The Girls are super excited to share this exclusive first chapter of our new favourite book Wet by Rut Clampett. This was a 5 star read for us and we hope you enjoy this look at the fun.
THE FACE OFF
I love the earthy smell when the afternoon sun hits the grass still damp from an earlier rain. I want to toss my tools aside, take off my shoes and let my feet sink into the ground, leaving my footprints in the grass.
I remember when I was a young boy, eager to help my dad with his work, he would give me a shovel and teach me how to dig, turning the soil so we could discover what was wrong down below. Now years later, even though I’m a landscape architect and work at a drafting table instead of a field, I feel like I haven’t stopped digging.
Part of me misses this kind of labor. I’m never more at peace than when I’m outside working with the sun on my back. I take a deep breath with my face tilted to the sky, and then kneel down to finish my task.
I’ve just started screwing the sprinkler head into the new connection when the bush next to me starts ringing. What the hell? I lean in closer to the shrub to make sure I’m not imagining something. Sure enough, the damn thing rings again. I lift myself off my knees, and stand with my hands on my hips, peering down into the clusters of leaves.
“Did you hear ringing?” a voice calls out behind me. I turn to see who I assume to be Mrs. Jacoby walking barefoot across her lawn. I blink rapidly and tighten my jaw to keep my mouth from falling open. My teenage memory of meeting her doesn’t do justice to the woman before me.
I can’t remember when I’ve had such a visceral reaction to a woman. My blood heats up the longer I gaze at her.
She’s a knock-out—wavy, auburn hair, skin the color of cream with a shot of coffee, and electric blue eyes. Throw in lush lips that look made for kissing, a perfectly curvy figure, and she’s skating on the edge of being too good to be true.
I silently nod and point to the bush just as it rings again. By the time she’s up next to me, I can’t decide if I should look away or just continue to enjoy the view.
She’s in those tight, stretchy pants and a tank top, and with the way her breasts dance as she approaches, I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing a bra.
I take note of her fiery expression.
The ring comes again and I glance over at the landline receiver in her hand with an arched brow. “Did you dial this bush? ’Cause it doesn’t look like it’s going to take your call.”
She chews on her bottom lip and narrows her eyes at me. “Who are you?”
“Paul, from Sprinkler Brothers. You may not remember, but we met way back when I was helping my dad during summer breaks.”
Her eyes grow wide and she can’t hide her surprise. “You’re Paul Junior?”
“The one and only.”
“How old are you now?”
“Almost thirty. Like I said, it’s been a while since we met—I was eighteen that summer.” I lean back, stretching to my full height and slip my hand in my back pocket.
She studies me as if she’s seeing me in a new light. I know from my parents talking about clients that we’re not that different in age.
“Wow, you look so different. You’re all grown up.”
My eyes skim across her barely covered breasts, and down to the swell of her hips in those skin-tight pants.
I give her a lazy smile. “I could say the same about you.”
She follows my gaze and looks down at the way she’s dressed. I wonder if she realizes that she might as well be naked.
She quickly folds her arms over her chest.
The ringing shrub is starting to annoy me. “Doesn’t this damn bush have voicemail?”
“I hate voicemail,” she grumbles.
“Ah, I see. So this is your phone.”
Grinning, she nods.
“What’s it doing in the bushes?”
“I threw it out the window.”
She threw it out the window? “And now you want it back?”
She lets out a long sigh. “I suppose I do.”
I sink to my knees so I can run my hand under the bush and over the wet soil. When I retrieve the phone, I rub its surface along my thigh to brush the loose dirt off.
She ends the call from the landline phone she’s holding and reaches for her cell phone.
I’m still on my knees when I hand it to her. It feels a little weird, but I like this view of her. Actually, I think I’d enjoy any view of her.
She turns to check her messages and the phone practically explodes with prompts. She sighs again. “It still works.”
I nod toward the cell phone as I stand back up. “Someone’s anxious to reach you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe I should just leave it in the bushes.”
“Be my guest.”
She squints as she sizes me up. “So where’s your dad?”
