by Helena Maeve
When he smiled, the corners of his lips barely twitched up. It seemed to take a great deal of effort to manage even that much. This was obviously a sore spot for him. Jackie was beginning to regret ever prying. “I know plenty of people in the business who get married and have families. For me, though, it’s been an obstacle. So when a pretty brunette sends me an email saying she and her boy toy love my work, what am I supposed to say?” He snorted. “I’m easy to flatter, sweet pea.”
What you are, Jackie thought, is lonely. She kept the theory to herself, biting back an unbidden flash of empathy before it swelled into something more.
“You want to see a movie?” She had counted on meeting him for coffee, maybe a Danish, not a day’s loitering around Rotterdam while Marten was at work. And yet she couldn’t help but feel like she was using him if she only met with him when it suited her.
Tony seemed as taken aback as she felt, so Jackie powered right on by adding, “There’s a shitty romantic comedy playing at the Wolff. We can make the matinee if you want…” She gave him the option, though she only half expected him to take her up on it.
One thing Jackie was fast beginning to realise about Tony was this—he never said no to strange and new experiences. Thanks to this daredevil streak of his, they found themselves slipping out of the theatre some three hours and much popcorn later. The movie had been as terrible as anticipated, but being a matinee on a Saturday, the cinema had been blissfully empty, leaving ample room for their sniggers and mocking commentary.
Tony brushed a few stray kernels of popcorn off Jackie’s sweater and shook his head. “I can’t believe you made me sit through that.”
“Oh, please, I saw you tear up at the end.”
“What can I say?” He laughed. “I’m a sucker for all that true love bullshit and lovers riding off into the sunset together.”
“Really?” Jackie quipped, holding the heavy metal door open for Tony to step through. “And how is that working out for you?” It took her a moment to realise how callous it was to bring up the very thing he’d said made him unhappy. She might have blamed it on the movie, but it had been a comedy, not a death metal record played backwards. It hadn’t even had any fictional powers of persuasion.
The old-fashioned panels overhead announced the next Big Blockbuster in blocky letters. Their light shot shadows over Tony’s face. “I’m a believer,” he answered, reaching his hand up to touch her hair.
Jackie felt her breath catch, thinking he was going to lean in for a kiss, but Tony only brushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Oh…”
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Tony said, misunderstanding. “I’m not going to burst into crocodile tears and ruin your evening. You and the birthday boy are in perfectly safe hands.” It hadn’t even crossed her mind. Their evening plans were going to be a little challenging to set in motion, yes, but the more Jackie got to know Tony, the less she found she could think of him as just another prop.
She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something along these lines or apologise or call the whole thing off, when Tony announced that he was feeling ravenous. “What do you say to lunch, lovely? My treat.” He had already bought her coffee this morning and, while admittedly Jackie didn’t know what adult-movie stars earned per film, she couldn’t imagine it made for a lavish lifestyle.
“Okay,” she said, thinking of splitting the bill when the time came. “But if you keep being this nice I’m going to start suspecting you of ulterior motives.”
Tony chuckled warmly. “I hope you do.”
He didn’t reach for her hand, but when her fingers brushed against his, he tilted his palm just enough so that Jackie could grip his. It unnerved her to find his hands were like Marten’s—broad and warm and safe. Just because of that stray, unearned intimacy, guilt swarmed in her belly like buzzing bees all the way through their lunch in a pizzeria a few blocks from the cinema.
All attempts to tell herself she needed to be comfortable with this man before she took him to her bed only made her feel worse—she already felt comfortable in Tony’s presence. How much of that, though, was still linked to Marten’s fete and wanting to do something nice for her boyfriend and how much was just pure, selfish lust? She had watched Tony screw other men and women on countless occasions. Marten had joined her sometimes and stroked her pussy as they had listened to Tony’s moans straddle that precious line between pleasure and pain. She was lucky in that she had a boyfriend who wasn’t put off by the sight of another man’s cock—if anything it seemed like the moments when Tony was on the receiving end only made Marten breathe a little faster. But enjoying something on a screen was very different from enjoying that experience in the real world.
Tony seemed to catch on to her silence after a while. “Are you worried about how he’ll react?” he pressed her, swirling the ice cubes in his glass with a straw. Jackie had watched him order, wondering at which point he’d break out the Weight Watchers calorie chart—for all that he was built lean with muscle and very little fat, Tony didn’t exactly skimp on carbs or fast sugars. He ate well and drank two Cokes to Jackie’s solitary one. For dessert, he had chosen an ice cream. Jackie had already been too full up with pizza to follow him down the path of sugary nirvana.
“Have you ever done something like this before?” she asked, bypassing the question as best she could. “Not on film, I mean, just…” She already had her answer as far as his on-screen track record. There was more than one scene that came to mind—of Tony sandwiched between two writhing bodies, his cock filling up the screen as one of his partners dipped her head to lick up the glistening shaft, of Tony bound and gagged while another man hovered behind him, just barely in frame, and Jackie squirmed a little in her seat at the vivid memory.
