12 comments/ 22237 views/ 9 favorites Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips By: patientlee This story is a birthday present for my friend and mentor, Tx Tall Tales. It is a Summer Lovin' 2015 contest entry. Please vote one time, if you wish. *** "Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips," I said when I picked up the phone in my salon in Syracuse. It was past closing time. I should have let it go to voicemail. There was silence at the other end. "Hello? Can I help you?" "Joe? It's me." Angel. Her voice hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking me into the rolling chair behind the desk. "Honey, why you calling me so late?" She said nothing as she cried on the other end of the phone. "Is everything okay? It's kinda hard to talk right now," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "Maria's in the back room. She'd kill me if she found out I was talking to you." Angel sniffled one more time and said, "I'm in trouble, Joe." * * * * I eased my Ford F-150 onto Interstate 90, which was almost deserted at this hour, on my way to some motor lodge on Cape Cod to find Angel. We hadn't spoken since the day she left with her junkie boyfriend and his screamo band. What a pile of fuck up that day was. She'd told me she was leaving, but I didn't expect her to take a thousand bucks from the safe in my office with her. Maria, my sister and business partner, caught her red-handed while I stood near the front desk, talking to the boyfriend, trying to wrap my head around the sudden announcement that Angel was leaving the salon she'd helped us build to tour with the band as their stylist. I'd met the band. Their ridiculous hair didn't need a stylist, especially one as talented as Angel. I was thinking that a weed whacker would do the job, but I shook his hand and wished both of them well. Maria's shout stopped me in mid-shake. "Call 9-1-1!" I hadn't even let go of the boyfriend's hand when Angel ran to the door, clutching her bulging purse. "You get back here, bitch!" Maria ran after her, but her heavy frame kept her from moving fast enough. "I'm sorry, Joe," Angel yelled as she rushed by on the opposite side of the desk. "I swear, I'll pay you back." I couldn't catch her in time, and before I gathered my wits, they were gone. That was five years ago. I sighed as I set the truck's cruise control and cranked the air conditioner. I hoped it would be cooler in Massachusetts. The calendar still said summer, but it was after Labor Day. The temperature should have been dropping, but we were stuck in a six-day heatwave with no end in sight. I took a sip from my gas-station coffee and let the memories wash over me. I was a stockbroker for years until I burnt out in my early forties and my wife divorced me. A buddy of mine was picking on me one night at a bar when I was feeling sorry for myself, and he said the craziest thing. "Man, you know what you should do? You should be a fucking hairdresser." "Do I look like a fag to you?" What an idiot this guy was. A fucking hairdresser. Jesus. "No, really. Think about it. You'd meet ten women every fucking day. And the job wouldn't be stressful. Seriously!" I shook my head and looked at my watch. "What makes you think I would be able to do anything with hair? Look at mine, for Christ's sake." I ran my hand through the mess of curly, salt-and-pepper locks on the top of my head. "Nah, you go to school. They teach you how to do it. Then you get your own hairdressing place. What do you call that?" "A salon?" "Yeah. A salon. Seriously," he said before draining the last of his beer. "Think about it." When I sobered up in the morning, I acknowledged that the idea had some merit. I had plenty of money stashed where my ex-wife couldn't vacuum it away from me, so I checked out beauty schools. I expected to be the only guy in class. I was close; I was the only straight guy. The other two were typical, swishy hairdresser types. Angel was the first person in class I talked to. I admit that my intentions were less than pure when I first said hello. I was forty-two years old; she was eighteen, right out of high school. My wife had been gone for a year, and I was desperate. I tried not to let it show when I introduced myself. "I'm Joe. I'm the straight guy," I said, getting that out of the way. "I'm Angel. I'm straight, too." Shoulder-length blonde hair, upturned nose dotted with freckles, hazel eyes, perky tits. Adorable. "I'm not looking for a date or anything though." I laughed right out loud. She saw right through me. I gave her points for that. "I'm not looking for a date either, honey. I need a new career is all. My sister does hair, and she seems pretty happy. I thought I'd give it a shot." She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. "You don't look like a hair stylist." "Yeah? What do I look like?" I couldn't hide my grin. This kid was delightful. She tipped her head and scrunched up her nose, thinking about it. "Hmm. A computer guy." Class started, so I didn't get to respond. I grinned to myself, thinking that this spunky blonde was a hell of a lot of fun, even if she wouldn't go out with me. * * * * About three months into the nine-month program at Marquis Beauty Academy, the "kids" in my class invited me out to The Rooster Hut with them for their weekly wing night. Hanging out with people who were young enough to be my children wasn't my idea of a good time, but it was an opportunity to get to know my future competition and enjoy a night with someone other than my boxer puppy. Most of the group came with boyfriends, even the other two guys. I went to the bar for a beer before sitting down, and when I returned, Angel waved me over to an empty seat next to her. I was grateful. Most of those girls were bitchier than my ex-wife. I didn't need that shit. "Hey, Joe," she chirped when I sat. "I saved you a seat." "No boyfriend to keep you company?" "I told you I wasn't looking for one." She slapped me on the shoulder and wrinkled her nose. For a moment, I wished she was. I could have fallen in love with that nose wrinkle. "I figured you were blowing me off gently, honey. And I