“I’ve been helping him out on the weekends since his knee surgery. He only trusts me with his best clients.”
“Your dad is such a sweetie. He takes care of my friend’s place, too.”
“And your husband’s family.”
She scoffs. “I have no husband.”
I offer up some insincere sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t be sorry. He’s long gone and good riddance.”
“Okay, then.” I shrug. If she’s good with it, I sure as hell am, too.
I can feel all my red flags popping up as I tread into my danger zone. My attraction to her builds with every minute I’m in her presence.
Sliding my finger under my collar I pull it looser. I try to think about anything but her being single. “So do you have kids?”
“No.” Her expression softens, and she falls silent.
“Well, I guess that’s good then. Divorce is tough with kids.”
“Besides, I’m not sure it could’ve happened. All work and no play made the Mister a very dull boy.”
“And it’s not like I’m overly needy or anything. I just have needs that most men would like attending to.”
I swallow hard. “So those kind of needs.”
She lets her gaze trail from my chest down to my boots. The look in her eyes is hungry, like she’s going to eat me for dessert.
“I’m sure a man like you would understand.”
I take a sharp breath. “I understand one thing for sure.”
She looks up at me expectantly.
“Your ex is an idiot.”
A wide grin spreads across her face. “Oh, I like you. Come on, it’s hot out here. Let’s go inside to cool off. I’ve got some fresh lemonade.”
She doesn’t wait for my response but turns on her heel and heads toward the house.
Her ass looks amazing as she walks. I chuckle too loud as I follow her without any hesitation.
She turns, her long hair swinging over her shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
“My dad only sends me to work on clients’ homes where the women are married or old.”
She laughs out loud. “I bet! Look at you.”
“He sure got this job wrong. Hey . . . what about me?”
She steps right up to me and looks at me with those big gorgeous eyes. “You’re hot . . . and I bet you’re a handful of trouble.”
“Maybe. But I’m pretty sure you are, too.”
She winks and keeps walking.
Holy hell. I feel the adrenalin of my pick-up days shoot up my spine. What I could do with this woman if I was still a player.
Once we’re in her kitchen she pulls out a chair for me as she heads to the fridge. “So lemonade or something stronger.”
“Got any beer?”
Grinning, she takes out two bottles. I notice there are already two empty ones on the counter with their labels peeled off in shreds. No wonder her phone got thrown across the yard. She notices me staring at the mess.
“Yeah, I was having one of those days.”
When she slides into the chair across from me, she glances down at her outfit, pulls her low neckline up a little higher and pushes her hair off her face. “I forgot you guys were coming today, and I really wasn’t expecting company. I should change into something more presentable.”
Despite all my efforts to play it cool, I doubt I can hide the weight of my lust for her in my expression. “Not on my account. I like that outfit.”
“Hmmm.” She takes a swig of beer as she studies me, the corners of her mouth turning up.
I nod at the buzzing cell phone she set down on the table. “Is that your ex trying to reach you?”
“No, not my ex.”
“Oh, so there are others.”
Of course there are others . . . I mean, look at her.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s that damn profile on my Tinder page. I made a mistake saying that I have a very open mind.”
“Why is that a mistake?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the weirdos that contact me.”
I take a long sip of my beer as I watch her. This woman is making my head spin. “Do you mind me asking something?”
“Not at all.”
“Why are you using Tinder? I have to think that men are falling all over each other to be with you.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be with anyone. I’ve done that and I like being on my own.”
Puzzled, I point to the phone. “So?”
“You really want to know? You won’t judge me?” She pauses and appraises me like she’s trying to determine if I can be trusted.
I nod—my curiosity piqued.
She squares her shoulders and boldly stares me in the eye.
“I want sex, lots of sex. Nothing more. I’m only looking for hookups.”
I cough, almost spitting up my beer. Is she serious?
“Initially it was my girlfriend’s idea. After the crash and burn of my marriage she knew that my self-esteem was low, and thought if I had some fun I’d realize how hot I am.” She laughs and rolls her eyes playfully.
