Ferall Shorts: Mr. Flynn

Under the sweltering heat I can feel my coveralls begin to stick to me. A sheen of sweat coat my dark skin as I thank the dark mother for my upward reaching curls crowning from my head and messily tied into a bun. Hours of grueling work in this heat had me feeling resentful. However, being the only female among the other laborers, I made it my business to step up. They never made me feel unwelcomed. They appreciated my hard work ethic and tenacity. I was after all, the daughter of a marine. Therefore, I had a lot to live up to. My father and I would spend hours in the back yard sparring. Instilling fear into the neighbors who took his vigorous training as child abuse. They'd peep through the cracks of their neighboring white picket fences. Clutching their pearls, they'd squawk and complain to their husbands about the disturbing screams.

"Don't be weak!" My father would yell after knocking wind from me with a powerful blow. I'd struggle to my feet with him towering above me. "Society does not see women like you as dainty princesses to protect. Best learn to protect yourself, cause no one else will. Now get the fuck up!" His words would echo in my mind every day. Whenever my back felt sore from a week of twelve-hour shifts, I'd hear his voice. Or when I noticed my hard work failing to provide the results or appreciation I had anticipated. Not a day went by that my father wasn't proven right. I was no princess nor was I seen as such and I had to work my ass off for a fraction of what my labor was worth. Being battle ready and prepared to defend myself was paramount, because in my reality, no one else would. So here I was under near hundred-degree weather, working my ass off with my blue-collar brethren.

Some yuppie in a log cabin, nestled in the woods on the edge of a lake's shore, hired us to build what I was told would be a pool house in his backyard. Noon came and we took a much needed lunch break. That's when he decided to grace us with his presence. When usually he delegated from afar. In black jeans, a black blazer, navy blue button down and black dress shoes, Mr. Flynn strutted into the work site. Chestnut hair pulled into a low tight bun. A jaw line squared and accompanied by a sharp nose and fine lips. Once close enough, I saw his eyes. A pale winter green that felt unsettling to look at. Like looking into the eyes of a snake. He stood there and took a gander at the near finished product then at his paid laborers. We sat together in a huddle on a dug-up dirt patch.

"And so the Prince decides to grace us with his presence." I hear myself mutter.

"Very nice, gentlemen-" His eyes leered over to me. "And lady." I rolled my eyes. Fucking pretty boy. I thought. A small smirk crept on his face as I did not make my disdain a secret. He offered to let us eat our lunch in his lavish home to take a break from the searing sun. All but I accepted at first. Something about the gesture made me feel pitiful. As if he saw us as charity. Yeah, the job is filthy but it's still a job and it paid well. And I am no one's charity. After some pestering from the rest of the gang, I caved and followed them into the house too big for one person. Enjoying the central air, we sat at Mr. Flynn's dining table. They all engaged in locker room talk while I silently listened with a smile.

"You're one sick mother fucker you know that?" I teased Noah.

"What? She was legal!"

"Oh yeah she's legal. In Japan." I mocked. The sound of bellowing laughter echoed throughout the kitchen.

"You're always bustin' my balls, D.J." Noah chuckled.

"Nah, that's your wife's job." I gave my friend a playful punch to the arm.

"Would any of you like a drink?" Mr. Flynn interjected. A brief silence befell us and we exchanged looks.

"Uh, water will work just fine Mr. Flynn." Noah croaked.

"I rather have a Guinness with a shot." I heard myself mutter, not realizing I was heard loud and clear. My co-workers chuckled a bit and to my surprise Mr. Flynn gave something of a subdued laugh. A lopsided smirk crept on his face coupled with an arch brow. Attraction started to grow like a small tendril in the pit of my stomach. Thankfully, I am the master of deception and veiled my slight interest with a bored disposition. He took swift steps to his double door fridge and brought back a case of Guinness to the dining table. With a beer opener handy, Mr. Flynn popped the cap before offering me the bottle. I hesitated. Drinking on the job is not the best idea. However, I'm a sucker for a cold sweaty bottle of Guinness. Especially when served by a man as visually stunning as, him. Mr. Flynn's smile broadened once I reached for the bottle.

"Thanks." I said, well aware my tone came off more dismissive than thankful. He didn't let go of the bottle right then. Instead, he uncurled a single finger to gently stroke my grimy hand with it. A shiver slithered down my spine and I visibly squirmed. Something of a satisfied grunt sounded from him and he wore a knowing smirk on his face.

