I Don't Like Liars

"Bullshit." He'd flirted back. And he was still here. And he didn't really show any signs of leaving. "You love me. Now you know why Kelly never used to introduce her boyfriends to me."

He rolled his eyes. "I know her pretty well. She's as bad as you are."

"Almost as bad," I corrected, and when he didn't deny it, I struck again. "Now you know why I was happy she wasn't coming. I'm at my best without her as a wingman."

"A wingman!" He got back to his feet, dusting off his jeans, then looked down at me. "You need a wingman when you're on the lookout for a hookup, Tara. That's not me."

"No. But old habits die hard," I shrugged, "and as you can tell, I enjoy a little bit of banter." I nodded, satisfied, when he sat back down. "So do you. I think you like it more than Kelly does."

"What can I say?" He crossed his legs again, but this time he gave his package a subtle yank with his left hand. It was nothing that couldn't have been innocent, a simple adjustment after standing up, but I liked to think he was taming an erection in there. "I've always enjoyed witty conversations with attractive women. It's just that I'm out of practice lately."

"Nah," I scoffed, "you're doing fine." I hadn't missed it, of course, when he'd used the word attractive. And, just like that, my vagina woke back up. Such a treacherous little snatch I had! I pressed a little. "I wasn't sure I should have sent that picture. The tankini one."

"I liked that picture," he admitted readily, and my heart gave a little surge. Along with my pussy, again. "You've got a nice smile."

"Aww." I leaned in and smacked his upper arm. "'Out of practice,' my ass." I'd asked enough. I didn't need to push further. If he'd seen my smile in that pic by the Lake, he'd seen the rest as well. And he'd be thinking about it now, after we'd chatted about his penis. Such fun! I hesitated, then probed. "I used to be bad with sending pics to guys. I loved it. It's like a long-distance tease. Like foreplay, kind of."

He shrugged. "I can't say I've ever gotten all that many." He had some catching up to do on his coffee.

"No?" I smirked. "You're missing out. It's how I met my ex."

"Yeah," he sighed, "and that certainly seems to have ended up well."

I leaned in again for another arm-smack. "Not the point, asshole. The point is that it netted the man. The ending? Well, that was... a different story." I was in no mood to talk to him about my divorce. For this game, it was enough that he knew I was single.

He downed the last of his coffee, swirling it in his mouth before he smiled again. "Well. I should get going. I need to get outside into the winter air and warm up." I rolled my eyes, but he was looking at my body. "You going back to bed? You look like you are."

"Of course I am. I told you, that's the warmest place here. Come on in there with me if you don't believe me." I winked, but I wasn't serious. And he could tell, leaning up out of the couch so that he could get up. "Hold on. Let me pay you."

"Sure." I knew he was checking out my butt as I strode toward my purse and dug around for my wallet. "Don't forget the tip."

"Just the tip?" I laughed back, but I just pulled out a five and passed it over to him. "Keep the change, man."

"Aw gee. Thanks." He gave a vague smile. "I'll call before I come over. To move you."

"You better bring your wife next time. I need someone to lay around and gossip with while you do all the lifting." He joined in my laugh as I walked him to my door, then turned back.

"If that's the way this is going to go? I need a much bigger tip."

I grinned wide. "If Kel isn't lying? You already have a much bigger tip."

"You're terrible."

"You have no idea."

* * *

I called Kyle that night, hoping for a lay, but he was on his way to an event. "Holiday thing."

"Really?" I wondered. "People hire strippers for Christmas parties?"

"I guess so." His rather distant tone told me we were probably never going to meet again. So I gave myself up to my vibrator while he slapped his splendid cock across the faces of various women, no doubt while making jokes about egg nog, but it wasn't really him I was thinking about as I brought myself off in a blistering orgasm.

Nope. Without even realizing it, and certainly without seriously intending it, I was on my way toward pursuing a different man.

* * *

I spent a skittish Wednesday packing, sorting, and then dumping big trash bags full of shit into the dumpster behind the apartment. My landlady hadn't told me I could use it, but she could go fuck herself. The rumor was that she was replacing me with one of her cousins or something, so for a moment or two I figured maybe I should just leave all my unwanted crap right there in the apartment. But no.

I worked steadily and devoured a bowl of ramen around eight o'clock, only to see that a text had arrived from Kelly's Stud. I was smiling as I woke up my phone and took a peek, only to find a dry message confirming him, his wife, and his truck for Thursday morning at nine.

