28 BEN
BEN
“Where to now?” I ask Aiden as we board his company jet. He finally convinced me to look at some properties C.I. might want to acquire, either to add to our real estate portfolio or tear down for the land. Not really my department but he’s been on me about it for years.
“Miami,” he answers behind me.
“Brilliant.”
“Humid.”
We take our seats. I smile, he frowns. It's been our modus operandi in recent years.
“It’s one of the sexiest cities you sad sack, what’s wrong with you?” I study him and he rolls his eyes. Not nearly as cute as when Janelle does it. “You lonely? Maybe you need a wife too, mate.”
“What, so I can avoid her for a week like you’re doing?” I scoff but he glares right through my bullshit. “Must’ve had a hell of a fight for you to stay away from that woman for four days.”
“One, mind your tone. Two, you’ve been after me about these east coast properties for years.”
“Uh huh. Well, whatever is troubling you in paradise, I don’t have any advice.”
“I didn’t ask,” I say, sipping the scotch the flight attendant just left in front of me.
He sips his too, “No, but you’ve got that Ben Wants To Talk About It look.”
“That’s not a look.”
“It is, and I’m happy to listen to you whine but I’m shit at relationships.”
“True.”
“Of course, so were you, until now.” He says with a lift of his right brow. He might be onto us, that there’s something else going on with the marriage, but I’ll never confirm his suspicions. I do trust him, but I don’t want the grumpy lecture.
I shrug, “She’s different. I’m different with her. Hence, I put a ring on it.”
“And then ditched her as soon as you had a disagreement?”
I look away.
Because we didn’t have a row.
We had the best night of my life, then the best following afternoon. Janelle laughed but it was not an exaggeration. After weeks of fantasizing, agonizing, flirting around it. She was…more. Better. So responsive, eager, wanting. All sweet sounds and soft edges. Quite the contrast.
And we haven’t even properly shagged yet.
Still, it was everything. To feel her on my fingers, to see her totally at my mercy, to hear the noises and…I adjust in my seat and clear the mental images, lest I start to make my pants, Aiden and myself all very uncomfortable.
That’s why I had to flee. She made it clear she didn’t want…more. More is all I can think about. Tasting her again. Finally sliding into her tight heat. Bending her over, holding her up, in my bed. Against the window. In my shower.
Ugh.
I made the right call, leaving. After I’d returned to the city on Monday, I was about to drive home after a late meeting.
What’s an hour and a half between me and that mouth?
Those tits? Those legs. Even if she wouldn’t let me touch her.
I’d still get to pester her, make her smile.
I could feed her decent food, ask her questions, make an idiot of myself and watch those storm cloud eyes roll to hide a million feelings.
An hour and a half drive?
Nothing. I would drive it every damn night. Which is a real problem.
Aiden clears his throat, probably unused to me like this. All pensive and worried. Hell, I’m not used to me like this.
“We don’t see each other most weekdays. I work in the city or abroad and then go home to Juniper Falls on weekends.”
“And?”
“And it wasn’t a fight. We just…disagree.”
He drains his drink. “Again, have you seen your wife?”
“Watch it.”
He laughs, “Shit, you really do love her. In all our years, I’ve never seen you possessive, not once.” I chuckle too but it feels tight. He goes on, “I’m just saying. Who cares if you disagree? Or even if she’s actually wrong and you’re right? Just say you’re sorry so you can kiss and make up.”
“Hm,” I make a point of pulling out my phone and he drops the conversation, thankfully. Hard to explain the disagreement is that I want to have my filthy way with my contractual wife and she is content to wait until she’s “desperate.” What does that even mean?
Actually.
Wait.
That’s a good idea.
I open our thread.
Ben: Wifey, I have a proposition
Wifey: I’m going to go with “No.”
Ben: I’m going to ignore that because you will like this idea.
Wifey: ?
Ben: Don’t you think we should have some clear parameters around our…desperation?
Wifey: Yes, actually. I was just thinking about that.
Ben: Oh really. Was I shirtless in your thoughts?
Wifey: [eye roll emoji]
Ben: Even that emoji turns me on now.
Wifey: [vomiting emoji]
Ben: That one less so.
Wifey: Once a week.
My brain short circuits.
What?
Once a week? Is she saying I get to touch her once a week?
This just became the best day ever.
No, Ben. Be cool, stay calm.
Ben: Care to elaborate?
Wifey: You come home on the weekends, we get it out of our systems. Simple and straightforward. Ok?
Ben: Ok
Ben: And what if I find myself desperate on a Wednesday afternoon.
Wifey: It’s currently Wednesday afternoon.
Ben: Relax, I’m 30,000 feet in the air at the moment
Wifey: Oh
Ben: Of course there’s always sexting
Wifey: No.