Across from her, Tony smirked a little. “There isn’t a lot I’ve done on film that I haven’t done in my own time. It’s a pretty bad idea to go into a job like this if you’re inexperienced.” He leant back, seat creaking as he rearranged his long legs. One of his feet bumped Jackie’s. Tony didn’t acknowledge it or apologise. “Not for a long time” was what he said in the end, on the subject of threesomes. “In my experience, it’s a lot of work trying to set one up without bruising egos…which isn’t to say it can’t be done. You’re already in luck with your guy. He swings both ways, you said?”
Jackie nodded. She didn’t regret spilling the beans on that subject anymore.
“There’s nothing worse than a bloke who freaks out when he feels another guy’s cock anywhere close to his. Gay panic,” Tony explained, making a face. “I try to steer well clear of those types.” It made Jackie wonder how he’d come to the conclusion that said anxious specimens were best avoided. Tony certainly didn’t look like he couldn’t handle himself in a fight, but things happened. People reacted badly when they felt threatened, however unjustly. There were few things uglier than violence fanned by fear.
She thought it best to change the subject, “I should get home. Marten said he’d be back from the office around lunch.” And though she hadn’t had a call or a message from him, she chose to be optimistic. “I’ll call to let you know how things stand.”
Tony ended up covering their bill, having refused to hear any talk of splitting the expense. “Next time,” he said, “it’s on you.” They parted ways outside the restaurant and again that brief, slightly awkward moment of indecision plagued Jackie’s thoughts as she wondered if she ought to have kissed his cheek goodbye or shaken his hand.
In the end, they did neither, only walked away from each other like complete strangers.
Jackie considered waiting for the bus, but she felt she needed a walk even more. Her journey took her past a Russian church gleaming white against a backdrop of stubbornly green leaves, and a lonely Coop Himmelblau sculpture perching long-legged and lonely-looking only a little farther. By the time she reached home, her feet were aching more than a little and her chest felt hollow with so many icy inhales.
Her key twisted in the door, but only
once.
“Oh—” Marten, she realised suddenly, must have got home already.
“In here,” he called, and Jackie stepped into the apartment to find him sitting grim-faced on the living room couch.
The last time he’d looked so despondent, he had only just been told his grandmother had passed away. Jackie nudged the door shut behind her, heart pounding viciously in her chest. “What happened? What’s wrong?” She considered the possible suspects—work, his boss, something to do with his family or hers. Any one of their friends, here and in the US.
“I’m going to ask you something,” Marten said, speaking slow and careful, as if picking out each word in part, “and I want you to be honest with me.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean to.” She watched Marten rubbed deliberately at his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Are you seeing someone else?”
The floor dropped from under Jackie’s feet. “What?”
“I’m not going to…cause a scene. I just want to know. Are you seeing someone else?” His eyes were pleading.
All Jackie could think of to say was, “Are you out of your mind?” A question for a question, neither of them to be answered in the affirmative. “Of course not!”
Marten gave a sound almost akin to a sob. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jackie strode in, her boots tracking rain and city dirt all the way across the carpet into the living room, and dropped to her knees in front of him. She seized his wrists with a tight clutch of fingers. “Honey, of course I’m not—cheating on you. Where’s this coming from?”
How had she screwed up so badly that he’d think she was double-timing him? This was the place she wanted to be, with the one man she’d found she liked as much as a friend as she did as a lover. Someday, if the world didn’t implode and they didn’t run a good thing into the ground, she even hoped to have a family with him.
“I saw you,” Marten said and, though his eyes were damp, his voice was clear. He spoke because he wanted Jackie to understand. “I saw you today, with a man. You were holding hands.” He drew a sharp, wet breath, trying to shake off her hold. “You don’t have to lie—”
“Shut up. I’m not lying.” Her sense of righteous indignation was more offended at that accusation than the possibility that he’d think her capable of cheating. “Why didn’t you come say hi? We didn’t see you…”
“Jacqueline.” Ice slithered into his voice. He almost never used her full name unless he was well and truly angry. “I saw you two holding hands and looking pretty cosy. I know he’s not someone you work with—you haven’t mentioned any men from the office…” He tried to free his hands, but Jackie only gripped tighter.
She scoffed, “That’s because there aren’t that many. I work for a women’s fashion magazine.” But it wasn’t the point. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that Marten had seen her with Tony. She couldn’t deny it and still hold his trust. There was nothing for it—he had to know the truth. “You’ve gone and spoilt the surprise, but here goes—I wasn’t meeting with a man I’m having an affair with. I was setting up an affair. For us. For tonight.”
Marten opened his mouth to speak, only to fall short as her answer computed. His brow furrowed. “Setting up a—”
“Threesome,” Jackie clarified, nodding her head. “That was going to be my surprise present to you for the big three-oh.”
“You’re kidding.”
Jackie shook her head.
“You’re not kidding.”
“I can call it off,” Jackie said. “If you’re not okay with the idea, I can call it off. I only thought, after hearing you talk about it when we’re in bed together, that you might actually want to try it out once. But Tony is just a phone call away and he’s really very nice. I’m sure he won’t mind if I—”
Marten shook his head. “Wait, Tony? As in Tony Marling, the guy we’ve been…?”