That'll mean I have to get out of bed, I thumbed back.

He took a moment before he wrote back. Presumably.

I thought about calling him. I was better vocally than over text, and I was wired. The previous night's vibrator session had done little to take the edge off; instead, as sometimes happened, it had made me even more restless. I'm bored.

The reply came right back. Hi, Bored. I'm Aaron.

Fuck off. I smiled though. The joke was shit, but I like a man who doesn't take himself seriously. You should come over and bring me another coffee.

I'm not your personal barista.

You should be, I tapped back. If I had servants, I'd treat them super well. Lots of perks and stuff.

He paused again. Such as?

I shook my head, tired of this, and slapped the phone button to dial him up. The tone burred a few times in my ear before an incoming text from him shitcanned my call. I frowned as I read his message. Can't. Kel is right here.

Aw. I grinned to myself. Worried I'll make you say something awkward?

He took his time composing a reply. So. Many. Worries.

My grin widened. Well, I typed back smugly, if you want to know how well I'd treat you as my personal barista, you'll have to call me. I get bored texting. And then, because I'm a woman of my word, I tossed the phone across the couch and ignored the warbled chimes announcing Aaron's next three incoming texts before, much to my exhilarated surprise, the phone rang.

He'd called me.

"Yes? Who's calling, please?"I trilled, stretching my legs along the cushions. I was in my bathrobe, a blanket spread over my legs.

"I decided to walk the dog," he said quietly. I could hear cars whirling past on the street beside him, then the soft rustle of his feet through last month's fallen leaves.

"No," I corrected at once, settling in, "you decided to call me. The dog is just your excuse." I loved that. "But don't worry. I'll let you have your delusion." I leaned way back, my damp hair spread over the arm of my couch. "I just got out of the shower a bit ago."

"Yeah?" More leaves underfoot, a muted crunch. "I shower in the mornings."

"Most people do. I'd rather stay in bed late. I enjoy luxuriating." I pulled up my blanket. The apartment looked like I'd already left, the walls bare and the lights mostly off. The landlady's rented furniture looked alien with all my stuff packed away. She'd already called to cancel the WiFi, so every time I tried to do anything more than make a phone call I kept getting error messages and shit. Which reminded me that I'd have to spend early January updating my address everywhere. Goddamn her! "I love the cocoon the sheets make around my body. Makes me feel safe. My husband was an early riser, and I seriously think that might have been one of the reasons we split."

"Yeah. It's important to be compatible," he said vaguely. He cleared his throat. "I figured it out."

"Figured what out?" I had no idea what he was spouting.

"Which groomsman hooked up with which bridesmaid."

"Oh ho!" I sat up, intrigued. I had no idea whether any of them had, but Aaron didn't know that. "Guess."

"Do I get a prize if I guess right? I want a prize," he laughed.

"Yeah? Do you?" I put on a mock-singsong voice. "You've captured the alluring Kelly Poftek. Surely, that's the greatest prize of all?"

His laugh continued. "Yeah. No. She's amazing. But I've already got her."

"So?" I was enjoying this again. "Name it, Aaron. You brought me coffee. I owe you."

"You paid me."

"Pretend I didn't. What do you want?" This was just a show, a performance. I knew exactly what he wanted, or at least what I wanted him to want. "If I'm going to offer you a prize, it'll have to be something really cool. But probably something you should keep quiet about."

"Probably." His agreement was low, easy. Fluid. Like we were co-conspirators. "Wouldn't want anybody getting the wrong idea."

"So," I went on smoothly, "if you guess right... let's see." The performance continued. "Like... how quiet do you feel like being about this, buddy?"

He considered. "I can keep a secret." I stirred. Perfect. That was the kind of word that sounded deliciously naughty.

"All right, then. I think I've got something in mind. What's your guess, Aaron?" That guess would be performance too, something completely meaningless from him. I'd already decided whatever pairing he came up with would be the right answer.

"Ashlee. And Graham." He said it in a rush, and quietly, making me wonder how far he was from his house. From Kelly.

"Yeah?" It was a safe guess. I didn't know his friend Graham, but I knew Ashlee very well. She'd have fucked anything capable of producing a hard-on. "Not Colonel Mustard? In the ballroom? With a candlestick?"

