22 BEN
BEN
“Same as last night, then?” I ask from the hallway, trying to sound nonchalant. When really I’m nothing but chalant. Whatever the hell the opposite of nonchalant is.
This is really starting to get to me. Teasing conversations that barely scratch her surface. Tight little outfits that make me physically ache to touch her. Short little kisses that only make me want more.
More more more more
I need to find a bloody Valium.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, let’s just go,” she says, stepping out in…a black leather one piece thing.
“Fuck me sideways and twice on Tuesday.”
She laughs.
I struggle to breathe.
“And yesterday you said…so I can’t…” My hands flex with the desire to do all the groping and grabbing she’s expressly forbidden. “Am I being punished for something?” I grumble.
She sighs with a smile, “For insisting you wanted to go as Batman, maybe. Did you not think I’d wear something like this to be Cat Woman?”
“I…I...” I can’t really think. Or rather, can’t say any of my thoughts out loud. Her suit dips low showing cleavage I want to lick, the leather stretches tight against her glorious legs…and…well, I’m not asking her to turn this time. I’m not that much of a masochist.
“Let’s roll, Bruce.” I freeze as she passes me, then am physically pained at the sight of her backside swaying in front of me in that tight, shiny fabric.
She’s surprisingly cheery for how much she claims to hate socializing, given this is our second night out in a row.
Last night was actually brilliant, until the end.
I kept a hand on her waist or shoulder or arm at all times and she never pulled away.
She laughed at my silly jokes. Accepted a kiss without warning.
Dazzled co-workers and even managed to make small talk and white lies without mucking up the English language.
I thought we were becoming a team. Real friends. Partners in this.
But then in the end she shut me down, or maybe rather shut down on me because of the late hour, but it felt like the former.
Like something about me, about us—the us we felt like last night, out together, at least to me—it got under her skin and settled there, bothering her for the whole drive home.
“You know this is going to be nothing like last night, right?” She asks over her shoulder as we near the car. Nigel sees her in the doorway and quickly turns to climb in his vehicle. Good man.
Wait, not that I mind if other men look. I mean, I never have before. I pull at my shirt that suddenly seems to be choking me. Right, no, I don’t mind.
I’ve never been the jealous type. I appreciate beauty and understand that others will as well.
I rather trend the other direction, happy to show off my dates in all their glory.
Tonight will be no different. Janie looks like every man’s secret comic book fantasy come to life, they’re going to look. Fine.
I reach up and loosen my tie.
Maybe all my extra workouts are finally paying off.
Why’s it so damn hot, though? It’s almost November.
“Are you okay?” Janelle frowns as I get in the driver’s seat.
“Sure, not like last night how?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t wonder about why I’m driving when Nigel has to be with us tonight.
I feel like a fool knowing the truth is that I want the time alone with her.
My so-called work on the weekdays keeps me in the city or flying about, and last night, with Nigel driving, she barely spoke at all on our drive to the party.
“Ummm,” she draws out the word, not picking up on my, what, nerves?
No. Not picking up on whatever the hell’s gotten into me.
“Let’s see, instead of tasteful and chic, it’ll be hokey, loud, probably mediocre food, not an open bar but still everyone will somehow get super drunk.
Oh and ridiculous costumes, either the tacky or the slutty variety. ”
“You really do hate this town, eh?”
She short-circuits for a second. “N-no, I…I’m being a jerk. Again. A lot of the town is fine. Lovely, even. It was just hard sometimes, growing up here.”
“Can I ask why?” I keep my voice light, though I find myself a bit desperate to know more about her. Two days we spent together on the couch last weekend and aside from every detail about each individual housewife on every Housewife show on air, she shared very little.
I did learn she’s a good nurse, if begrudgingly. She didn’t let me lift a finger after the mug debacle in the kitchen. One look at her totally undone, no make up, tight nipples visible through that shirt, I lost the ability to function.
Bloody embarrassing.
With little teasing, she put on a sweatshirt and shooed me out of the kitchen.
She was on top of my meds like she’d maybe made a spreadsheet and a set of alarms. Actually, not maybe.
I’m sure she did. She got me water, tea, food and hot and cold compresses with only pretend irritation.
In fact, I think she enjoyed taking care of me.
And, shockingly, I enjoyed sitting still for two days. Mostly to hear her scathing commentary on anything and everything that came on the screen in front of us. I don’t think she used the same insult twice.
When she stood up and started pacing to explain some conspiracy between a famous actress and her on-screen counterpart who also directed the film, and how the whole film let down some entire fandom and drama upon drama, with beautiful, unaffected Janie somehow equally angry at all sides including the media and even the fans, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Neither could she, by the end of the saga.
We spend a good deal of our time together laughing, actually. And not always at my expense.
But to finally hear something about her childhood, her past, I’m eager. So, I keep my eyes squarely on the road.
“Why?” She repeats back to me.
“Well, I’ve always thought growing up in a small town would be idyllic. Safe, cozy, lots of people to know you, help you if you need it.”
She snorts, “The know you part, for sure. But that means they also knew every time my crazy mother breezed into town like a freaking category five hurricane.”
“She couldn’t have been that—”
“She’d steal from the general store, Ben.”
Ben.
“Actually?”
“Yes! And then try to blame Gran!”
My eyes go wide as I glance over and she goes on, “Yes! Sometimes she’d have a new boyfriend with her, sometimes she’d hook up with someone in town.
She was unbelievably pretty but just as wild.
And I mean actually unwell. Gran tried to get her help, meds for bipolar disorder probably, among other things.
And she offered to get Mom into rehab with money she didn’t have, only for Mom to try and paint Gran as the bad guy.
Saying Gran was keeping Jack and I away, crap like that.
Then after Hurricane Jacqueline finally left town, there were always whispers and side-eyes about the three of us she left in her wake. It…it sucked.”
“I’m sorry.” I put my hand over hers on the center console and she startles, but doesn’t pull away.
“Jack and I were so ready to get out of this town. So we did. We just left Gran and barely looked back and now,” her voice cracks.
I don’t push her to finish her sentence. I twist my hand so I can link my fingers through hers. She doesn’t flinch. In fact, she tightens her hold on my fingers for a beat.
She’s about to pull away, to be embarrassed, but I don’t let her.
“Don’t you think it would make you feel a bit better about it all if we, you know, made out?”
“Aaaand we’re done here.” She lets go in pretend anger.
“Just a little bit, kissing only.”
“Park right there, perv.” she huffs, smiling.
“Actually, forget kissing, you reeeally need to be comforted.” I put the car in park and look directly at her unbelievable tits. “Second base. Final offer.”
“I’m getting out now.”
“I’m watching you go!” She laughs, hard.
Score one for me. Let’s see how many points I can rack up tonight.