Taking His Virgin(5)

By: Lila Younger

I open up my garage as I wait to hear what he has to say. I live in a large, Mediterranean style house that could comfortably house at least ten people. Currently there’s one. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, but my hours would make it impossible for me to take care of one properly. That wouldn’t be fair to the animal. Maybe one day though. I grew up with a dog. If I ever found a woman to settle down with... I steer my thoughts quickly away from that train of thought.

“Look. We could use your help. It’s the B and B.”


Selkirk House is a rundown old B and B that Bill and Sandra bought a year ago when they got lucky on a scratch ticket. Ava was old enough that she didn’t need her mom at home anymore, according to Sandra, and she’s always wanted to run a hotel. I cautioned Bill against it at the time. A hotel business is tough to run profitably even for someone who’s been in the industry. It would be immeasurably more difficult for someone like Sandra, who’s never done it in her life. Not to mention the cost of repairs. Bill thanked me for the advice and bought the place anyways.

“Why don’t you get the ‘I told you so’ done with before we go on,” Bill says.

“Sounds like you already know it,” I say.

I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder before getting out of the car and closing the garage. The air conditioning blasts me as I go through the garage door. It’s going to be a hell of a summer and I’m not looking forward to it.

“Then I’ll get to the point. We need your help. Badly. The B and B isn’t doing terribly, but we just heard that they’ve approved a new beach resort about an hour down the 101. It’s going to be fancy. We’re going to have to update and overhaul things if we’re to keep things afloat. I’d feel more comfortable if you were here to oversee things. Make sure it’s going well. I can’t even begin to figure out how I’m going to do a top to bottom renovation. You know that working with my hands isn’t my strong point. And while you’re here, if you’ve got any ideas on how we can raise our bookings-”

“I know nothing about hotels,” I say as I gather up the mail on the front mat. Junk. Junk. Junk. Is there ever anything else?

“No, but you worked in one during college. And you know about growing a business. And that’s what we need to do. We’ve gotten comfortable, but changes are coming. I’m hoping with your expertise we’ll be able to weather those changes.”

I frown as I consider my options. I really shouldn’t go back. Staying under the same roof as Ava is dangerous. My head knows that, even if my dick is urging me to accept. My hand clenches into a fist, imagining what it’d be like to run over Ava’s porcelain skin. Thank God that Bill can’t see what’s in my mind.

“Let me make some calls,” I say. “I know a guy who can-”

“No,” Bill cuts in. “I don’t trust anyone else to pull off a renovation this huge except for you. We put everything into the B and B. We can’t afford for some contractor to take the money and run, or do a sloppy job that’ll cost us triple down the road.”

I drop my head. I should refuse. But I owe Bill a debt. I left home when I was sixteen. For two years, Bill and his family let me stay in their basement so I could graduate school. He’s been my best friend since we met in kindergarten. If he needed me to help him now, I’m going to help. At least, I hope that’s why I’m agreeing.

“I’ll pack my bags,” I say at last.


It’s past eleven o’clock at night by the time I pull into the little town of Montrose. Everything looks... unchanged. Not surprising really. Aside from tourism, there really isn’t much to be said about the place. Sandra grew up here though, which accounts for why they decided to move back. It’s not a terrible place by any means, it’s just so different from Boston where I grew up. I can’t even imagine what they do here on the weekends. Maybe that’s why they bought the B and B in the first place. The freeway exit is crowded with the usual: gas stations, fast food restaurants, everything you need to refuel and hit the road again. I stopped for a bite in Boston, at an old burger joint that Bill and I would frequent, so I’m not that hungry.

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