don't think you'd have to look too hard to find one." She waved me off, just as the waitress arrived with platters of wings. "We just get a bunch of wings and pitchers and split the cost," Angel said. "It's easier that way." "Can I get you something, sir?" the waitress asked. I raised my glass and shook my head. I thought maybe I'd pick up the tab at the end of the night and win some favor from the group. "Sir," Angel said with a giggle. "That makes you sound so old!" "Listen, young lady. I'm old enough to be your father. That earns the respect of being called 'sir.'" "Do you have any? Kids, I mean." I had a wing in my mouth, so I shook my head while I chewed. "No. My ex-wife wasn't the maternal type. She was content with her yappy Bichons, which she took with her when she left. Thank god." I took another bite before she could expect me to say more. Conversation at the table turned to dream salons. I tuned in, mostly because I didn't think any of these kids had a shot at making it in business. After hearing some of their plans, I had even less faith in their success. You'd think they were independently wealthy the way they dreamed. I fought to control my rolling eyes as one of the gay guys talked about his rainforest salon, Jungle Cuts. His Vietnamese boyfriend was a painter, and the plan focused murals of the Asian jungle rather than hair styling equipment. Korri's idea was the most extravagant. The queen bee of the group was planning an aquarium theme with salt water tanks lining the walls. Korri's Kolorful Kuts she'd call it. Until she went out of business anyway. Angel's was the best of the bunch: Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips. Efficiency and a modern atmosphere was her focus, and I liked the name. "That's actually pretty good," I said. "It's got your name in it, it lists the services you offer, and it rhymes, so people will remember it." Korri snickered. "It does have her name in it. Right, Angel Lips?" The vicious look on her face when she laughed with Mackenzie told me exactly what she implied, but she turned on me before I spoke up to defend Angel. "Hey, Joe!" Korri shouted from the other end of the table. "That was a nice curling job you did the other day. Your model looked ... great." Angel's head spun towards me. The look of indignation on her face was comical. I'd made a mess out of my model's hair; I knew that. I had no talent for any of what we did in class, but I was going to muddle through this course, earn my cosmetology license, and open my salon. I didn't have to be great, I just had to pass the tests and find some talented people to work for me. My sister had already started dropping hints that she'd like to go into business with me. "It's okay, Ainge," I said to her, placing my hand on her arm before she could bolt out of her seat. Life never changes. There are always bitches. "Thank you," I said loudly with a wave to Korri. "They are not being kind to you," Angel said. "They are mean, and they're making fun of you." "Honey, I know that, and I can take care of them myself. Bitchy women are a part of life. I have more years' experience handling girls like those two than they have being bitchy. What goes around, comes around." The waitress returned with refilled pitchers. "Miss?" I said, flagging her before she could leave the table. "Can you put one of these plates of wings on a separate check for me? I'll have another Guinness, too. And put this young lady's drinks on my tab." She was drinking Pepsi. I chuckled, thinking that I'd be up all night if I drank Pepsi at this hour. She fiddled with her napkin. "Why did you do that?" "Do what? Buy you a drink?" "Yeah. Why are yours and mine on a separate check? We always split it. It's no big deal." "Well, honey. I was planning to pay the tab for everybody tonight, but Korri's comment changed my mind for me. I don't buy drinks for bitchy women. It's a rule I adopted after my divorce." The mischievous grin that crossed her face told me she understood. * * * * After Korri's mean-spirited compliment at the wing joint, I realized I had to step up my game. What I lacked in creativity, I had to make up in technical competence. I needed a freaking tutor. I asked my sister first, figuring she had more styling experience than our instructors did, but she laughed at me. "Joe, I missed two of my kids' basketball games last week without having to help your sorry ass. Where do you think I'm going to find the time?" "I know, but I thought I'd give it a shot." My sister and I were close, but she was right. She had three kids. She was lucky she had time to do her own hair before opening her shop for the day. "Tell you what," she said. "If you find somebody to help you, you're welcome to come over on Sundays when I'm closed." Her salon was in her basement. "Just make sure you aren't charging anyone for haircuts. And bring your own stuff." Now I was getting somewhere. Angel was my next choice. That girl was born to do hair. Cut, color, curl—that girl could do it all with flair. And she was fucking creative. She smoked those mean girls time after time. Of course, she also smoked me, but I was proud of her, which kept my competitive nature in check. After the first tutoring session at my sister's, I stopped thinking of her as an adorable kid and started fitting her into my business plan. Angel was the key to my success. Our tutoring sessions were a blessing and a curse though. I obviously needed the help, and the one-on-one time with Angel gave us hours to brainstorm our business. Spending time with a beautiful woman eased the loneliness that had been plaguing me since my divorce. The problem was that I enjoyed her company more than a guy my age should have. On more than one occasion I drove home with a semi and had to relieve myself with a good, hard jerk-off before I could fall asleep. She was young enough to be my daughter, but that wrinkled nose and those hazel eyes were hard to ignore. Maria finally stopped beating around the bush during my third session with Angel. She wanted to get in on our venture. She waited until Angel left, and then she invited me upstairs for a chicken dinner. "Okay, Joe," she said as she handed me the mashed potatoes to set on the table. "You have the money. Angel has the talent. Where are you going to get your clients?" "Angel's gonna get a job a mall salon while I work on renovations." I was being the bratty little brother, making her come out and say what was on her mind. "You're doing the renovations yourself?" My sister frowned, doubting my ability. "Maria, have faith. I know some guys." