Free Shifting Gears by Jenny Hayut Page A

watching me. Waiting for me to
speak.
    I shift my eyes away from him to see
Laine approaching with our coffees. She sets the two piping hot
mugs on the table and glances from me to Holt then back to me
again.
    “Everything okay, honey?” She looks
concerned. I’ve been coming here so regularly that she and I have
become friends. Not outside the diner, but whenever I come for my
coffee and turnover, if it’s slow, she’ll sit with me. We talk
about her beloved Pip, a beagle, and her always-emotional
boyfriend, who, she says, cries more than should legally be allowed
for a man.
    “Yeah, thanks, I’m good. Thanks,
Laine.” I force a smile.
    “Okay, honey. Well, just holler if you
need me.” She looks back at Holt. “You good, handsome? Just the
coffee?”
    “Yes, sweets. I’m good, thank
you.”
    Relieved to find something to do with
my mouth, I lift the mug to take a sip. I need to get away from
him. I can feel myself caving, wanting to give in to him, to give
him what he wants. Shit, what I want. Bad.
    “I need to go to the ladies’ room.
I’ll be back,” I say, trying my best to hide my now-trembling
voice.
    If someone had told me two weeks ago
that I would be in Sammy’s, in the middle of the night, in one of
the cramped stalls in the bathroom, fucking myself, I would’ve
laughed. This is not something I do. I’m not that desperate for
sexual gratification that I would resort to such a thing, at least
not in a public place. But the thought of Holt only feet away,
sitting in that booth, overcomes me with such raging desire that I
can’t help but thrust my fingers in and out of my wetness to ease
the pain. I moan, unable to control the sound of my pleasure,
praying to God no one walks in at that exact moment.
    After a few more minutes of snuck
pleasure, I get myself together, clean myself up, and glare at my
reflection in the mirror. The flush is still in my cheeks. Maybe he
won’t notice...
    I keep my head lowered as I make my
way back over to the booth. I’m almost past the counter when I hear
my name. Shit. I reluctantly lift my head and look over my shoulder
to see Beth, my technician, sitting at the counter. Great. Just
great. Not only is she going to see that I’m with a client, but
that it’s Holt, the one person I told her I didn’t know.
    Damn it, Niki, don’t you
have any fucking self-control?
    I push away my anxiety and hope she
can’t see what I’m hiding. Sheer bliss. Still. “Hi, Beth. How are
you?”
    “I’m great, Dr. Stringer.” She turns
to her left to speak to the girl sitting beside her. “Christy, this
is my boss, Dr. Stringer.”
    “Nice to meet you, Christy,” I say,
dying to walk right out the damned door, right past Holt, and
escape far, far away. Damn it, I let him drive me here. I’m
fidgeting. I can feel it. Still coming down from my climax. I want
more again already.
    “I heard it was busy tonight, and that
Miffy came through after getting hit by a car.”
    Beth was dating Joe, one of our kennel
staff, who’d worked shift tonight too, so I didn’t question how she
knew.
    “Yeah. Thankfully, no major injuries,
and after a few days in observation, he should be able to go
home.”
    “That’s good.”
    After the exchange, there’s an awkward
silence. I’m shifting back and forth, uncomfortable in my
now-soaked panties. I catch her gaze lingering in Holt’s direction,
and I turn to look his way. He’s sitting there, arm stretched
across the booth, staring at me, and with a look I remember. Sheer
desire. I instantly heat up again. My body trembles, perhaps a
leftover spasm from my work in the bathroom. I turn back to Beth,
who’s already looking at me again. Shit. She saw me staring at
him.
    “So, umm, I guess I’ll see you
tomorrow, Doctor,” Beth says, breaking the silence.
    “Yes. Have a good night, Beth. Nice
meeting you, Christy.”
    I walk away before they can say
anything, but instead of making my getaway, my feet lead me
straight to the table