I Can't Even Read online

  I CAN’T EVEN

  By

  Laran Mithras

  Model Photos by ShutterStock.com and DepositPhotos.com

  I Can’t Even is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 - All Rights Reserved

  Sometimes, it is the way a pretty woman checks out my husband - and then looks at me - that does it for me…

  A millennial slang dictionary can be found at the back of the book. Slang used within is rendered in italics where not part of thoughts.

  CHAPTER 1

  I hated my uncle.

  Sort of.

  I held the phone away from my ear as he almost shouted at me, “Don’t screw this up! Are you listening to me, Bree?”

  “Yes, Unc—”

  “We stuck our neck out for you on this one. You owe us…”

  I knew what he meant. I had caught him masturbating over my picture last Christmas and he had treated me like shit ever since. This was his way of earning my silence: buying me off with a gift job through a friend of the family.

  “Just don’t screw this up!”

  “I won’t. And thank you—”

  The connection went dead.

  Uncle Tommy owed my parents money. A lot of money. He was paying some of it back with favors.

  Like this one.

  Three years out of high school and married to geeky Shawn Robbins from the yearbook staff at our school, I was trudging through low-paying jobs.

  McDonalds? Taught me scheduling and responsibility. Pizza Palace? Taught me social skills. Coffee kiosk? Taught me how to hold going pee. None of them gave me the pay I needed.

  College was simply out of the question. My parents couldn’t afford sending me off and I wasn’t going to take student loans and bury myself in decades of debt.

  Decades of debt. No way.

  Shawn touched my shoulder. “Hey, you look lost. It sounds like you got the job?”

  I nodded. My geeky husband had lost his acne and looked much nicer now. I was happy to have him. And of course, the sex was very nice.

  “So you’re going into modeling, huh? Be in Victoria’s Secret?”

  “No, not like that. I’m helping an agent, not actually modeling. It will all be office work.” I dropped the phone on the couch and turned to him, excited. “But the pay is awesome. I start at fifteen an hour!”

  His smile was supreme. “Yaas!”

  “Maybe we can afford a big screen now.”

  Shawn’s expression moderated. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still getting established…”

  And there he was: ever practical. His career in photography was slowly building but he still pulled in more than I did working almost full time between two jobs. My new pay would be almost double. I felt giddy with excitement, but Shawn was my tether to reality. “We should celebrate, at least.”

  His previous smile morphed into something wicked. “Let’s try out those ribbed condoms.”

  I had other things on my mind – material things – but his nasty suggestion made me insta-wet. “All right…”

  The bed was behind the couch in our studio apartment. Despite being small, it was still home and the transition from the couch a few feet to the bed felt like a shift in mood and attitude.

  This was where I became an adult. Not that it had all happened here; Shawn had first taken my virginity in our freshman year. That our relationship had lasted so long had shocked everyone. No one shipped more than a couple weeks in high school until their senior year. And then only maybe for a few months at a time at most. Shawn and I had essentially been in and out of our relationship over the entire four years, getting together, breaking up, and getting back together again.

  It was fated.

  Of course, he looked a lot better now – no longer nastafied. No longer a social embarrassment to be around.

  He was my life now. My new future. He was far more a man than my father had been. Dad had left mom and me for his secretary. They had kids now and dad ignored me.

  I watched my husband unroll the condom down his thick dick. I had ever despaired of fitting it inside me and the very first time we had tried when we were fourteen was painful and awkward. It wasn’t until the third time that I had managed to take the head inside. I thought I was going to rip apart.

  My friends had shown me plenty of dick pics throughout high school and I was certain Shawn’s beat them all. Some of the pics my friends showed me were pathetically small in retrospect and sometimes I felt sorry for them and then sometimes wished I had a boyfriend with something a little more comfortable.

  Shawn had a weapon of mass destruction, as he called it. But otherwise, he didn’t brag or show it off. He sent out no dick pics to chicks that I knew of. We were tight.

  I stripped naked and settled back on my elbows for him. I spread my feet out.

  He was always thirsty for me, despite my less than glamorous looks. I did not have killer breasts. At my age, I despaired of ever getting any further growth there. Fortunately, he was all eyes on my pussy.

  He leaned over me and guided the thick head to my opening. As usual, I tensed up. Entry was always difficult. Even if it didn’t hurt, the stretching always promised to be a potentially painful event.

  Fortunately, these condoms were not only ribbed, but lubed.

  My opening stretched wide around his pushing pole and allowed him in. The sliding of the lubed latex into my pussy was relieving and sexually luxurious. He packed my pussy with inch after inch of stiffness that swiped away all other thoughts and concerns. I closed my eyes, relishing the feelings as he began thrusting back and forth.

  I collapsed off my elbows onto my back and wriggled my hips as much as I could to get more comfortable. Trying to move with that long thick thing in me was difficult. Only when he was pulling out was it easy. Sometimes I moved too much and he popped out, but not all too often, and re-entry was smooth. He never seemed to care if he slipped out.