He chuckled. "I've seen Graham naked. They wouldn't have needed a candlestick."

"Oh?" My voice rose in delight. "Gee. I'm learning all sorts of stuff about the assembled penises of your wedding party. I guess you're all studs."

"Not all." He paused. "So. Was I right?"

"I think you know you're right, Aaron." I put a little extra ooze into my voice, letting it drip. "Good boy. Excellent work." I licked my lips, pondering. "When will you be home?"

"Why?"

"Because it'll take a few minutes to put your prize together, and you might not want to be home when I send it." I let him chew on that for a few seconds. "Just walk an extra block. Your dog won't mind. Bye, buddy." I hung up before he could reply, like I usually did, and then debated with myself. There was no real rush. I knew he'd keep walking until I sent him something, and I was pretty sure he was smart enough to realize it was going to be a photo. I could afford to take my time and make it good.

But I also knew I dearly wanted to show off. A lot. And I craved his approval. So I didn't want to wait. I went into my photos and whirled through the albums, figuring I'd send him an updated version of the tankini pic I'd already sent: there was an awful lot of risque shit on that phone, but I didn't want to go too crazy.

After all, I'm hardly some desperate bitch.

A few seconds' search brought me to the Lake, and the many pics of me doing various watery things. I studied the one I'd already sent, memorizing the pose, the facial expression, the wild scarlet mass of my hair. I could do that again for him, right here on my couch in my bathrobe, and it would be accurate down to my wet hair.

Although I'd need to change where my thigh was, I realized as I looked at the pic. Or I'd be flashing him a full-scale pussy shot. I frowned, considering, realizing how awkward I'd look if I had to pretzel myself into a shape that covered my slit, only to realize I could get the same effect by just popping into my bedroom and slipping on a pair of panties. That would do it, I decided: something nice, maybe red? Black? Or, hell, whatever I hadn't packed yet. Then the bathrobe, draped neatly over my chest. Then my smile, calm and serene, for Aaron's viewing pleasure.

That'd work.

I rummaged around in one of the cardboard boxes near the window, mindful that he wasn't going to be staying away from Kelly forever on a night as chilly as this. I needed to hurry, but the first pair of underwear I excavated were all wrong: a simple opaque thong, devastating from behind but nothing special in front. "Nope," I muttered to myself, digging further until I came up with one of the white lacy little confections I'd picked up at Secret Whispers in the run-up to Kel's bachelorette. "Oh, yes," I gloated, smiling at the thing. "You'll do nicely." Without caring about the clear nighttime window right beside me, I leapt to my feet and stepped into the wispy thing, snugging it up over my mound with a sense of self-confidence, for I knew I looked amazing in this thing. Crisp whirls of white lace crept up along finely netted fabric, covering only what absolutely needed to be covered and leaving all the rest wide open.

If nothing else, he'd know exactly what kind of grooming I did down there.

I arranged myself on the couch with my phone propped up on a moldy phonebook, its timer set. A few moments looking at the tankini shot, followed by a quick twitch of my bathrobe, and I was ready to go. The flash dazzled me, and I was still blinking away its afterimage as I swept up my phone and assembled a careful caption.

Compare it to the other one, Aaron. xoxoxo.

I sent it off without a second thought and then slumped back onto the cushions, my fingers tracing idly over where the lace stretched between my labia, humming "The Adults Are Talking" by the Strokes.

A minute passed in silence, my phone just sitting there. Then another minute. Then the thing chirped, my hand darting off my pussy and out to the phone to see what Kelly's husband had to say about his prize. I picked up and spoke brightly. "Yes? Who's this?"

He let the silence stretch a moment longer than necessary before his confident drawl floated into my ear. "See you tomorrow, Tara." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Bright and early."

* * *

I sat around the next morning, drinking coffee at the dining room table with Kelly while Aaron schlepped my shit up and down the stairs. "He's so useful!" she gushed at one point, as he went to gather a pile of boxes. She had insisted he'd do all the work, until the time came to move the couch.

"Mmhmm." I sipped loudly. "Nice to have him around." I felt bad that he was doing so much work, but the grim reality was that I had very little stuff. It all came to about twenty bags and boxes, and I'd already moved about half. Most of the rest would be stuffed into Kel's car, leaving most of Aaron's truck for my couch and my TV. I was leaving a computer desk, but everything else had come with the apartment. I made sure he could hear me for the next part. "Too bad you won't let me give him a reward or something."