“I can’t believe you ever questioned that,” I reply.
She shrugs. “My husband’s lack of interest preyed on me after a while.”
I shake my head in disbelief. Her ex must be nuts.
“I’d always been a ‘good’ girl, so I thought my friend was crazy to suggest doing hook-ups on Tinder . . . but I agreed to try, and for the most part, I’ve had fun.”
“I bet you have.” I grin, imagining how men must react to her. A few years ago she would’ve been my ideal woman.
She taps the phone with her manicured nails. “And Tinder is an efficient way to sort through the crowd.”
“Then why did you throw your phone in the bushes?”
She leans back into her chair. “This last creeper pushed me over the edge. He wanted me to wear a latex body suit and sit on him.”
My eyebrows knit together. “What?”
“Exactly! So you can see why I’m agitated!”
“So you’re not a fan of squatting in latex body suits?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.
“Hell no. I want hot sex. I’m not interested in being taken to dinner, or saran- wrapped for some kinky weirdo. Is there anything wrong to just want to get screwed?”
I shake my head. I can’t believe this woman. She’s already drained her beer and she’s at the fridge getting us two more.
“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all,” I say.
“You’re a man. Tell me if I’m being unreasonable. If you saw me on Tinder would you want to straight-up screw me?”
I set my beer down. “Um, Ms. Jacoby.”
“Oh, for God’s sake call me Elle.”
“If I was a Tinder guy I’d really want to do that, Elle. But I’m a take you to dinner and get to know you kind of guy.”
She laughs loudly and waves her hands toward the ceiling.
“Damn, can I get a break! My sprinkler man won’t even screw me!”
I pick my beer back up. “I’m not a sprinkler man.”
She purses her lips together and her smile fades. “I’m sorry . . . I offended you.”
“I’m a landscape architect.”
“That’s so hot.”
I shake my head in reproach. “Remember I’m just helping out my dad until he’s fully mobile again after his surgery. Regardless, fixing irrigation systems is an honorable profession.”
“Right, sorry.” She glides her fingers along the curve of the beer bottle before looking up at me with a coy smile.
“So is sex really all that matters to you?” I ask.
“Maybe it won’t be when I finally get some that’s satisfying.”
Oh, good Lord. How much restraint can one man be expected to have?
I let out a sigh of regret. “Well, I’d love to help you out but I don’t do casual sex. Been there, done that.”
I square my shoulders after making my declaration. After almost two years of following my abstinence program, I can say I’m confident I’ve moved on from my sex-obsessed ways, but it still makes me cringe with a sense of loss after the words leave my lips.
She pounds her fists on the table. “My timing is always shit. So if I’d met you during your been there period you would’ve screwed me?”
“Without a doubt. Screwed is too simple of a word for all the things I would have done to you.”
I take a deep breath and glance over my shoulder at the kitchen layout. “I’d have you bent over your kitchen island as we fucked, or your legs would be wrapped around me as I took you against that wall.”
“You’re killing me here! Are you good in bed?”
“Good?” I smile, remembering those days. “That wasn’t the adjective most women used. What do you think?”
“My guess is a big fat yes.”
Leaning back, I stretch out my legs under the table. “Let’s just say, back in the day . . . I’m not ashamed to say I did all right.”
She huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “I bet you did. And I bet you have a big cock too.”
Good Lord, no more beer for her.
My eyes roll back. “You’ve got a filthy mouth.”
“So what. Do you?”
“Have a big cock? Is this information you really need to know?”
She looks down under the table. “Ha! You’ve got big feet!”
Jesus, this woman.
“And you’re so tall.” She grabs my hand. “And you’ve got thick fingers. You know what they say . . .”
I watch her trail her fingers over mine as she gives me a sultry wink.
I lean over, and whisper into her ear, “I’ve got a huge cock.”
She looks drunk with lust as she bites her lip. “Hung like a horse?” she whispers.
“Oh for God’s sake.” She scoots her chair closer. “Show me.” Her eyes are twinkling, yet it’s hard to tell if she’s teasing or not.