  Shawn was gentle with me, as he always was. His length could bruise me up inside if he really got going and it had taken several fucks in my freshman year of high school before I grew fearful enough of the bruising to tell him to go easier.

  But it was all good now.

  I slid my hands all over his arms and back and butt as he pumped me. Despite how good he looked now, I always had flashes of that first time. Seeing acne face over me was not the most appealing thing I wanted to recall during these times, but I couldn’t help it. I was quietly thankful every time we had sex that he looked so much cleaner.

  He was almost… beautiful now and sometimes I saw other chicks checking him out.

  I would probably have to diddle myself later if I wanted to finish. I only came if he got rougher and really gave my clit a good pounding. Unfortunately, that also meant getting bruised in my gut and I didn’t like that. I was perfectly fine with fingering myself and finishing if I wanted to.

  He knew and was considerate.

  He would pump until he panted and tightened up all over, then I would feel the thickness pulsing inside me and the sudden hotness through the latex of the condom. He would pull out and strip off the condom and dispose of it.

  We were comfortable, in love, and tight. He was my bae.

  But I remembered his early ugliness.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Hi, you must be Bree Robbins?”

  I shook her extended hand in quiet awe.

  Standing in front of me was a woman who served looks. Everything about her was perfect, on point. She made me cringe at how unworthy I looked as an adult woman. From her understated makeup to her perfect hair and poise, I felt like I was once again an ignorant newb freshman in high school.
br />   I stammered, “Y-yes… Hi…”

  Her smile spread into a pleasant, perfect grin. “No need to be uncomfortable. I’m Lexi Taylor and this is my agency.” She cocked her hips and held up a hand, looking to the side as if to indicate her surroundings. It was a model pose that erupted so flawlessly from the woman that my knees buckled.

  How do I get that kind of grace and poise? I asked myself.

  She gripped my hand gently and squeezed. “Come, let’s get you settled in.” She turned to some young guy standing behind her. “Make sure we’re not disturbed? Give us at least ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes to learn my job? I gulped. I felt so out of my league that it hurt. I wanted to run and cry.

  But Uncle Tommy had stuck his neck out for me – even if it was to buy my continued silence over our secret. I can’t screw up this job; my entire family is depending on it. Mom, Uncle Tommy and Aunt Sue, Shawn… I berated myself silently and followed her sleek form into a small office.

  There were only a few rooms to the whole office suite and the one she led me into from the reception area was filled with filing cabinets and a computer.

  She twisted around in a smooth pivot that looked as natural as a ballerina dance. “This is where we keep the hard files of our models and where we enter them into our portfolios for clients.” She indicated the computer. “How well do you know computers?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “I do a lot on there… you know, Facebook and Twitter…”

  Her lips moved in the suppression of a smile. She sat daintily in the swivel chair and said, “Let me show you; it’s not difficult at all.”

  I was instantly swayed by a wave of relief. As long as I was shown something, I usually picked it right up.

  Lexi mumbled softly as she showed me the program. “I’ve been using a temp agency for this position – as a favor to a friend who runs it – but the people she sends me don’t seem to care about work. They have their heads over their phones half the time.” She paused what she was doing and looked up at me. “You don’t have a problem working, do you? You can turn off your phone and not go into withdrawals? Or is this too much to ask?”

  Don’t screw this up! I pulled out my phone and turned it off. I assured her, “No problem at all.”

  My new boss heaved a silent, slow sigh. “Then we’re off to a good start.”

  After she showed me the computer program, she indicated the cabinets. “I’m going to leave you in here for a while. I want you to get acquainted with our models,” she pointed to one wall of cabinets, “and our portfolios.” She indicated the other wall. “Most of our work is handled online, but there are plenty of times we still print up portfolios for certain clients. Check out what we do and how we do it. Take notice of the format and arrangement. Eventually, you’ll be doing most of the prep for them.”

  I nodded, looking over the dozen filing cabinets.

  “Good. I’ll check back on you in a while. There’s a restroom out the side door we share with another suite and a coffee machine in the conference room next to this one. Any questions?”

  I remembered something my mother had tried to teach me and I used it here. “No ma’am.”

  If Lexi’s instant smile was any indication, I had given her more than she expected for an answer. She touched my shoulder with a pleased expression and left the room.

  An hour and a half later, I walked out to go find the bathroom…

  And instead found myself in the beginnings of an ordeal that would test the limits of my endurance and sanity.

  CHAPTER 3

  Wait, what is going on? I stood there, open-mouthed.

  Certain things were obvious: Shawn had come to visit me on my first day; he carried a small bouquet of flowers in a vase; his camera bag was slung over one shoulder; and my new boss was touching him.

  I got all that. Simple.

  But why?

  I blinked.

  Lexi was squeezing his shoulders and smoothing his shirt. “My, absolutely wonderful. You came to apply? I hope you have some composites in your bag there – and flowers weren’t necessary.”