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Look. You need me. I don't have any money to buy in, but I have clients. I also have a husband with a contractor's license." She called Bob, my brother, to dinner, and the plan expanded. She was right. Salon experience, clients, and a contractor completed the package. * * * * My next trip to The Rooster Hut with "the gang" was my last. Angel's too. She caught a ride with one of the gay guys. The group was smaller this time, so we both had to sit closer to the mean girls. They started on Angel the minute we arrived. "Angel Lips!" Korri's boyfriend said when Angel sat down next to him. I shot him a look, but he was just getting started. He turned to me. "You must know by now. Her lips are awesome, aren't they?" He leered at her and licked his own lips for emphasis. Korri smacked him on the arm. "Shut up, Alan," Angel said in a low growl. "Yeah, Alan," Korri said. "Shut up." Alan was pissing her off, too. "Alan," I said, "I think you should watch your mouth." I willed my hands to stay on the table so I didn't grab him by the neck. Mackenzie's boyfriend laughed. "Angel, you remember the party at Carlos's house, right before Christmas? We all tried those lips on for size that night, even Kenzie!" He smiled at his girlfriend, making her blush and elbow him in the ribs. Angel didn't say another word. She stood, picked up the pitcher of Pepsi, and dumped it on the boyfriend's head. I was proud of her. I followed her out of the bar, stopping only to tell the asshole that he got what he deserved. I met her in the parking lot. She was a mess. "Angel, honey. Ignore them." Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms and held her while she cried. "They're right." "No. They're assholes." I rubbed her back. "They're not nice people." "No, Joe. They weren't lying. I went to high school with them. They know I did those things." Her voice was a whisper. "That was in the past, Ainge. Don't pay any attention to them." That was when I noticed the scent of her hair—fruit and some sort of spice, vanilla probably. When her arms reached around me, I knew I was in trouble. She melted into my chest, and the long months alone caught up with me. My cock stirred, and I stepped out of the embrace before she noticed. "C'mon. Let's go get a drink somewhere else." I led her to my truck, and we went to a hole-in-the-wall bar about a mile from my house. I figured I could get away with sneaking her in there without ID. I set her up at a table in a dark corner so we could talk and went to the bar to get our drinks. When I placed the pink drink in front of her, she smiled for the first time that evening. "What is it?" "Sex on the Beach." "That's the name of it?" She giggled, wrinkling that adorable nose. "Every girl's dream, right?" I said, winking at her. I wondered for a moment if she'd ever even been to the beach, since Syracuse isn't exactly close to the seashore. She was cute even when she was miserable though. I sat down across from her. "Talk to me, honey. What was that ugliness was about?" She beat around the bush until she'd downed that first drink. She was only eighteen, so not much of a drinker, and she was about a hundred pounds soaking wet. Halfway through her second drink, she started talking. "Joe, I'm gonna tell it to you straight. I'm a slut." "No, honey. It's not that bad." "No. I'm serious. I gave, like, a thousand blowjobs in high school. I don't know why I did that, but I did." "It's in the past. You don't have to dwell on that. Let's just move on." "They all called me Angel Lips because they liked my lips on their dicks." She was sobbing again. "I used to be proud of that freaking name! Do you believe that shit?" I let her cry it out and waved the waitress over for a refill. When she finally stopped crying, I changed the subject to our salon. As always, talk of the salon brought out the professional in Angel, and I knew she'd be okay. We chatted while we finished our drinks, and then I drove her home. I walked her to the door because I'm a gentleman. And she was stumbling a bit. The trailer park she lived in was neat and well kept, and her trailer was nice enough, even though it was small. I helped her up the stairs and onto the porch, and before I had the chance to open the front door for her, her arms were around me for the second time that night. "Angel, what are you doing, honey?" I was not going to take advantage of this girl when she was drunk, no matter how good she smelled. I pushed my late-night, lonely-guy thoughts out of my head, the ones where I imagined her body pressed against mine, as she was doing at that moment. "Why are you so nice to me, Joe?" She was slurring her words. "I'm not the good girl you think I am." "I like you, Ainge. You and I are going to put together a kick-ass salon. You're creative and you're an amazing stylist." And so much more, but I wouldn't go there. "But why do you like me?" The poor kid was desperate for approval, and I didn't know how much longer I could resist giving it to her. "You are delightful. I enjoy the time I spend with you." My arms found their way around her without permission from my brain. She was quiet for a moment, and when I looked down to see what was on her mind, her lips found mine. I wasn't too drunk to drive, but I'd had too many beers to have my arms wrapped around a beautiful eighteen-year-old, especially one I had feelings for. My cock was as hard as a rock, straining against my khakis. I kissed her back for a long time before I came to my senses. I tried to pull away, but she held me tightly against her body. "Honey, we can't—" Her lips smothered mine again, cutting off my words. Her hand went