“Yeah, sure.” I take a long draw from my second beer.
“Come on,” she presses, seeming hopeful.
“Well, besides the fact that that would be a complete violation of my new lifestyle, I’m hard right now. I don’t want to scare you, Elle.”
“Ooo,” she moans.
“Not to mention, you have quite a beer buzz going on and I don’t play that way.”
Her cheeks grow pink as she picks at the label on her beer bottle. “That’s gallant of you but I don’t think you’d be taking advantage of me, if that’s your concern. Besides, I’m four years older than you. Some people might think I’m taking advantage of a younger man.”
I arch my brow and shake my head.
She tries to peek under the table. “So are you really hard, or are you messing with me?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I set down my beer. “But I’ve got to go. I’ve got another client’s system to check out, since I’m the sprinkler man and all.”
“You aren’t going to let go of that are you? Is this some kind of cruel punishment?”
“No.” I can’t resist giving her a hard time. “Are you always this direct?”
She blushes an even darker pink. I could totally get addicted to this woman.
“No, since I’ve been single I’m usually just flirty, but as you said, I’ve had a few beers and you’re incredibly handsome . . . I really didn’t expect to look out my window and see a man like you on his knees.”
“So I should be flattered?”
“Absolutely. You caught my eye, and then got me all hot and bothered. How tall are you anyway?”
“Six foot two.”
“And you work out. It’s not just your fine body, it’s your face . . . something about that sharp jawline and your green eyes.” She fans herself. “Oh my.”
“You’re pretty amazing yourself, even if you have a filthy mouth.”
She gets a devilish look in her eyes. “So can you show me your jumbo cock then? I promise not to touch it, so you won’t be breaking your rules.”
What’s in this beer? I’m seriously considering her offer.
“This is the weirdest customer conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Please.” She tugs on my index finger and something about that makes my cock harder and weakens my will.
“You’re one pushy woman.”
“If you show me yours . . . I’ll show you mine.” She skims her fingers down between her breasts. “I’ve seen you admiring them.”
That captures my attention but I’m not sure I trust her.
“I may be crazy, but I’ve got great breasts.”
“So tit for tat, or shall I say tit for cock?”
She laughs with delight. “Yes!”
She’s so damn cute when she laughs. I’m going to have to tell Dad about her so he never sends me here again. I’m liking her way too much. I mean, I’m seriously considering showing her my cock and that’s testing my Abstinence Until Love program.
Who am I kidding? It’s a complete violation.
Still the longer I look at this sexy woman, the weaker I get. My resistance is crumbling like a soft-baked cookie.
She sets down her beer and runs her hands over her breasts slowly. Damn. I’m doomed.
Standing, I polish off my beer before I set the empty bottle down on the table. I nod at her. “Well, it’s really hot when you touch your tits but are you going to show me?”
“Are you?” Her eyes grow wide like she can’t believe I’m going to do this.
I narrow my eyes and slowly start to undo my belt. I’m feeling that mind-bending surge of lust from the old days right before I’d score a particularly hot woman. My heart is pounding, and I can’t believe I’m caving.
She runs her fingers along the hem of her tank top and then slowly inches it up. I start to drag my zipper down so I can pull out my cock but it’s not going smoothly. I’m so fucking hard it hurts and it’s making everything tighter. It’s going to take some maneuvering to get it out. The whole time I’m screwing around with the zipper I’m cursing myself inwardly for being so weak willed.
“Do you need help?” She’s grinning like it’s Christmas morning.
If she could only know the kind of help I’m picturing.
I huff. “I can do this. It’s just what we were talking about is making this difficult. If I’d known I’d be playing show ‘n tell I would’ve worn looser jeans.”
She waves her hand at me. “Move your fingers,” she says.
I rest my hands on my hips as she fixes her stare on my crotch.
“Oh my God! It’s huge! Is that anaconda in your pants really you?”
“Of course it’s me! What do you think it is?”
“I knew a guy once who stuffed socks down there.”
What do you bet it was her ex?
