“Hot Gina’s in town?” Al asks. There’s a hint of jealousy in his voice.

I wipe the grease off my hands with a cloth and nod, a huge smile spreads across my lips. “She sure is.”

“You let me know if she—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He wants to hook up with her friend, any friend of hers, Al says, but he’s joking. He’s been with Sammy for years and has eyes for no one but her. Sometimes, like on a Hot Gina weekend, a sliver of excitement passes over his expression, but I know it’s only fleeting. He would never risk losing what he has with Sammy to have what I have.

Besides, I don’t know about Gina’s friends. We don’t waste time talking about insignificant stuff. Come to think of it, we don’t talk much at all, not immediately when we see one another. Gina is unique. She has the sexual appetite of a man. She’s a bona fide nymphomaniac, and I’ve known a fair share of them to be able to confirm this. She’s coming home for the weekend, on leave from the military, and that means forty-eight hours of sex.

She calls, and I answer on the first ring.

“Haven’t you left yet?” she cries. I hear the anger in her voice, and it adds to my frustration. I’m already mad at Enzo because a customer walked in last minute and needed something to be looked at and Enzo told me to deal with it.

Forget about going home to freshen up. “I’m coming,” I tell her as I walk over to my locker.

“I should be coming,” she grumbles, clearly not amused.

“You will be, over and over again,” I promise her as I pull out a clean shirt. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, some people say, but I can tell you that absence makes the dick grow harder.

“How long are you going to be?” she asks. “I have pizza slices all over me.”

“All over you?”

“On me, like I’m a plate. I’m not wearing anything either.”

I hiss out a breath, and in the same instant my cock hardens.

“Gimme ten minutes,” I tell her as I unbutton my shirt and quickly take it off.

“Hurry up! I feel like an idiot lying here like this.”

I can see I’m going to have to make it up to her big time when I get there. I quickly whip out a clean T-shirt from my locker. “I’m going to have to take a shower at your place—”

“I have to wait for you to take a shower too?”

“No. no. Just lie back and spread your legs. I’ll take good care of you first, and that’s a promise.”

“That’s more like it.” I can imagine the huge grin on her face as she says this.

“Don’t move a muscle,” I order. “See you on Monday,” I say to Al.

“Come over to Waquito’s. Rumors are Cardoza’s going to be there.”

I scowl at him.

“The boxer. The heavyweight champion of the world. Chicago’s New Ho—”

I raise my arm in a dismissive gesture. Al is a huge fan of Elias Cardoza—the local underdog who surprised many by winning the belt. “Gonna be busy, dude. Probably not going to get out of bed.”

“Goddamn lucky son of a bitch,” he mutters good-naturedly and loud enough for me to hear.

I rush out the door and over to my bike.

Weekends like this are few and far between. With my regular friends-with-benefits setups—and I have one or two lucky women here in Chicago—it’s just an instant gratification before I return to my place after. Or she leaves to go to hers. We never spend the night together. It’s an unspoken rule.

With Gina it’s different, because she only gets leave once in a while and it’s usually only for the weekend. With her, we spend the whole weekend together.

We fuck like rabbits.

It’s beautiful.

Buy it now!