit enough to get them off. I gave them back their swag.”
    “The Robin Hood of pussy .”
    “What are you laughing at? You’re like the Gandhi of cock.”
    I snickered and he smiled his big beautiful bright smile. I wished I could see his