It's Release Day Eve! Instead of Santa coming and leaving presents under the Christmas tree, I'm going to give a sneak peek at Chapter 1 of Keepin' the Faith! Hope you all enjoy it! Pre-order now and it will be on your Kindle at midnight.
Chapter 1
Faith
“Tell
me again why we’re at a senior community?” my best friend Natalia scoffed.
That
was the same question I’d been asking myself ever since Clarice Waverly, the
eighty-nine-year-old woman whose house I cleaned on a weekly basis, asked me to
host a sex toy party.
Was
I proud of my moonlighting profession?
Sometimes.
Actually,
sometimes hosting one party for Frisky Business made me more money than a whole
week of cleaning houses. You’d be surprised by the things you’d do when you’re
a twenty-five-year-old single mom trying desperately to make a better life for
your child.
Was
I a bad person for ignoring the fact that Clarice was somewhat senile and
probably hadn’t a clue as to what she and her senior citizen friends were
getting into tonight?
Maybe.
But,
she was my seventh party of the month, which meant a two-hundred-fifty-dollar
bonus. That was two hundred fifty dollars I could stack away and eventually put
toward a better place to live for me and my five-year-old daughter, Joey.
“Because
that’s what Mrs. Waverly wanted, so what was I supposed to tell her? No?” I
replied, taking my boxes from the trunk.
“Faith,
you’re going to gives these old ladies a heart attack with this stuff, and I’m
going to be an accomplice!”
“Will
you just be quiet and give me a hand!” I snapped, heaving a box in her arms.
“Faith,
you’re preying on these old women the same way those home shopping channels
do,” Natalia continued with her lecture as we walked up the driveway.
“The
home shopping channels don’t sell vibrators.” I giggled just as we reached the
door.
“And
what exactly is an eighty-something-year-old woman going to do with a
vibrator?” she asked. My eyes widened at her, and she shook her head in
disbelief. “There is no way!”
“How
do you know? Are you eighty something years old? You don’t have
to stop having fun just because you reach a certain age, and if all else fails,
they could always use them as a neck massager.”
“Girl,
you are too much.” She shook her head as I rang the doorbell.
Of
course Natalia didn’t get my cutthroat sales tactics. She finished college and had
a secure, decent paying job. She didn’t get knocked up her sophomore year at a
frat party while having drunken sex. That would be me. I was the one who took a
detour from my graphic design studies to become a mother to a little munchkin
whom I loved more than anything in the world. Every time I looked at my
precocious little girl, I didn’t regret it one bit. Cole, her father, was what
I called a career student. He changed his major three times, prolonging his
education and delaying him from obtaining a job with any meaningful income that
would result in the amount of child support I should have been entitled to. Instead,
I would take a few dollars whenever he had extra money to spare. We were never
really in a relationship, so to speak. We got along great. He was hot. The sex
was hotter, and one night the condom broke. He tried to be the best dad he
could to Joey, but he was still so immature even at twenty-five years old. I
wasn’t too crazy about allowing her overnight stays at his bachelor pad he
shared with two other guys. So, when he did take her overnight, he always
respected my wishes and would spend the night with her at his parents’ house.
I,
on the other hand, was the one who was forced to grow up. I was hardheaded and
didn’t want to raise my daughter under my parents’ roof, allowing my
overbearing Italian mother to take over my role. Don’t get me wrong, I did love
my mom, but sometimes we just didn’t see eye to eye. I was the youngest of
three girls, and I often wondered if I was an “oops” baby as well, being that
there was a twelve-year difference between me and my middle sister and fourteen
years with my oldest one. By the time I came along my mother was just tired. She
had to be. After all, she was forty-two years old when she gave birth to me. I
had Joey at twenty years old and there were times I’d be counting the seconds
until bedtime because she ran me ragged.
When
I became pregnant out of wedlock it went against everything my devout Catholic
mother believed in. She tried her best to persuade me into marrying Cole just
because I was pregnant with his child. Since there was no way in hell that would ever happen, I decided
to take my chances of spending eternity there instead. Thirteen years of
Catholic education, attending mass every first Friday of the month, every holy
day of obligation and every Sunday, I should have known better. That was the
standard speech my mother would spew during her many lectures. In a way, I
blamed her strict Catholic upbringing for my wild ways in college. I was always
a good girl who followed all the rules in high school. My classmates would be drinking,
smoking weed, and having sex at parties on the weekends, then get down on their
knees at church and pray during the week like they were little angels. The
closest I ever came to being a rebel was when Layne Brenner kissed me in the
ninth grade and then tried going to second base right before I stopped him.
When I think back now, girls were doing a lot worse than letting a guy feel
their boobs in ninth grade. A few of them had actually gone all the way before
their fourteenth birthday.