  “Apply?” My husband sounded perplexed.

  “Of course, silly. Everyone applies. You don’t just walk into a modeling job—”

  “I came to see—”

  Lexi peered at him from head to toe. “Have you modeled before? Are you with another agency? Please tell me you aren’t.”

  He shook his head in confusion and saw me. He looked lost. “I’m not with any agency.”

  Lexi clapped her hands together. “Perfect!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her. “We’ll get you set right up. Did you say you have composites?” She saw the direction of his gaze and noticed me.

  He said, “No, I don’t have any composites. I have a portfolio—”

  “Same thing!” But her voice held a little uncertainty now as she flicked her gaze back and forth between us.

  He finally said, “I came to see Bree.”

  Lexi, still hugging his arm close to her, pulled her head back in confusion. She looked up at him with eagle-eyed scrutiny. “You’re here for her? Not to apply for modeling work?”

  “No, I’m a photographer—”

  I stammered, “He’s m-my husband.”

  She blinked at me once. Her eyes snapped down to my left hand and her lips formed the word, “husband?”

  I tried to curl my fingers up to hide that I didn’t have a ring: we were too poor to afford them.

  Shawn said, “I came to give her some flowers for her desk… or wherever she works…”

  Lexi started to laugh and let go of his arm. She took one step away and leaned back from him, regarding him with curiosity. “How sweet. I thought…” Her hand came up again in that flawless pose that told us everything she was thinking. Once again, she took his arm and hugged it to her, but she spoke to me. “Please tell me you’d let him model.”

  “Model?”

  Her eyes widened as if surprised I couldn’t see it. “He’s perfect! Young, gauntly slender, but baby-faced. Oh my god, the clients will love him.”

  Shawn smiled, delighted.

  Are you serious? My geeky husband? I regarded them both in confusion.

  She said to him, “No pressure, but I would love to represent you. Our agency is on call with several very big clients and the pay is… substantial.”

  My husband said, “I’ve never modeled before; I’ve only worked behind the camera.”

  “Then you have a leg up on your competition. You’d be a dream model. I could get you work to keep you busy for most of the year. We’re talking a couple thousand a week, at least.”

  He looked very surprised.

  She added, “Not right away, of course, but once we’ve broken you in on a few shoots and the clients see you out there… Definitely.” She looked at me. “What do you say? Or am I stepping on toes here?”

  I shook my head, afraid to reject anything Lexi might suggest. Don’t screw this up! I ended up shrugging. “If… he wants…”

  Lexi’s eyes half bugged out at Shawn. Her voice was silky. “Please tell us you’d love to make thousands…”

  I asked, “Models really make that much?” She hadn’t cooed over me and I felt lonely.

  Lexi straightened and released my husband’s arm. Her manner turned abrupt. “No. Most don’t. Most struggle to make any of their ends meet. They are good, but don’t have the perfect look. Or they aren’t naturally flexible in front of a camera. They’re too stiff. Clients don’t like stiff. Most scratch and claw just to pay the rent. I’ve seen it all.” She came over to me and grabbed my arm as she had his. She turned her head to my ear. “But your husband just explodes with potential. He moves right, slouches right, pouts right. Everything about him screams modeling success. I’ve seen thousands of models come through these doors and looked over many more thousands of composites. Your husband could be in the top cream of those who make a career of this.”

  I felt excitement rising in me
at her certainty. “Really?”

  She released me and lowered her chin. Her words were as certain as my shock. “I have better things to do than waste my time.”

  Shawn was laughing silently, but I saw the same shock registered on his face that I felt inside.

  Modeling? Shawn? I almost laughed at the silliness of the idea. But Lexi was studying both of us with serious eyes.

  No, this was not the time to laugh and mock.

  Apparently satisfied with our silence, she struck a more business-like pose with lightly clasped hands and a straight spine. “I can tell already, Bree, that hiring you was the right move. Let’s talk about getting a composite done up for him, and… let’s talk about getting to know each other better.”

  The last was delivered while she looked up and down over my husband’s figure.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I can’t believe she wants you to be a model.” I was still stunned.

  Shawn grinned like a happy man on his side of the couch. He held the PS4 controller and worked the buttons. “What can I say? I gots the looks.”

  I ignored his racist mimicry. “You really want to model?”

  His eyes never left the game and I didn’t expect them to. He said, “Sure, why not? Stand around, pout, and let people take pictures of me in different clothes? Perfect.” He made duck-lips for me.

  I had a flash of his acne-riddled past and shook my head.

  He caught it, looking over for the briefest of seconds. “What? You don’t think I can be a model? You heard your boss.”

  “You’re just lit up that she was touching you.”

  He laughed, embarrassed. “She was? I didn’t notice.” He pretended to be really involved in his Dark Souls game.

  “Oh come on, her hands were all over your chest.”

  “Were they?” He pressed buttons with more ferocity.

  I knew he was trying to dismiss it. I asked suddenly, “Did you like her touching you like that?”