to my fly, and even the alarm going off in my head couldn't make me stop her. I was vaguely aware that we were on her front porch and her grandfather was inside, but when I tried to stop her from getting on her knees before me, my arms wouldn't respond. "Ainge. This isn't a good idea." My fly was down, and her hand reached into the front of my pants. My erection strained against my boxers, desperately trying to meet her fingers. Lust hung around me like an impenetrable fog, clouding my judgment and the alarm in my head. I wanted it to happen. I needed to feel her lips around my cock. If all those other guys knew how hot Angel's lips were, why shouldn't I know too? At least I cared for her. My hands went to her hair. Her hand burrowed under the elastic of my shorts, and her fingers wrapped around my throbbing cock. Her skin against mine sent a jolt through my body, straight to my head, bringing me to my senses in a flash. "Angel!" My hands flew from her hair to my fly in a rush to refasten my pants, and I pulled her to her feet. "Joe," she whined. She was drunk, and I was horny. A lethal combination. I rang the doorbell before she could try again, bringing her grandfather to the door in a hurry. "What the fuck?" he shouted as he flung the door open. He had a baseball bat in his hand. I stuck my hands in the air, surrendering to this angry old man. "Who the fuck are you?" Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips "Sir, my name is Joe. I go to school with Angel—" "Get the fuck off my porch. Angel, get the fuck in the house. Do you know what time it is?" "Grandpa, this is Joe. He drove me home." "Angel, go the fuck to bed. You're fuckin' drunk." I hoped he didn't decide to use the bat on her. She stepped through the door and disappeared into the dark trailer without even saying goodbye. I stepped backwards, my hands still raised. "What the fuck are you doing with Angel?" "I'm Angel's friend. She's had a few drinks, so I brought her home. That's all." "She's just a kid. Get the fuck off my porch, you fuckin' perv." I got the fuck off his porch and drove home as fast as I dared. * * * * Three months later, I received my cosmetology license by the skin of my teeth. My brother finished the renovations to the small, yet expandable space in an old warehouse before our last class, and we opened before the ink dried on our certificates. Angel went to work full-time at Happy Cuts in the mall to build her clientele, and Maria and I established our business. Our grand opening proved that my buddy hadn't steered me wrong when he suggested beauty school. Maria's clients were thrilled to get out of her dingy basement and into a beautiful, brand-new salon. I served them wine and chocolates, and Angel worked her magic, picking up part-time clients right from the start. She didn't work at the mall for long before she was booked solid at our shop. Within months we hired more stylists, nail technicians, and a make-up artist. I never cut a lock of hair again once the salon opened. I was Joe the owner, not Joe the hairdresser. I answered phones, swept floors, served glasses of wine, even gave shampoos. Most importantly, I flirted with the clients. I made them feel special and beautiful, and they kept coming back for more. As a result, I collected ladies' phone numbers on a regular basis and dated some of the women that came into the salon. I even got laid once in a while. I was happier than I'd been in ages. Eighteen months after Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips opened we won our first Best of the City award. To celebrate, we left the salon in the hands of our employees, and I took Angel, Maria, and her husband on a three-day cruise to the Bahamas. Maria and Bob took off on their own as soon as we got on the ship, leaving Angel and me to party together. We had a blast—snorkeling, a catamaran sunset cruise, and shopping in Freeport. On the ship we swam, soaked in the hot tub, drank, and ate too much. Angel looked the happiest I'd ever seen her. It made every penny I spent worth it. On the last night of the cruise, we closed out a bar on the ship with a guy playing the guitar and singing. We were already tipsy from our drinks during dinner. By the time the singer invited people to the dance floor, we were plastered enough to dance. When he sang Joe Cocker's You Are So Beautiful at the end of the night, I held my arms out for Angel. She stepped into my embrace and pulled me closer than I intended. Just like the last time she touched me, on the porch of her trailer, my body reacted to her. She looked up at me with a smile that let me know she noticed. I tried to pull back, but she held me too tightly. I was stuck, and I was drunk, so I went with it. As we swayed together, my cock rubbed against her body. As if I wasn't in charge of my hands, they hands caressed her back. Her sweet-smelling hair tickled my nose, and I was losing myself to her. When her head tipped up, my lips found hers, and my tongue snaked its way into her mouth. Her tongue met mine, and everything outside of that kiss disappeared. Her hands dropped to my butt, sending a rush to my cock and propelling my own hands to the sides of her face. The kiss went on and on, until the couple next to us bumped into my back, telling us to get a room. I led Angel to the entrance and grabbed her hand when we were out of the club. I took her to my room, lust keeping me from acknowledging it wasn't the right thing to do. As soon as the door to my stateroom closed behind us, I unbuttoned my shirt. She turned to let me unzip her dress, and she shimmied out of the red satin garment as I took off my pants. I unhooked her red bra, and when it fell from the front of her, I couldn't stifle the moan that escaped my lips. All that remained were her thigh-high stockings. I reached to cup her breasts and found that they just about filled my palms. I rubbed her hard, pink nipples with my thumbs, eliciting a squeak from Angel. "You are so fucking beautiful," I said as my eyes roamed her body. "I've wanted to touch you since the day we met." She reached her arms around my neck and pulled me in for another