Wonder
if any of those girls had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. I always heard my
mother’s voice in the back of my mind whenever I would even think about doing something rebellious,
but once I got to college her voice stopped talking and all those bad girl ways
I suppressed in high school came out in full force.
“Are
you sure we’re at the right house?” Natalia asked when I rang the bell once
again.
“Yes.
She might not have heard it the first time. She never wears her hearing aid.”
“Coming!”
Mrs. Waverly shouted from behind the door.
“It
takes her a while. She has a walker,” I said to Natalia.
“She
has a walker, and you’re worried about getting her off!” Natalia shook her head
at me.
“What
does one have to do with the other, Nat? It’s not like you have to be standing up
to use half of these toys.”
We
both let out a giggle just as the door flung open. Mrs. Waverly’s smile was a
mile wide with her platinum blond wig placed crookedly on her head. “Hello,
there, Faith. How are you, honey?”
“I’m
good. This is my assistant, Natalia.”
Nat’s
eyes burned into me, but I was trying to sound as professional as possible,
even though Mrs. Waverly probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation five
minutes from now.
“I
have some goodies out if you girls would like some. Some of the other ladies
will be bringing over more.” She pointed to the package of Chips Ahoy cookies
and the bowlful of tiny powdered jelly mints on her dining room table that were
so stereotypical of old people.
“So
where should we set up?” I asked.
“Oh,
right here, dear.” She led us over to an open space in the living room, and I
went right to work, wrestling with the old fold-up table that I carried in.
“Okay,
smarty-pants, how did you want to set up this sex show?” Natalia smirked as she
opened one of the boxes.
“My
great-niece just had a baby. I’m hoping you have a little toy I could get her
and put away until she’s old enough to play with it,” Mrs. Waverly said as she
stood and observed.
Natalia
choked on the sip of water she had just taken as she tried to stifle her
laughter.
I
playfully smacked her on the shoulder and turned my attention to Mrs. Waverly.
“Mrs. Waverly, remember I told you these aren’t toys for children? They’re
adult toys.”
She
stared at me questionably before giving a nod. “Oh, well, then maybe I could
pick up a nice jigsaw puzzle for me.” She scanned her living room and pointed
to the wall where one of a lilac field hung over her television. “See that one?
It took me three months to put that together. I like to have them framed after
I spend all that time on them.” The buzz of her doorbell broke her attention.
“Oh, here are the girls!” she shouted as she meandered off to let them in.
“Shut
up!” I said to Natalia, who was shaking her head and laughing.
“Seriously,
Faith? They think they’re going to be buying jigsaw puzzles!”
“I
explained the types of products I sell to Mrs. Waverly, and she was all for it.
It’s not my fault that she has a hard time remembering.” My stomach churned as
the women began to file in. Some of them were my housecleaning clients, and
others I had never seen before.
Cheap
hairspray and even cheaper perfume wafted through the air as a dozen or so old
ladies each tried to talk over the other. Their conversations consisted of
their latest ailments, problems they were having with their neighbors, and who
took their spot at bingo.
“Clarice,
did you invite Sylvia?” Mrs. Downs, another one of my housecleaning clients,
asked.
“I
did. She didn’t say if she was coming or not, though,” Mrs. Waverly replied.
“Let’s
hope not. I’m not in the mood for her loud mouth tonight,” Mrs. Downs sneered.
“Me
neither!” another woman shouted. “She thinks she knows everything!”
Now
that the time was here, my nerves were finally getting the best of me. How the
hell was I going to market this stuff to these women? I could possibly be
chased out of this senior community with pitchforks by the time the night was
over.
“Okay,
ladies, since it looks like we’re all here, let’s get started.” My stomach was
doing cartwheels as I stared out at a sea of bouffant hair.
“I’m
here!” a loud, boisterous voice shouted from the front door. The look of disdain
on some of the women’s faces was a good indication that voice belonged to the
infamous Sylvia. All eyes were on the hip looking redheaded woman who had just
entered the living room with a tray of food in one hand and a bottle of wine
and a cigarette in the other.
“Sylvia!
Put that out, for crying out loud!” one of the women grumbled at the sight of the
cigarette.
“All
right, all right! Keep your shirt on,” she replied as she placed the tray and
the wine on the dining room table and walked over to the kitchen sink to run
water over her cigarette. Something told me she wasn’t like the rest of the
women at this party. She may have been close in age to all of them, but she was
definitely more with the times. Her short, modern haircut and her stylish
choice of clothing, which included an adorable hot pink tank top and jeweled
flip-flops, were a far cry from the teased hair, polyester pants, and
orthopedic shoes that filled the rest of the living room.
“I
made some cookies and a chocolate babka.”
“Some
what, dear?” Mrs. Waverly asked.
“Some
desserts, Clarice,” Sylvia spoke a little louder so Mrs. Waverly could hear.