"You're welcome, Miss. I'm sorry but I can't provide you with a shot." His baritone voice smooth and sultry like honey, his tone playful. Made me wonder what he sounded like when caught in pleasure's unrelenting clutches. Easy ole girl, calm your cunt. I remind myself.

"How long have you been working with Mr. Riles and his employees? I don't remember seeing you the last time I had work done to my estate." And why would the Prince notice the last few days I have been here adding to his little kingdom? With a lazy shrug I replied,

"Been working with Noah for a few months now. And please, I'm D.J. Not a 'Miss'." My words saturated in sarcasm. Mr. Flynn only seemed amused by this and continued to chat with me. Small talk is my least favorite subject and here I was stuck in the middle of it.

"D.J.? What's it short for?"

"Désirée Jones." I answered.

"Beautiful name. A woman working in construction is seldom seen. What made you choose this profession?" Asked Mr. Flynn, now handing out beers to all. My bottom lip found itself pinched between my teeth as I debated on whether I should answer or not. I'm not one for opening up to strangers. Particularly strangers from the upper echelons of society. I am an anarchist at heart and we anarchist don't take kindly to rich pretty boys. Despite my love of working with my hands, how I ended up in this profession was only the result of tragic circumstance. My Marine father had died overseas before I cross the various milestones of adolescence. In his absence, I joined the armed forces to help pave a path for me. Between the crippling student loan debt, my medical release from the Army after a decade of service, and the total lack of familial support, I had no choice but to grab the first job that paid worth a damn. My gender and its relation to my current occupation had hardly been an afterthought. Typical of me. Always preoccupied with the things I needed to do versus, well, everything else.

"D.J. knows how to wield a hammer. Had to have her on my team. She actually gets shit done unlike these lazy bums!" Noah rested a beefy hand on my shoulder and I smiled. Mr. Flynn nodded as if satisfied with Noah's answer. Those crystalline emerald eyes still fixated on mine. God, I hate when people stare at me. I groaned inwardly. Mr. Flynn sauntered off with the swagger of a lazy feline. For someone so tall and broad, the grace of his gait was a bit unexpected. He stepped out into his backyard to take a gander at his new pool house. Leaving his hired laborers to finish up their lunch hour. Once out of sight, Noah nudged me in my side.

"I think he likes you." Noah winked. I felt the bridge of my nose wrinkle from my face twisting into all sorts of disapproving expressions. Throwing the beer bottle back I took a generous and well-deserved gulp of my favored stout.

"That chestnut haired pretty boy? Please. Can't fuck with a dude who probably never developed a callus in his life." I scoffed.

"That pretty boy got money. Get in good with him he can be your sugar daddy. Won't have to work with our sweaty asses anymore."

"By the Gods..." I cackled. "Nah, I'll pass. Besides, pain builds character. And being around you sweaty fucks is the definition of pain."

"You bitch." Noah shot back with a playful flick at my ear.

"Correction, bitch with character."

We laughed and I instantly remembered why, despite what led me here, I loved my job. Lunch came to an end and we spent the rest of our time cleaning up while Noah gave Mr. Flynn a grand tour of his expensive addition to his estate. One by one, my team peeled off until I was the last to leave. Be the first on the scene and the last to leave, is what I was always taught. I didn't have to stay. But I offered to clean the rest of the debris and unused material so my friends can get home to their wives and children. Things I knew nothing of and planned to keep it that way. Being alone had its perks even if loneliness reared its ugly head from time to time. Having no reason to return home in a timely fashion, I didn't mind putting in the extra time. Storm clouds began looming over head and the smell of rain warned of an impending shower. Damn it. I picked up the pace in attempt to beat the race against mother nature. Too preoccupied with trying to hurry the process up, I hadn't notice Mr. Flynn standing behind my turned back.

"May I help you with that?" Being the skittish thing that I am, I nearly stumbled into the pool before Mr. Flynn caught me in his strong arms. That very moment, it became apparent to me that this man stood a good foot above my five-foot four frame and my shoulders just barely reached the width of his chest. His pale fingers gripped my arms with unexpected firmness. And for a moment, my ass grazed against something pressed against his trousers. Something that rested on his thigh and was monstrously thick. My inner beast growled with need and just as fast I put the bitch back in her cage.