kiss. While my tongue probed her mouth, she hooked her thumbs through the elastic on my boxers and pulled them down. My cock sprung free, and I sighed with relief as much as pleasure. Her hand wrapped around my hardness and she jacked me while I backed toward the bed. "Oh, Joe," she said, "I want you." "I know, honey." I laid her back on the bed and eased her red, satin panties over her hips and down her long legs, careful not to disturb her stockings. "Beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." I knelt in front of her and spread her legs with my hands. Her bare pussy opened up revealing luscious lips, glistening with arousal. I had to taste her. When my tongue touched her swollen flesh, she jumped, thrusting her hips toward my face. To tease her, I placed my finger against her opening, letting her moisture lubricate my skin. I breathed deeply, taking in her heady scent. I wasn't lying when I told her I'd always wanted her. I'd imagined burying my face between her legs, usually in the dark of the night when I couldn't sleep. It was hard to believe that the very same pussy of my dreams was spread out before me, waiting for my mouth. And framed by stockings, to boot. "Please. I can't wait." My tongue touched her clit, lapping gently at first. Her soft moan matched my soft motions, and I kept at it, even though I longed to devour her. Her hands went to my head, and she pushed me deeper into her wet folds. I licked harder and then faster, and her pelvis responded by bucking into my face. I sucked on her clit, bringing her farther into my mouth, drinking her in. No woman I'd ever tasted compared to Angel's succulence, and when her orgasm shot through her body, I licked until she relaxed under me. I climbed next to her on my bed, settling in against her body and propping myself up over her. I kissed her again, letting her taste herself from my mouth. I hadn't been with a woman lately who enjoyed tasting her own arousal, but Angel kissed me with a hunger that surprised me. My cock throbbed with need, leaking pre-cum onto her thigh. She grabbed my erection and laughed. "A little excited, are we?" Her hand on my cock reminded me of the night on her porch and the damn alarm in my head woke up. She's just a kid. "Angel, this isn't a good id—" She stifled my protest with her kiss and squeezed my cock. Lust and alcohol swirled through me, pushing doubt to the background as she crawled down my body. When her warm mouth enveloped my cock, I groaned loudly, not caring if my sister in the adjoining room could hear. When her lips wrapped around my rigid flesh, I knew I was lost. Angel's lips slid up and down while she licked from my balls to the tip of my cock. "Oh, honey. I'm not gonna last long." I ruffled her hair, not paying attention to what I was doing. Her hand rubbed my balls, and I silently willed her to put them in her mouth, something my ex-wife never did for me. After a moment, Angel pulled her mouth off my cock and arranged it over my left nut. She sucked it in slowly, swirling her tongue all around the wrinkled skin, not caring that I'd never in my life shaved down there. She moved to the other one and wrapped her lips around it like she had my cock, moving her lips against my skin as she sucked it. "Oh, my god. You do have the lips of an angel," I moaned, and all at once, the guy's comment that night at The Rooster Hut hit me. Angel Lips. My whole body stiffened as my conscience smacked me across the face. "What's wrong?" she asked when I pulled out of her mouth. "Angel, we can't." My sense of right and wrong returned with a vengeance, and I stood up and looked for my boxers. "Why?" I couldn't tell if she was pissed or hurt. Probably both. "Angel, I'm too old for you. I'm your boss, technically anyway. I don't want to feel like this is my reward for taking you on a nice trip." "Reward? What?" Her eyes teared up, and she looked genuinely confused. "Honey, you know this isn't right. We're drunk. You're gonna sober up and wonder what the hell you were thinking." She stood there, shaking her head. I handed her clothes to her. "Here. Get dressed." "I don't understand. I thought you were having a good time with me." My heart broke. I was trying to do the right thing, and she didn't see it. I helped her zip her dress after I pulled my pants back on. My erection poked painfully against the fabric, but I couldn't worry about my comfort. I had to protect Angel and our partnership. Our friendship, too. I was making the right decision. I opened the door to walk her to her room, just down the hall. As we stepped out the door with Angel adjusting her dress, I heard Maria's voice. "Oh, my god, Joe. Tell me you didn't sleep with her. She's just a kid." * * * * After the cruise, things were tense in the salon. Not only did I cross the line with Angel, my sister knew about it and reminded me as often as she could that she did not approve. Angel rarely smiled at work, and when I was near her, it was difficult for me to keep up my flirtations with the clients, especially hers. It was bad for business. And bad for us. Then things went to hell with Angel. It started when her grandfather died a few months after the trip. I realized later that he was the one that kept her moral compass pointing north. He made sure she ate nutritious food and that she wasn't taking losers into her bed every night. At the reception after his funeral, all of which I paid for, Angel was weird. Not just grieving, but barely there. I found out from one of the girls at the salon that she was stoned. I had no experience with drugs. Beer and a good, single malt scotch, yes. Drugs, no. I had no idea that Angel had been smoking pot and that things were about to get worse. Robin, one of Maria's clients, lived in the same trailer park as Angel. When I brought her a glass of rosé one afternoon while she was getting her weekly set and blow out, she grabbed my arm. "Joe, did Angel tell you about her new boyfriend?" The judgment in her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "No, she didn't." I felt the corners of my mouth wilting, and I willed myself to smile. "Who is he?" Angel