These women may not have been too fond of Sylvia, but they certainly didn’t
mind her baking, rushing over to the table in a mad stampede.
“Oy
vey! You might think they’ve never eaten before,” she whispered to Natalia and me.
She examined the items on the table as the other women hovered around the food
in the dining room. “Oh! Clarice didn’t say that it was this kind of party.” She grinned and picked up the box containing
the edible underwear. “If my Harry were still alive, I would definitely buy
these.” She moved closer to Natalia and me and spoke in a loud whisper, “That
man could do wonders with his tongue.”
I
bit my lip to halt my laughter while Natalia tried disguising hers with a
cough. “Well, that’s always a good thing, right?” I was doing my best to keep a
straight face.
“Oh,
honey, you betcha! You know, once they get to be a certain age, things don’t
work as well with them anymore. But as long as he has a good tongue, who needs
that shriveled up thing hanging between their legs? Do either of you girls have
boyfriends?”
“I
do,” Natalia replied.
“Does
he have a good tongue?”
Natalia’s
gaze fell to the floor. “I-I don’t know.”
“What
do you mean, you don’t know? Either he does or he doesn’t.” Words were failing
Natalia. “Oh, honey, don’t tell me he’s never gone down to funky town.”
I
couldn’t hold back my laughter any longer. For the first time ever, my best
friend was speechless.
“Dump
him!” Sylvia waved her hand in disgust. “Dump him now and find a man who’s willing
to take the plunge...literally.” She let out a loud laugh, followed by a deep
cough.
“Sylvia!
You must give me the recipe for this chocolate babka,” Mrs. Downs shouted.
Natalia
shook her head when Sylvia focused her attention on the women in the dining
room. “Am I in the twilight zone or something?” she asked.
“The
look on your face….” I tried to pull it together. “Well, does Darius?”
“Does
Darius what?” she asked.
“Have
a good tongue?” I cackled once again.
“Just
remember, paybacks are a bitch.” She pulled in her bottom lip, trying to remain
straight-faced, but it was only a matter of seconds before she was giggling
too.
Once
all the women were done gossiping and had their fair share of desserts, they
gathered in the living room, and I prepared for the next hour of hell. Sylvia
sat front and center with a glass of wine in her hand. I was secretly hoping
they’d all be as open-minded as her, but I knew that was a long shot.
“Okay….”
I waited for them to quiet down. “I have a personal question for all of you,
ladies. How many of you are sexually active or would like to be?”
Gasps,
shrieks, and a few oh my Gods
filled the room.
What
the hell was I thinking coming here? Was the two-hundred-fifty-dollar bonus
even worth the humiliation I was causing myself along with these women? Natalia
was right. If we got out of here tonight without calling 911 because someone
had a heart attack it would be a miracle.
“Oh
my God, will all of you prudes loosen up a little?” Sylvia shouted. “Joan,
don’t tell me that you and Richard aren’t still getting it on. I know he’s
still got a little spunk in that junk. I’ve seen the way he looks at the young
little waitress at the diner when we all go out for coffee.”
“Sylvia!”
the woman snapped.
“And,
Evelyn, you’re newly divorced. Maybe if you try out one of these vibrating
things here, you’ll be wondering why you even needed the asshole ex-husband around
in the first place.”
My God, I love this woman for coming
to my rescue!
“Now,
can we please let this nice girl talk and tell us a little bit about her things
that she has here tonight? I for one am very interested.”
I
cleared my throat and went on with my sales spiel, toning it down a lot from
the one I usually gave. Instead of swaying them to the kinky items like I
normally would at parties, I focused more on the body lotions and massage oils,
playing up on how well they moisturized
the skin. I wasn’t lying. They were great moisturizers, even if they
were meant to be applied in a sensual way by your significant other. Lord
knows, I used them enough times on myself as a body moisturizer to vouch for
that. In a way, I was a lot like these women. Okay, maybe I was about fifty
years younger, but some of them probably had a more active sex life than me. It
wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy sex or thought of it as something sacred like I
was led to believe my entire life. I just had more important things to tend to
than getting laid, and if the urge ever did come upon me, that was where my
booty call, Jeff, came into play. He was always ready, willing, and able to
help out a girl in need. Even though the last time I had put out an SOS for him
had been well over six months ago. Did I use any of the products I sold? I’d never
tell.
Slowly
and cautiously the women began to make their way up to the table to smell the
body lotions and oils. “Oh, smell this one, Joan,” one of the ladies said. My
plan was working. I was going to make some sales. It may have been all lotions
and oils, but they were sales nonetheless.
“What’s
this thing?” the woman wheeling around an oxygen tank asked as she picked up
what we in the business referred to as a cock ring.
Mrs.