"Holy fuck!" I jumped and spun around all at once.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to offer my assistance." He wore a boyish smile and I felt the softer side of me swoon. Easy dumb ass, don't even look at this dude. For a moment I had no words until I said,

"Um, no. I got it from here. There isn't much left." I continued to work.

"Well, it's looking like rain. And when it rains here the bridge down the lone road into town tends to flood..." He grabbed hold of the metal pipe in my hand in attempt to assist me. "I highly doubt you want to be stuck here with me all night." Cold unblinking eyes stared into mine and an overwhelming sense of unease washed over me. As if those green eyes could see under my clothes. Or see pass my stoic demeanor and unveil my hidden attraction. I'm an absolute sucker for green eyes. Resistant, I gave him a quick nod.

"Sure. Yeah, you can help."

Awkward would be an understatement for how I felt. This man either failed at basic social etiquette or he simply gave no fucks. As he made it no secret that he was eyeing me from head to toe. Almost like a curious child not knowing what to make of me. No layer of coveralls, dirt covered tanks and steeled toed boots could make me feel less naked under his gaze. We worked in silence until rain burst from the heavens, sending us rushing inside his home.

"Son of bitch!" I hissed as my feet slipped and skidded against the wet kitchen tiles. Mr. Flynn gave me a light chuckle and handed me a kitchen towel. I toweled off my face before I noticed him taking off his drenched blazer and under shirt. His dark hair somehow unraveled out of its low bun and fell against his shoulders. Rain water rolled over every veiny muscle. His low-cut jeans failed to clothe the V-cut of his pelvis disappearing into his pants and my hungry cunt throbbed. I have to get the fuck up out of here. I thought to myself in a panic. Before he could utter a word to me, I quickly bid him a goodbye and hurried to my rust bucket of a car. Within the hour I made it to the bridge.

However long I drove, it was long enough for the bridge to be partially submerged in water. I decided there was enough surface area to attempt the risk. I just wanted to get home and as far away from that fucking pretty boy as humanly possible. All went well for a few moments as my balding tires treaded through the rushing water. The river below, however, was rising quick and I had to move fast. My foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor and my car jerked forward only to be slowed down by the flooding river. A stream of obscenities fled from my lips until my car came to a complete halt and sat in the river like a sitting duck. Then, to my horror, the distant sound of rushing waters pulled my attention to my right. The river was rushing through its narrowed path and rising above the low bridge. Only option left was to abandon ship. I hopped out into waters coming midway up my calf.

"Sonofa-blerg!" My sudden outburst cut short by my stumbling face first into the river beneath me. In a panicked scramble I regain footing. A horn honked in the distance and I caught the high beams of a car behind me. Mr. Flynn stepped out of the passenger seat.

"Miss! Are you alright?!" He yelled over the pounding rain. Between struggling through choppy currents that nearly swept my feet off balance, and trying to see through my wild coils weighed down by the rain, I could only answer with a sputtering,

"F-fuck! God...da-fudge muncher!" Mr. Flynn grabbed hold of me and helped me into his car then rushed back to his seat.

"Good thing I followed you. I told you the bridge floods rather quickly when it rains here. I meant to have a new one built when I bought the property. Never got around to it."

"Yeah, well call me a stubborn mother fucker." I muttered as I fought to get my natural coils under control.

"Are you oh-"

A thunderous crack echoed through the trees as the bridge gave way and became lost to the rushing river, taking my car with it. Both Mr. Flynn and I sat there, mouths ajar and eyes wide as we watched my rust bucket bob away with the shattered remains of the rickety bridge. I didn't even notice my arms were extended as if I could somehow reach for the damn thing and pull it back onto land. Mr. Flynn's eyes shifted over to me before he spoke the first profane word I heard him say since we started working for him,

"Oh, shit." Finally snapping back into reality, I exclaimed,

"Dude! My fucking car! That was my fucking car! God-fucking damn it... Bitch on tits! You kiddin' me, right now?! Did you see...how... I ...Ohmygod!" I buried my hands in my face and screamed into my palms. In the midst of my tantrum, I could hear the suppressed laughter on his voice as he said,

"I'm sorry about your car. I'll drive you back to my place."