“Are you serious? What the hell good is that? As soon as your pants are down the jokes on you.”
She shrugs. “Why do women wear padded bras? False advertising I guess. So seriously, is that padding or the real deal?”
“Let me put it this way . . . why would I stuff socks down my shorts to go on a work call? I had no idea you were going to be intrigued by what kind of heat I was packing.”
I look at her tits that are still covered as I fumble with my zipper again. Her excited nipples are so defined through the fabric that they give the term ‘perky’ new meaning. I have this kidlike compulsion to not show her mine until she shows me hers. It’s ridiculous because at this point I may never get my jeans open. “Well?”
She pulls the fabric up excruciatingly slow as her gaze fixates on my fingers trying to work the zipper further down. When the bottom of her breasts are exposed I start rethinking my done that stance. I can already tell that her tits are epic, making me reconsider shifting back into the been there category. Her nipples are hard for me. My cock is hard for her. It all seems so straightforward.
Wait, what the hell am I doing?
“Hurry and get that bad boy out so I can imagine licking it,” she purrs.
Licking it? I stare at her mouth and wonder how my dick would look between her pretty lips.
I can picture her on her knees gazing up at me through those thick lashes. My blood starts to boil as I slowly burn for her.
For a second I’m ready to throw all my hard work out the window, but then in my mind I see my dad’s face and it’s jarring—reminding me of my promise to him and to my sponsor. It pains me when I carefully zip my fly back up.
She gives a little pout and fondles her breasts to tease me. “What are you doing? Are you really going to turn me down?”
I close my eyes and chant my oath to myself.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
like the fact that I’ll always be a horny bastard
The courage to change the things I can, like not screwing every
broad that asks me to.
And the wisdom to keep my cock in my pants . . .
I open my eyes with renewed resolve. “Sadly, yes I am.”
She pulls her shirt down low and full-on pouts.
“Believe me, there will be regret. However, I made a promise to my dad and a promise to myself. I used to be completely out of control, but now I’m a reformed man.”
“That sounds so dull.” She sighs and leans forward on her elbows. “I mean, what fun is that?”
“When I meet the one, it will be worth the wait. I want what my parents have.”
Her eyes go soft. She glances down at the table and rubs her fingers over the surface deep in thought. When she looks back up at me her eyes are glassy. “I wanted that once and even thought I found it, but I was wrong. I really hope you find it, Paul Junior.”
Her tender reaction makes me think there’s more to her than this vixen. I smile at her. “Thanks, Elle. And I hope you find the right guy to give you all that great sex you deserve.”
Before she lets me out the front door she turns to me, suddenly seeming more sober. She stares in my eyes. “Should I be embarrassed? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe the heat, but there’s something about you. You brought the wild side out of me.”
I shake my head. “No, in another time it would’ve been perfect. You’re seriously hard to resist, Elle.”
“I’d say I’m sorry if it was too much, but honestly I’m not. Regardless, please don’t tell your parents how forward I was. They’re such nice people. Well, I haven’t met your mom yet but she’s so lovely on the phone.”
I smile to reassure her. “Don’t worry, it’s our secret.”
Once I’m in the truck I pause before driving off. Did I really just turn down sex with the hottest woman I’ve seen for a long time, maybe ever?
As I fire up the engine and gun the truck down the street my mood swings between feeling proud of myself for sticking to my plan, and idiotic for not encouraging her to lick my cock. I adjust myself and try to focus on the road. My raging hard-on better calm down before I get to the Anderson’s house.
Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director Bob Clampett, grew up surrounded by artists and animators. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, she has been VP of Design for Warner Brothers Studio Stores and taught photography at UCLA. Today she runs her own studio and as the Fine Art publisher for Warner Brothers Studios has come to know and work with some of the world’s greatest artists in the fields of animation and comics.
From this colorful background comes Ruth’s first novel, Animate Me, a fun and sexy, unique and engaging contemporary romance.
Ruth lives and works in Los Angeles, strictly supervised by her teenage daughter, who helps plan their summer around their yearly pilgrimage to the San Diego Comic Con.