Wifey: You’ll just have to survive with your hand M-F.
Ben: So, Saturdays, then?
Wifey: Yeah. Ok?
Ben: Ok
Wifey: You’re not going to somehow go overboard and make this weird?
Ben: [Saturday animated gif]
Ben: [Saturday dance animated gif]
Ben: [dog humping gif]
Wifey: And there it is.
Ben: Link: [ Saturday Night by Bay City Rollers]
Ben: Link: [ Saturday Night’s Alright by Elton John]
Ben: [Sat-ur-day Night! Animated Gif]
Wifey: UNSUBSCRIBE
Ben: SEE YOU SATURDAY
Ben: Also known as Cheeseburger Night
Ben: I updated the spreadsheet. You can’t fight the spreadsheet, love.
Wifey: We are going to have a discussion about all this gourmet food
Ben: After my meal, we can discuss whatever you’d like.
Wifey: You want to have cheeseburgers and then discuss cheeseburgers?
Ben: You. I want to have you first. Talk second.
Wifey: Thank you, though
Ben: For the mind-bending orgasm?
Wifey: FOR THE FOOD!
Ben: Please don’t shout in text messages, it’s a bit rude.
Wifey: I HATE YOU SO MUCH.
Ben: Hatred, the foundation of every great marriage.
[Wifey has muted the conversation]
_____
“They really do go all out, don’t they?” Aiden grumbles as we pass not the first or second but third massive inflatable turkey we’ve seen since driving from the small airport into the actual town Juniper Falls. Some yards have skipped the turkeys and already have lights and snowmen on display.
“They do. The inn is nice enough for a night, though, chin up.” I tell my cantankerous friend who is grounded overnight due to the ice.
Aiden sighs at me and Nigel agrees in the front. “I think I preferred you whiny to…whatever this is.”
“Happy?” I say.
He shakes his head, “That’s not it.”
Well, he’s not wrong. This is not just happiness. This is…extreme anticipation?
It. Is. Saturday.
Finally.
Janelle and I have texted back and forth all week long, as usual.
I’ve been annoying, she’s been annoyed, as usual.
There have been GIFs and eye rolls and all our normal go-tos.
But she sent me an unsolicited selfie. She asked me all about where I was, what I was doing, and, namely, who I was with.
We worked together on a new project, another C.I.
purchase whose brand was not up to par. She’s sent photos of her— much improved, you’re welcome —meals.
It’s just been…more.
Like she was dying for me to get to Juniper Falls as much as I was dying to get here.
I was supposed to land this morning but there was stupid weather in stupid New York.
Damned stupid city with its early snow. Happy first snow of the season my ass, just move the bloody ice off the tarmac so planes can land! Honestly!
“Well, whatever it is, I hope you get it out of your system.” Nigel says as we pull up to the house.
I can’t help but laugh at his choice of words as I get out, “I plan to.”
A look of understanding, and then disgust, passes over both their faces as I back away. I don’t bother to say goodbye. I know I look like a smug bastard. I feel like one. Janelle Rae Rollins Clark is inside this house right now waiting for me. I get to kiss her, explore her, push her to her limits.
So, yes, smug bastard, indeed.
I push through the front door, “Wifey! It’s Saturday!”
“Hello,” she drags the word out, walking toward me in… what? A nightie?
I…
I can’t look away from the tiny, black lace thing.
“Good God Almighty,” I mutter as she nears. I watch her legs, try to sneak a peek where the fabric just barely covers her underwear and then…damn, those tits. I can see through the fabric, two tight points just waiting for me.
Then I…
Oh.
“Janelle. You’re sick.”
“What? No, I’m fine,” She says, then sniffs. Her eyes are red and glassy, her nose and cheeks are pink. She tries to reach for me but I grab her wrist, then put my other hand to her head.
“You’re on bloody fire, have you taken your temperature?”
“I don’t have a thermometer, but—”
“Get in bed! Now!”
She shakes her head, “It’s Saturday.”
“It could be my last day on earth and I wouldn’t care, you need to be resting.” She starts to protest so I just grab her and lift, walking her through the house bridal style.
“I feel like that was an exaggeration,” she grumbles, but her head is resting on my chest without a fight. “Your last day, really?”
“Okay fine, if it were my last day alive, yes, I’d beg to have my way with you. I lied.”
“Knew it,” she answers, starting to chuckle but coughing, sounding horrible.
I shake my head, getting genuinely frustrated, “Have you been in bed? Until just now?” She doesn’t answer. “Janelle.”
“I was cleaning.”
“You were…what the bloody hell? Cleaning the house?”
“Yes, I get in the zone while I’m working and I can kinda become a slob if I don’t schedule a cleaning break and then I was too tired to—”