“That’s the one.” Jackie didn’t know what to make of his remembering the films. Tony might have been among her favourites, but his work wasn’t the only thing they’d watched to get in the mood.
“I’d…” Marten said, coughing a little. “I’d like to meet him.” His cheeks were flushed red with more than residual angst.
Chapter Four
Jackie baulked a little. “You want to meet him. Now?” After everything you just said? She balanced awkwardly on her heels, rising into a half-crouch that felt like murder on her knees. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Marten nodded. “If that’s all it is…”
“Of course that’s all it is,” Jackie scoffed.
“Then I’d like to meet him.”
“It’s not that simple,” she protested. “He was supposed to come by later, and only if you were up for it.”
Marten rolled his shoulders into a shrug. “I don’t know… It feels like a pretty big step, to agree to sleep with a man my girlfriend picked out for me.” His accent was getting thicker, as was often the case when he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. “I’m trying to remember that I trust your judgement.”
“In everything but driving a car,” Jackie quipped.
“Yes and that’s only because you suffer from road anger…”
“Road rage,” she corrected softly. It was true, though. She wasn’t to be trusted behind the wheel. In every other aspect of their lives save for this one she could be calm and collected, a rational partner who didn’t lose her head at the slightest complication. But put her in a car and set her loose on fellow motorists and all bets were off. Everyone had a weak spot and driving was hers. Marten didn’t bring it up to be cruel.
Jackie plucked the phone from her handbag. “I’ll tell him that you know and that he’s welcome to stop by earlier than planned if he wants to. Does that sound okay?”
She looked up to find Marten nodding. “How… How did you get in touch with him? I mean, do you keep a shortlist?”
“Email.” Jackie smiled crookedly. It really was that simple. Tony didn’t try to hide behind anonymity and he had responded to her message with affable curiosity. After that, she told Marten, they had agreed to meet up and discuss what she had in mind for her boyfriend’s birthday. “Things evolved and… Here we are.”
Her phone shrilled in her hands.
“What does he say?” Marten asked, a little quieter, a little more subdued than he had been thus far.
Jackie arched a brow and held up the phone so he could see for himself.
See you in thirty minutes.
Tony’s bravura put Jackie’s hesitation in rather harsh perspective. Another man might have taken this opportunity to smell trouble and wash his hands of the whole sorry business. Not so with him. A skin flick movie star driven by a sense of honour, Jackie thought. Will wonders never cease?
“Oh.” Marten swallowed hard. “I guess I’d better shower…”
“Wait. You don’t mean we’re going through with it, do you?”
Jackie watched her boyfriend falter. “If it’s what you want.”
“It’s supposed to be what you want,” she pointed out. “It’s your birthday present, remember?” Albeit a lot less festive and fraught with a lot more anxiety than she’d anticipated. But perhaps that only meant she needed to adjust her expectations. Real life didn’t play out like a porno—there was no script, no soft, flattering lighting. No lecherous director giving pointers.
Actually, that last one wasn’t such a loss.
Jackie levered herself up and into Marten’s lap, her knees bracketing his thighs. “I’m game if you are.” Stealing Tony’s words made sense. He was already present in the room in spirit—but her kiss was all Jackie. “Get clean, birthday boy. I’ll uncork a bottle of wine.”
* * * *
It was still early afternoon when Tony rang their doorbell. Jackie hadn’t changed since they’d last seen each other, only tossed off her jacket and shoes and made a little effort to get her unruly curls under control. She was still jean-clad and a little antsy. T
he nerves couldn’t be helped.
Tony himself looked blissfully casual. “Hi,” he greeted as he stepped into the apartment. “That was a very cryptic message. Is everything—?” He noticed Marten standing a little farther away, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and jeans slung low on his hips, unbelted. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hello,” Marten said, striding forward with his hand outstretched. “I don’t know if I should apologise or if I should thank you for, uh, coming. This must be a little odd…”
“Not that odd, actually.” Tony pumped Marten’s fist in the broad clutch of his hand, shoulders hitching up a little as he derailed the unwarranted apology. “Your Jackie’s been very clear about what she wants.”
“Yes, about that—”
“Shall we have something to drink?” Jackie interjected weakly. Both men turned to look at her. “I’ve got a pretty passable French wine right here if anyone’s interested. The guy at the shop told me it goes well with game and poultry—”
“And threesomes?” Tony suggested.
“And minor heart attacks,” Jackie shot back. She opened her hands wide, interlacing her fingers. “Shut up, I’m nervous.”
Tony feigned confusion. “Oh, because of this?” And standing there, right before her eyes, he folded a hand around Marten’s neck and brought her boyfriend in for a kiss.
The hitch of Marten’s breath was audible all the way to where Jackie was standing, but Tony didn’t relent. He must have felt Marten’s hands rising to grasp his shirt, but since they weren’t pushing him away, he didn’t let go. Jackie watched their lips slide together chastely in soft, nipping kisses as Marten relaxed into the experience then, slowly, pulled back. Tony lightly caressed his nape with his fingers. “I don’t think there’s anything to be nervous about… Is there?” He kept his gaze stubbornly glued to Marten’s, giving the other man the fullness of his attention.