had been out of work for a couple of days, and I was worried about her. "He's in a band," Robin said in her old-lady, smoker's voice. "You know, one of those loud, screaming bands with a stupid name and guys that look like girls. I know they're all using drugs." I hoped that the client thought the flush on my face was because I was upset that my employee was a druggie, but Maria knew better. Her angry eyes glared at me in the mirror. "And the whole damn band moved into her trailer. The bastards," she said, shaking her head and clucking her tongue. I went to the back room to pull myself together. "This is not good news," I said to Maria when we talked about it after closing. "You're right, but you're not going to save her. You're not her father." That was like a knife to the gut. "Say what's on your mind, Maria." We needed to get this out and over with. Now. "What the hell do you think is between the two of you? You protect her like you're her father, but then you jump into bed with her the first chance you get." "It wasn't the first chance, believe me." "That doesn't help your argument, Joe. The point is that you have no business pursuing any kind of relationship with her other than our business. You fucked up, and now she's a mess." She was right. I had no argument. "Yes. I did." She didn't expect me to agree. "You need to fix this." She picked up her purse and left. * * * * After the fight with my sister, I tried even harder to help Angel. When she announced that she could no longer work Fridays and Saturdays because she had to do hair and make up for her boyfriend's band, I changed her schedule and hired another stylist. When she needed money to pay her rent, I gave it to her. I paid her electric bill when they shut her power off. I grocery shopped for her when she looked too thin. None of that kept her from stealing from me. When she started missing work, I redoubled my efforts to keep her on track. I appealed to her grandfather's memory, to the deal that we'd made, even to my extreme affection for her, which she shrugged off. When she stopped coming to work altogether, I drove to her house, and when I didn't find her there, I looked in the places where she hung out with her druggie friends. None of it mattered. I'd lost her. A month later she quit for good, breaking my heart, and sending Maria into bitch mode. I thought it was as bad as it could get, but on June 21, 2010, Angel and her freaky boyfriend returned to the salon, pissed on my heart, and stole a thousand dollars from the safe in my office. Maria blamed me, insisting that if I ever spoke to Angel again, she'd burn down the salon and sue me for the insurance money. I didn't doubt that she'd do it. She wouldn't listen to reason when I reminded her that a thousand bucks was a drop in the bucket of Angel's share of the business. She'd earned it fair and square in the early days. When she still came to work every day. I was torn between protecting Angel and hating her for walking out on me. My bitterness had grown in the five years since she left, and I didn't allow myself to think of Angel, not even when Maria and the original staff were bad-mouthing her. If Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips wasn't the cornerstone of our brand, I'd have changed the name of the salon. It hurt my heart every time I saw the words Angel's Lips. And tonight, after all this time, she'd called me. "I'm in trouble, Joe." * * * * The Horseshoe Crab Motor Lodge was right off Route Six on the Cape, a mile and a half from the Cape Cod National Seashore beaches. The humid heat hit me when I opened the door of the truck. With the air conditioner on, I'd forgotten about the never-ending heatwave. Sweating already, I went to the motel office, where Angel said she'd left me a note. It was three-thirty in the morning. I didn't expect that anyone would be there to help me, but there was a note taped to the front door. Joe-Room 17. I knocked on the door and waited. "Angel? It's me." A moment later, the door opened, and a tall brunette with messy hair and bleary eyes stared me in the face. "Are you Joe?" "Yeah. Who are you?" "I'm Skylar. Angel's been crashing here with me for a couple weeks." She stepped aside to let me into the air conditioned room. Angel wasn't there. "Where is she?" My stomach churned with worry. "The beach. She goes there sometimes—" "Wait. She goes to the beach in the middle of the night?" She shot me a look. "As I was saying," she said, obviously annoyed with my interruption. "She goes there at night sometimes when things are bad. Mikey's afraid of the beach, so she feels safer there." "Mikey?" "From the band? Her ex?" The look on her face told me she thought I was a moron. "Oh. Him." I shook that douchebag's hand the day she left with my money, and now she was sleeping on the beach to hide from him? My blood boiled. "How far is it to the beach?" "About a mile and a half. She rides her bike. I'll drive you, if you want. She said she knew you'd come." Skylar pulled on a sweatshirt, which I was sure she didn't need, grabbed her keys, and led me to her Prius. "How do you know Angel?" I asked. "I'm married to the drummer." She looked at me, and I shrugged. "The band? Backward Goldfish? Mikey's the lead singer? My husband Dylan is the drummer?" "Oh." I never even knew the name of the damn band. "Why do you live in a motel?" She paused so long, I thought she hadn't heard me. "It's complicated," she said finally. We rode quietly for a few minutes. "How is she?" I asked, breaking the silence. I braced myself for the answer. "Mikey found her here today. Usually he sleeps all day long, so the days are safer for her. She didn't pay his cable bill though, so he made an exception." "Jesus. What did he do?" I felt sick to my stomach. She shook her head. "He's not a good guy. Her eye was turning black when she left. The bleeding on her cheek had already stopped though." "Bleeding? What the fuck? Did you call the police?" Her deep breath answered the question for me. "I told you. It's complicated." "She sleeps on the beach? That can't be safe. Is she alone there? Is it even open at night?" I