"Yeah. I know how you 'reward' people." She glared at me a little narrowly, clearly suspicious of me, but then again she'd treated me that way since junior high. "Especially men."

I rolled my eyes. "Hey! Aaron!" I called out. "Wanna fuck me?"

"No." He glanced up from the pile of shit in the corner, his eyes giving away nothing.

"Kel thinks fucking guys is the only thing I can do with them," I sniffed. "Little does she know I'm talking about giving you the unopened bottle of Talisker in my liquor cabinet at the new place, as a present. But now she's telling me I can't give you anything at all."

"I like Talisker," he nodded.

"Then ask your little wifey-poo if you can have some. If she agrees, I'll give you whatever you want," I snickered.

"What's that? Rum?" She was busy on her phone already, leaving me and Aaron to trade eye-rolls.

"It's very good scotch," he sighed, "you uncultured barbarian."

"Goddamn philistine," I agreed.

"Fuck you both," Kelly replied sweetly, not even looking up. She frowned at her phone. "So I'm driving behind? In case the couch slides out?"

"The couch won't slide out," Aaron growled.

"But then he'll be leading." I nodded over at Aaron. "Should I ride along, to make sure he doesn't get lost? The one-way on Jefferson Way can be a pain in the ass."

"I know the streets in this town, dammit," he sighed, but we weren't really listening.

She scowled. "That might not be the worst idea in the world. Aaron? Want Tara to ride with you? Then I can bring her back here afterward." She scratched at her leg. "I have to stop and get gas, anyway." I exchanged a glance with Aaron. It was very typical of Kelly that she would appear for an occasion that needed her car, and leave it mostly empty.

"I couldn't possibly give two shits," Aaron announced, rising with an armful of boxes. "You two figure it out. I'll be back up, and then you better help me with the couch."

"Uh huh." Kelly was in expensive jeans and a very tasteful blouse under a cardigan. She looked like work was the last thing on her mind. "Whatever." I just sat back, hiding a smile. I hadn't really expected her to object to me riding along with Aaron, but these kinds of things were always easier to deal with when she could tell herself she was the one who'd come up with it.

"Thanks again for the coffee." I wondered whether she could detect the sarcasm, which I'd wasted no effort to hide. I was sure Kelly would contribute not a single thing more to today's adventure than the undersweetened cup of Peppermint Spice Latte she'd brought me. And even that, I figured, had probably been Aaron's money. "And the help moving. Hopefully this'll be the last time."

"Yep." She didn't sound convinced. "You stop using your friends' pickup trucks to move around age thirty, so you've only got a couple years left before you need to start calling movers. The new apartment? Good spot?"

"It's fine." I glanced around at my empty little piece of home. "But this was a good spot, too, until my landlady started bitching out. You never know, Kel."

"You never do," she agreed. She looked like she was going to say something more, but then we heard Aaron's feet on the way back up and it was showtime for us to maneuver the goddamn couch down the goddamn stairs. And I agreed with Kelly: hopefully, this would be the last time. I was sick of moving.

Sighing, I clumped across to the far end of the couch. Aaron would take the downstairs side, me the upstairs. And Kelly would probably just text people.

* * *

I twisted around in the passenger seat of Aaron's truck, peering out the rear window. "You're sure it's not going to go flying out?"

He didn't conceal his irritation at such a dumb question. "I tied it down. And it weighs a couple hundred pounds. That couch is staying in my bed."

I glanced over at him, my body still all twisted. "I could make a pun out of that, but I won't." I nodded back, past the couch. "I doubt Kelly back there would like the pun."

"Kelly's back there," he nodded, "not here. Make your pun." He kept glancing across at me, which wasn't a huge shock. I was in grey tights, my legs all splayed across the seats. Why wouldn't he look? "I'm a big boy. I can take it."

"Oh ho!" I grinned over at him and slowly resettled myself in the seat. The truck was a mess, but I didn't care that my feet were crunching through candy wrappers on his floor. "That's another pun, cued up."

"Tell me them both. I can use a laugh after moving your shit down those stairs." Wending the truck through the clogged December streets was painful, so I indulged him.

"Okay." I turned again, restless, my face all smouldery. "Just that you're pretty good when it comes to tying things down in your bed."

"Nice one." He smiled tightly. "And true."