After my fit I could only slump back into the plush seat of his custom interior. A fifty-yard stare in my eyes. Mr. Flynn spoke a few times. Something about turning the seat heater to warm me up and more apologies for my lost at sea rust bucket. Then something about he's happy I'm safe, how I'm lucky and this could've turned deadly. But I couldn't hear him over my racing thoughts on how this cartoonish mishap would fuck me royally financially.

"You're shivering." Was the first thing I heard clearly as he handed me the jacket off his back. Not even noticing I was visibly trembling I turned down his offer polite like.

"No thank you. I'm sure you're not warm yourself. Besides, I should've thought quick and grabbed my jacket before my car went for a fucking cruise!"

What I said must've threw him off guard as the look on his face appeared amused and surprised. Then another look I couldn't quite place, perhaps endearment? Though I doubted that. I'm not endearing. But I must be in some strange way, otherwise he wouldn't be wearing that dumb beautiful smile and said,

"You're adorable." His tongue licked at his bottom lip and I began to curse my sexual orientation. "Please, I insist."

"No keep it. I'm fine." I lied.

"It is non-negotiable." A stern tone replaced his previous gentle approach. That all too familiar throbbing sensation pulsed between my legs from this small display of dominance. Why am I like this? I am the daughter of a Marine damn it!

"Fine." I cleared my throat. "If it makes you feel better."

Mr. Flynn stopped the car to help drape his leather jacket on my shoulders. The fur lining already warm from his body heat and a whiff of his cologne caressed me. A strange mix of cinnamon and honey like scents. Both sensations somehow eased my anxiety. So much so I didn't notice me curling into a ball to bury myself under the garment. I caught myself and sat up right with quick snappy like motions. Fiddling with my dirty hard-working hands I mumbled,

"I uh, will pay for the dry cleaning."

"I think I can afford my own dry cleaning." He smirked. "Besides, there's no need." We fell silent for a few moments before he asked if I mind if he turned on the radio. With a nonchalant shrug I told him I didn't. To my shock the speakers blasted the heaviest metal track adorned with the most beautiful guitar riff I have ever heard. Mr. Flynn caught me bobbing my head to the beat and asked was I a fan of the genre. Of course, I said yes and began to list off bands I enjoy. He too gave me a list of bands he favored, many of them were bands I listened to religiously. With a halfhearted smile I said,

"Hmph, didn't expect you to be a metal head. That's cool, I respect it."

"I am more than just a pretty boy." He replied almost snidely. Again, that emptiness in his eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror. My heart somehow dropped to my ass and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I'm pretty sure I didn't call him that out loud. I thought. The luxurious cabin crept into view as we pulled up in his drive way and it hits me. My car along with my phone, and wallet is gone. The swell of the river won't go down any time soon. And even if it does recede that sorry excuse for a bridge is gone. It is a Friday evening in a country hick town so finding nearby assistance was unlikely until Monday. Fuck, I'm stuck here with this man for the whole fucking weekend. Stunned by this reality I could only stay quiet. I remained withdrawn until we enter his home again. Mr. Flynn gestures for me to have a seat. Not even a moment after taking said seat I blurted out,

"Is there any way back into town?"

"I'm afraid not." He said with a gentle shake of his head as he started a fire in the fireplace. "I purposely bought this property because of the isolation. That bridge? Was the only way off this property. And the only way in." He said this with an amused smile he failed to hide. Alarm bells went off and I felt the skull splitting pain of a stress induced headache. My fingers massaged my temples as I tried to think.

"Okay okay... Do you own a boat?" The idea didn't sound nearly as idiotic in my head as it did vocalized. Mr. Flynn leaned his back against the stoned wall by the fire place. His shirt clinging to him from getting caught in the down pour trying to save my simple ass. I could see how his button-down shirt clutched his waist and broadened chest, showcasing his perfect V-shape. His shaggy hair messy and damp. With casual almost lazy like body language, he scratched at his scruff and flashed an impish grin.

"No, I do not have a boat." I persisted and asked if any escape route was possible. All of my suggestions were shot down. "At best I can let you stay here until Monday morning. That way I can make a few calls to get you home safely." There's that smirk again.

"I don't feel right doing that." I started to get up. More than prepared to camp outside. Wouldn't be the first time I unwillingly slept outside.