couldn't believe it was possible. "She sleeps at the motel during the day. Camping isn't allowed on the beach, but it's not like they can lock the doors and turn on the security system at night. She packs up warm clothes and a chair and spends her night reading a book. A couple weeks ago there were more tourists, so there probably were people around. It's after Labor Day now. The season's winding down." "Doesn't feel like it's after Labor Day. Feels like the fricking Fourth of July, it's so damned hot," I said, eyeing her sweatshirt. "How often does she spend the night at the beach?" "Couple times a week since she's been staying with me. Depends on Mikey and his moods." "Jesus Christ." We pulled into a parking lot, and I saw the red and white lights turning at the top of the lighthouse. "She's under there?" "Yes. It's a bit of a walk from the parking lot though, and I don't know if you can see the light from the beach. Just keep walking till you find her. Have her call me tomorrow, so I know you took her home." Skylar was obviously concerned, but I could tell that she was looking to being free of Angel's drama. She had enough of her own. "Thank you, Skylar," I said. "I'll make sure she calls you." I stepped out of the Prius. The relentless wind off the cold, Atlantic Ocean made it cooler, but it was even more humid, making the air cold and raw. "The stairs are over there." She pointed across the parking lot. I closed the door and walked away. The wooden stairs to the sand were long and steep, and I hoped my knee wouldn't give out on my way down. At the bottom, I took my shoes off and started in the direction of the Nauset Light. I didn't even know what it looked like in the daylight, but all that mattered was finding Angel. Without the daytime sunshine, the sand was cold and damp on my feet. I hoped Angel was wearing shoes and socks. I couldn't see the lighthouse at the top of the sand cliff, but I could see its light reflecting off the clouds. As I trudged through the deep sand, I thought about my history with Angel. From the day I met her, she enchanted me. The five years I spent without her were fucking awful. I needed her in my life. The night on the porch of her trailer, flirting with her clients in the salon and giving her a wink, snorkeling in the Caribbean and dancing in the bar ... and after. I loved her. How did I not know that before she left? Why had I never admitted it to myself? I fucking loved her. It occurred to me at that moment that I could have saved her. That all of this was my fault. If I had let her stay with me that night. If I had made love to her on the cruise instead of kicking her out of my room, she wouldn't have left the salon we built together. I'd hurt her. I'd rejected her. I had driven her into Mikey's life. Mikey. The fucktard that gave her a black eye and forced her to hide on the beach in the middle of the night. Angel's Lips, Snips, and Tips I saw red. Fucking Mikey. Fucking Backward Goldfish. What the fuck kind of name was that for a band anyway? Hitting MY Angel. I made up my mind to find him as soon as Angel was safely tucked away in my apartment in Syracuse, where he couldn't touch her. I'd fucking throat-punch that son of a bitch and make it so he'd never sing again. Fucking asshole. I quickened my step to a trot, my guilt and resolve to protect her propelling me toward Angel. The half-moon did little to light my way, and I tripped, falling hard to my hands and knees, scraping them on broken shells. I jumped back to my feet and ran toward the beam of light that swept against the clouds, red and then white and then red again, as constant as the crash of the waves and the wind whipping off the water. And then I saw it. A hint of light in my peripheral vision. I couldn't even see it if I looked straight at it. I ran faster, despite the shells threatening to shred the skin on the bottom of my feet. I shouted her name, but the wind and waves swallowed up the sound. I couldn't tell how much farther I had to go, but that pinprick of light became easier to see. A cell phone, maybe. Why didn't I get her number before I hung up the phone in the salon? My legs ached, my lungs screamed for air, but I called her name again. This time, the light moved. She heard me. I yelled again and again, and the light bobbed toward me. She was running to me. And then I heard her calling my name. The sweet sound of her voice reached my ears before she did. My name, coming from the lips of my angel made me weak in the knees, and I tripped again. This time I didn't stand. I rolled onto my back and a second later, she was in my arms, lying on top of me, her reading light tossed to the side. "Joe," she said with a sob into my ear. "I knew you'd come." "Angel, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I'm so sorry." My words were lost under her salty lips, the angel's lips I never thought I'd taste again. The kiss consumed us, locked us together, and for the moment, assuaged my guilt. As my sorrow for having rejected Angel ebbed, my lust for her rose. She sat up, straddling me, and when I tried to speak, she pressed her finger to my lips. I held her face to try to see the damage Mikey had done, but it was too dark to see more than her silhouette against the dim moonlight. She pulled her bulky sweatshirt and everything under it over her head, despite the rawness of the wind. Unable to see her, I reached for her breasts. She shivered when my cold, sandy hands touched her skin, and then she laughed. Her laugh filled me with joy and pain all at once. The last time I heard that beautiful sound, we were on a ship in the Bahamas. My thumbs circled her cold, hard nipples, just as they had that night on the cruise, only this time the sand provided extra friction. She threw her head back, giggling. The moonlight outlined her features, and at that moment, she was more beautiful than I'd ever seen her. "Can I talk now?" I asked. "If you can make it quick." "I love you, Angel." There were a million other things I needed to say, but they could wait. "I've always loved you, and I was a fool to let you go." When she leaned to kiss me, her tears fell