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    Big Boy
    Big Boy
    Big Boy
    Ebook72 pages1 hour

    Big Boy

    By Ruthie Knox

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    He'll be any man she wants--except himself.

    A Strangers on a Train story

    Meet me at the train museum after dark. Dress for 1957.

    When Mandy joins an online dating service, she keeps her expectations low. All she wants is a distraction from the drudgery of single parenthood and full-time work. But the invitation she receives from a handsome man who won’t share his real name promises an adventure—and a chance to pretend she’s someone else for a few hours.

    She doesn’t want romance to complicate her life, but Mandy’s monthly role-playing dates with her stranger on a train—each to a different time period—become the erotic escape she desperately needs. And a soul connection she never expected.

    Yet when she tries to draw her lover out of the shadows, Mandy has a fight on her hands…to convince him there’s a place for their fantasy love in the light of day.

    Warning: Contains sexy role-playing, theatrical application of coal dust, and a hero who can rock a pair of brown polyester pants.

    Editor's Note

    Poignant and Sexy...

    This novella is remarkable in its ability to pack so many emotions into its relatively short length. It’s got role-playing, secret identities, passionate sex, and complications. Knox is a beautiful writer, with each word conveying a wealth of meaning.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Publishing
    Release dateAug 10, 2021
    ISBN9781094426303

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    Reviews for Big Boy

    4.5/5

    30 ratings4 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Such a fun read if you want something for one sitting. Great writing as well.
    • 5/5
      Such an amazing story. Totally mind blowing! Full of emotions.
    • 5/5
      Ruthie continues to amaze me! How she managed to fit a full story with heartfelt characters who I could actually feel the contention between in 66 pages amazes me! I have never read anything like it. This is probably the best novella I have ever read! Truly Fantastic!
    • 5/5
      Loved this short story! Absoluteley perfect.

    Book preview

    Big Boy - Ruthie Knox

    Chapter One

    He always meets me at the gate. The chain link swings open, and I pull my car through at a crawl. I don’t look to the left where he’s standing. I don’t want to know who he is yet.

    Until I step onto the train, he’s nobody special.

    Are my seams straight? I ask, pausing in my walk so I can tip the arch of my foot toward the floor of the train car and point my toe. I glance over my shoulder, the epitome of coy.

    I’m Marilyn Monroe from Some Like It Hot tonight. I coaxed Lisa into sewing the black satin dress for me, adding fringe from a flapper costume I found at Goodwill. Lisa says that in this dress, my ass looks like two puppies fighting under a blanket.

    The banked fire in his eyes tells me that’s a good thing.

    He wears a leather jacket and a newsboy cap. He carries my luggage. When we get to my berth, I’ll tip him, and he’ll smirk at me the way he does.

    Rocky is his name. I asked when I handed him my hatbox.

    He’s five or six inches taller than me, his body lean and sculpted by hard work. I bet he looks grand with his clothes off.

    I toss him a smile, another form of gratuity. Well? Are they?

    He shakes his head as if I’m doing something to him, and it’s painful, and he’d like me to stop. But all he says is They’re straight, ma’am.

    I’m ma’am tonight. I like that.

    I think it means I’ll get to be in charge, but I’m wrong.

    As soon as we pass through the narrow doorway of the berth, he’s on me, his hands spanning my waist, sliding over the curve of my hips. His skin catches the slick material of my dress. He puts his lips on the pulse at my throat and lingers there. I hear him draw in a deep breath, reverent.

    I missed you too.

    And then his mouth is moving down, down, until he reaches the tightly cosseted swell of my breasts.

    Stop me if you’re gonna stop me, lady.

    I want to lift my leg up and wrap it around his hip, but I can’t lift anything. I’m wearing a garment designed for mincing around. I know, because I designed it.

    You’re awfully fresh. I can feel the smile on his lips as they brush my nipple through the satin. The tease.

    You married, ma’am? He addresses the question to my cleavage.

    You care?

    I don’t truck with married women. He lifts his head to tell me this, his hound-dog eyes all soulful and dark. He’s lost the cap. I see it on the floor where our feet have tangled together, Glen-check wool next to beat-up cordovan oxfords and two-tone pumps with bows on the toes.

    I spent days finding the right shoes.

    A cad with principles. I furrow my fingers through his hair. He’s slicked it back, but I loosen it. I like it falling in his eyes. That’s rich.

    Who says I’m a cad?

    He squeezes my ass, his long fingers pressing close to where I want them but not close enough.

    Jeez, fella, I say on an exhale, dropping my head to the wall behind me and letting my eyes drift closed. I sure as hell hope you’re a cad.

    I imagine the vibration of the train in the wall behind my back as he peels the satin off my shoulders and puts his mouth on me. As he drops to his knees and pushes the dress up my hips. The fringe ought to be an impediment, but he’s the sort of man who can handle a little fringe.

    He’s not a cad, though. Not really.

    The babysitter is sick, and I hate her.

    This makes me a bad person, I know. She sounds so pathetic on the phone, frog-voiced and snotty, and I’m supposed to comfort her. It feels like emotional blackmail. Why do I have to be nice to her when she’s ruining my day?

    I can still come if you want me to. She means I want to stay in bed and watch reruns of bad television. I just don’t want to get Josh sick. Only a very bad mother would expose her child to this pestilence. A very bad, very selfish mother.

    I’m not a bad mother. Not usually. But there’s no room in my life for sick babysitters. I have to teach in forty minutes, and I haven’t done my class prep yet. I have office hours afterward, meetings with nine separate students to talk about papers they haven’t started thinking about writing. I have a dissertation chapter to finish if I’m going to manage not to get fired when I come up for my contract renewal in the fall.

    Sometimes Josh gets the short end of the stick, but I console myself with the thought that I get it a lot more often.

    I’m not a bad person. On the other hand, I’m not such a good one that I’m going to tell my babysitter to stay home. This will be a life lesson for her: Don’t say yes when you mean no.

    Maybe if I’d learned that lesson sooner, I’d have told my sister no when she asked me if she could put me

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