Downs eyed up the package and adjusted her glasses. “It says it’s a double
penetrating and ball buzzer penis ring!” Her jaw dropped so low, I thought I’d
need a crane to lift it from the ground.
“A
what?” another woman shouted.
“It’s
a cock ring!” Sylvia bellowed even louder. “It goes around a man’s penis to
heighten orgasm.” She took it from the woman’s hand and looked it over. “They
don’t make them like they used to!” She laughed, leaving them all aghast.
My
throat tightened, and I peered over at Natalia, widening my eyes in hopes that
she could help me recover from this one.
“Ladies,
why don’t we decide on which scent of body moisturizer we like best?” Natalia
suggested, trying to reroute the guests to the calmer end of the table. It
worked like a charm as they all followed her lead, allowing me to remove some
of the really super X-rated items from view and back in the boxes.
“Ah!
What a bunch of squares!” Sylvia said, waving her hand in a dismissing manner.
“I
should have known that this was going to be a disaster. I mean, what would
these women need with any of these items?”
“Well,
I don’t know what they need, but I’m going to buy me this pretty little nighty.
I’m Sylvia, by the way.”
“I’m
Faith, and thank you so much for livening up this party tonight.”
“Don’t
mention it. Half of these gals here could use one of these.” She picked up a
vibrator and looked it over. “Even though they’ll never admit it.”
“I
think it’s really great that a woman your age is still so open-minded about
sex.”
“I
may be old, but I’m not dead! I’m sure the fact that I was a sex therapist for
forty years helps a lot too.”
My
eyes widened.
“Yeah,
honey. Nothing surprises me.”
“Umm,
Faith,” Natalia interrupted. “That little old lady over there wants to know if
these bracelets come in different
colors.”
A
startled breath escaped me at the sight of the anal beads in Natalia’s hand.
“Hey,
don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” Natalia scolded.
“Just
tell her no! And tell her that bracelet
isn’t for sale.”
“Where
did that nice-colored girl go with my bracelet?” the woman Natalia was helping
shouted.
“Did
she really just call me a colored
girl?” Natalia rolled her eyes.
“She’s
old, Natalia. She’s not up on the proper terminology.” I laughed. “Now, can you
please go back over there and do your best sweet-talking to convince her not to
buy this without telling her that
it’s meant to be shoved up one’s ass?”
“You’re
lucky I love you…just remember paybacks—”
“I
know. I know…I owe ya big time for this.”
“Do
you use any of these products with your man?” Sylvia asked.
“Oh…no.
I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Oh,
honey, why not? You’re young, pretty, and you have a cute figure.” She raised
an eyebrow at me. “Do you like women?”
“Oh
no. I’m straight. It’s just…I really don’t have much time for a man in my life.
I have a five-year-old daughter.”
“And?”
“She’s
my first priority, and I don’t have much time for sex.”
“Honey,
you make time for sex. You know, in all of my years of listening to patients,
that was always the biggest problem with the women.”
“What’s
that?” I asked.
“Women
automatically assume that just because they become a mother they have to give
up sex. Why’s it so hard to balance both? I had a son, and my husband and I
still managed to have sex at least three times a week.”
My
eyes widened. I was tired just thinking about it. “Wow…that’s great.”
“My
point is, you can still be a mom and a woman.
Sex is a good thing.”
“I-I
know that.” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with her. “But
I’m just not going to have sex with anyone.”
Even though Jeff was just a booty call, I still knew a little about him, like
he wasn’t a homicidal maniac.
“Maybe
you should make some time to find someone.”
I
shrugged my shoulders. I knew she was right. I needed to get laid, but I didn’t
think it showed on my face. Clearly, it must have if a total stranger was
suggesting it. But she was a professional after all, so maybe she just had a
sixth sense to these things.
“Oh,
Faith, honey, can you come on Wednesday instead of Friday to clean? I’m
switching our card game with my neighbor and it’s going to be at my house this
week, so I want to make sure it’s all clean,” Mrs. Downs asked, breaking up my
awkward conversation with Sylvia.
“Yeah,
sure.”
“Did
I just hear her right? Do you clean houses?”
I
nodded.
“Good.
My cleaning lady just went back to Poland to take care of her sick mother. When
can you come do my place?”
“Well,
umm…I’d like to take a look at the size of the house and get an idea of what
you need before I give a price.”
“Sweetheart,
price doesn’t matter, and my house is the same model as Delia’s…just decorated
a hell of a lot nicer.”
“Okay,
is Friday good for you?”
She
gave me a wink. “Friday would be great.”
Maybe
this wasn’t such an epic fail after all. With any luck, I had just gained a new
housecleaning client, but something told me that in addition to doing her
cleaning, I would be continuing my sex therapy session as well.
© Copyright - Beth Rinyu 2016
❤️