onto my face, mixing with the salt from the sea air. "I love you, too," she said against my lips as she wriggled her pelvis against my erection. She unbuttoned my shirt without removing her tongue from my mouth, but when she finished, she jumped up and grabbed the blanket that she had been wearing around her shoulders. While she spread it out on the sand, I took off the rest of my clothes, leaving them in a heap. When the wind hit my privates, my erection wilted as my balls tried to climb inside my body. Not caring, I pulled her pants off and eased her down on the blanket. It was too cold for foreplay, but I didn't care. I closed my mouth over her nipple and lashed the cold nub with my tongue. The gritty sand settled between my teeth, and I kept going until her nipple was clean. I moved on to the other one, making her squeal when the wind hit the wet spot in the middle of her breast. I laughed and kept kissing. Whether it was her body heat or my lust, I don't know, but my cock was hard and ready to go once again. She took it into her hand and stroked. "I want to suck your big cock, but I'm afraid you'll run out on me again," she said. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering my reaction the last time her mouth was on my cock, that night on the cruise ship. "Never again," I said as I fondled her tits. "I will not leave you, but—" "But what?" The alarm in her voice reminded me how badly I'd hurt her. "But I'm freezing my nuts off, so I think we should wait on that blowjob." Her chilly hand cupped my balls and she laughed. "Then I think you should come over here so I can warm you up." She lay back on the blanket and spread her legs wide. I fumbled for my wallet in of the pile of clothes and pulled out the condom I kept stashed there. When it was in place, I lined my cock up against her warm pussy, and with a surge of pleasure through my entire body, I entered her. Her heat enveloped me and warmed me from head to toe. It felt like home. "I've missed you so much," she whispered in my ear. "I've missed you, too." The truth of that statement and the realization that I was here, inside of Angel crashed over me. "I'm not gonna last long," I said. She gyrated her hips, grinding her pussy against me as I thrust in and out of her. The pressure built in my balls, and just when I thought I'd explode, she stopped. "Let me ride you." I gasped with frustration, but I loved it. I loved her. "Ornery girl," I said with a smile. I rolled over and she climbed on, sliding her tight pussy down my shaft. When my balls were nestled between her ass cheeks, she resumed grinding against me. I could feel the difference for her. Her muscles tightened to grip me and she thrust her hips in short, jerky strokes. She brought my hands to her tits, and said, "If you pinch my nipples, I'll come faster." She covered my hands with hers, holding on as she worked her clit against my body. I pinched and squeezed, hoping like hell that she'd come first. She did, but just barely. My balls tightened, and I could barely speak. "Gonna come, Angel," I grunted. "Oh my fucking god. Your cock is so big," she yelled. Her pussy clamped my cock, and her spasms drove me over the edge. "Ainge, I love you." That's all I could say as spurt after spurt blasted out of me. When I finally relaxed, she arranged herself on top of my body. "And I love you," she said, tickling my ear with her whisper. When I looked up, the color of the sky had changed from star-filled black to an inky blue. "We should get dressed before we freeze." With our clothes back on and the condom tucked into a tissue from Angel's pocket, we huddled together on the blanket, my arms around her with a familiarity I never thought I'd feel again. "Why didn't you love me back then? Why did you always push me away?" she asked. I could hear the anguish in her voice. "Because I'm an idiot, honey. I didn't think you had real feelings for me." "You thought I wanted to suck your dick just to get your attention, didn't you?" Her sadness echoed through the depths of my soul. "Just like the guys I used to blow in high school." I took her chin in my hands and kissed her. "No. I thought I was taking advantage of you. Remember the first day we met? You were very clear on the fact that you weren't looking for a boyfriend. I thought I was honoring that." Fuck. I was crying. "I didn't know I was hurting you. I thought I was the one that was hurting." I kissed her. "I'm here now, honey. I'm gonna make it right." The sky took on a pinkish hue, and I could finally see this gorgeous piece of the seashore. Lush vegetation covered the sandy cliffs behind us, and the beach stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. The pink sunrise made the cold water a gun-metal gray color, and the waves were larger than I'd imagined in the dark. "Look," Angel said, pointing straight out in the water. "Seals." I smiled at the natural beauty of this perfect place. "Where's the lighthouse?" She pointed behind us. "You can't see it from here. They had to move it back from the edge of the dunes about twenty years ago." We stayed there, watching the sun float above the horizon until people came down the stairs. Fishermen, surf-casting for bluefish, maybe. A couple of joggers, too. All of a sudden, Angel cracked up laughing. "We just had sex on the beach. It's still my favorite drink, you know." I laughed too. "I told you. It's every girl's dream." I kissed her again and then smiled. "Of course, I think they usually dream that it's a little warmer than Cape Cod in the middle of the night." My smile faded when I could finally see what Mikey had done to Angel's face. I traced the rim of the bruise around her eye, fighting the rage that bubbled inside me. She looked so young at that moment. "You're gonna take me with you, right?" she said. "Maria's gonna go ballistic when she sees you're back." I smiled and kissed her forehead. "C'mon, honey. Let's go home." *** Thank you to Tx Tall Tales and MSTarot, my beta readers. You guys rock. To read the inspiration behind this story, please visit my website. Please vote (only once, if you like) or leave me some feedback.