Tuesday, March 20, 2018

I Love Dialogue from Man Tails by Dellani

Jet Barber shares a house with his sister, Alma. One evening, when he comes home from work, she's busily preparing a very nice meal. Instead of two spots at the table, three are set. She tells Jet she's expecting her boyfriend, Spense. She wants Jet to vet him before she allows the relationship to go to the next level. Since Jet is almost six and a half feet tall of seriously jacked man, he has a talent for scaring off all but the most interested suitors.

Spense was six feet tall, broad shouldered, with close cropped dark blond hair. His blue eyes were penetrating and held a glint of humor in them. He smiled when Jet opened the door, shifting both packages to one side. He held out his hand, grinning.
"You must be Jet. Spenser Thomas."
Jet shook his hand, squeezing a little. Spense squeezed back. The smile didn't fade, but a wariness came into his eyes.
"Alma's in the kitchen."
Spense lifted his chin, eyeing the taller man carefully. "But you want to talk to me first."
They moved into the living room and sat down. Spenser set his packages on the coffee table.
"Let me be totally up front, Jet. I like your sister. She's smart, funny, dead sexy and cooks like a pro. Do I want in her pants?" He spread his hands. "I'm a red blooded, heterosexual man."
Jet smirked. "There's a yes."
"But I'm not pushing. If I just wanted in her bed, I'd be there already. You know the drill."
Jet did. He'd used his charms to get what he wanted more than once. He never forced a woman to have sex, but he made it clear what he wanted and got it more often than not.
"She wants us to meet and I'm sure that's because she's got some deep seated worry that she'll never in a million years tell me about. So, ask me anything. I'm an open book."
"Got a job?" Jet fired the first volley.
"Yes. I work for Thomas and Sons. I'm one of the sons. It's an investment firm."
"You're a broker?"
"No. I'm the janitor." He laughed, shaking his head. "My actual title is investment counselor. I tell people what's a good investment and what isn't. I make good money."
"Heavy drinker?"
"I have a couple beers a week, a Scotch once in awhile. I get flat assed drunk on my birthday—it's the only time."
"Disease free?"
"Are you?"
Jet smiled. "Yeah."
"Me too. I was tested less than six months ago. I play clean, but you know nothing's fool proof."
"History of violence against women? Jail time?"
"Adamant no and I spent the night in jail once when I was seventeen. Old man wanted to teach me a lesson."
"Been there."
"Planning on fucking my sister and dumping her?"
"Never in a million years. I like her too much."
Jet nodded, considering that answer. It sounded sincere, just as the rest had. His bullshit monitor wasn't going off. There wasn't even the hint of a ping.
"I really like your sister, Jet. I want to see if this can go somewhere. I'm sick of being alone." He cleared his throat somewhat self-consciously. "Anything else you want to ask me?"
Jet cleared his throat, too. This guy was on the level. "Yeah. You want a beer?"
"I brought wine to have with dinner."
"Let's get the cork screw."
Jet led Spense into the kitchen. Spense walked over to Alma and handed her the parcels. One was the bottle of wine, the other was a box of her favorite chocolates.
"I would have brought flowers, but I know they make you sneeze."
Alma put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Spense, wisely, kept it chaste in front of her brother. Jet did his best to be small and invisible, nearly impossible for a man his size. He put the white wine in the refrigerator before walking into the living room. He felt decidedly like a third wheel. That didn't bother him as much as the idea that Spense was probably going to get lucky tonight and he hadn't a snowball's chance of getting laid himself.
Alma giggled and Jet knew for a fact that she and Spense were going to get busy later. He hoped they would go to his place. Or maybe hell would freeze over or the Earth would blow up so he wouldn't have to hear it. He'd opt for a hurricane or even a squall.
"Dinner!" Alma called.
© 2018 Dellani Oakes



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