The Casual Rule

by AC Netzel

  I enthusiastically clap and holler along with the other spectators as we watch the runners cross the finish line. I’m so excited for him; I can barely contain my glee.

  “Yes!” I shout, thrusting my fist high up in the air as he crosses the finish line. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. A volunteer wraps a Mylar blanket around him. I’m bursting with pride. I know this was important to him. He worked so hard and he did it. He actually did it. He really can do anything.

  I aggressively push my way through the crowds over to the finish line where the runners are filing in to congratulate him. I can’t wait to surprise him, share in his special moment. I’m about ten feet away when I stop dead in my tracks.

  “Ben, Ben… over here!” I look to the opposite side of the finish line and see Cam-eel waving to him. He looks up, still panting, waves, and makes his way over to her on the side of the finish line. She wraps her arms around him with a big toothy grin. He’s grinning too. He doesn’t seem surprised in the least to see her here. Then it dawns on me… He knew she’d be here. He asked her to come, yet I was not invited to experience this important milestone with him.

  Telling.

  This is the bitter reminder of who I really am in Ben’s life, my pecking order.

  I’m the girl he fucks.

  That’s all I am. Sure, we have some laughs and fun when we’re together, but in the end that’s all I am. I shouldn’t have come. I’m investing myself in his real life. I need to take a step back.

  Slowly, I make my way out of the crowd, pulling my hat down halfway covering my face, wishing I were invisible. Defeated, I trudge my way back through the frigid streets of Brooklyn to catch a train home, hoping the earth opens up and swallows me.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s always maintained that they are just friends. I know he’s completely blind to her real intentions, but they are still friends. Today. Who knows what the future will bring.

  I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s not my competition. This isn’t a contest to see who gets Ben’s heart. The answer is easy.

  No one.

  Sure, he gives a girl a great time. I’m sure he likes me. But it’ll never be any more than that. Allie has told me this often enough and so has he, if I’m to be honest.

  I’m an idiot. How many times have I reminded myself that I don’t want a relationship? Why am I reminding myself at all? There is no competition. When we move on, whatever he does, he does. Whatever she does, she does. If they do it together….so be it.

  Although he deserves better.

  The subway is so damn loud but the ride gives me more time to think. I realize that my feelings of doubt have nothing to do with the status of my relationship with Ben. We’re exactly where we said we wanted to be. My problem is that bitch and I need to get over her.

  After the subway ride back to the Village, I grab my cell phone to see what Allie is up to. There’s a text waiting for me from Ben. I guess I didn’t hear my phone ping over the subway noise.

  *Finished. Wish you were here to see it.*

  My hand flies over my mouth in disbelief. I read the text two more times. He wishes I was there. I don’t want to appear like a stalker and tell him that I was at his race. Then left like a jealous coward when I saw him with Cam-eel.

  *Congratulations! I knew you could do it!*

  *Celebrate tonight? My place?*

  *Aren’t you tired?*

  *Exhausted. I’ll sleep this afternoon. Come.*

  *Okay. 7:00?*

  *Perfect. See you then.*

  ~o0o~

  Celebratory sex should be epic. The guy ran twenty-six miles, it’s the least I can do. I’m about to give him sex that will be engrained in his memory forever, all because he ran a race to benefit those who have a disease that takes away their memories. The irony’s not lost on me. I wonder if that makes me an unofficial ambassador for the charity. Great sex is a much better memento than a T-shirt with a charity logo. Not all contributions are monetary. It’s my good deed, sure to earn me some heaven points.

  I know he likes push-up bras and thongs. I rummage through the lingerie pile in my floordrobe and find my black satin push-up bra and matching thong. Once again, I marvel at how spectacular my breasts look. They’re so high up, practically touching my chin. That ought to get his motor running.

  I squeeze into my super tight skinny jeans. I have to jump up and down to shimmy them over my hips, suck in my stomach to zip them up and squat a few times to loosen up the denim. I need to lay off the cupcakes. I throw on a tight black T-shirt with a low-cut V neck. My breasts are peeking out. Correction, my breasts are bursting out. I look like a whore.

  Perfect.

  I call out to Allie who’s in her bedroom. “See you later, Al.”

  She peeks her head out the door and shouts back. “Or tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.” If I’m lucky.

  After stopping at the local liquor store for a bottle of chilled champagne that didn’t break my miniscule budget, I treat myself to a taxi ride to Ben’s place.

  ~o0o~

  “Miss Conti, good to see you again. Mr. Martin already called down.” The doorman tips his hat as he opens the door for me.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  As the elevator climbs up to the twentieth floor, I turn into a jittery mess. I can’t wait to see his expression when he sees what I have on under this coat. I can’t wait to wrap my legs around him and feel him inside of me. I can’t wait to see him.

  All the doubt I had earlier has dissipated. This is right. This is exactly how it should be: in the moment, spontaneous, carefree. I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.

  I walk up to apartment 2012, suck in a few deep breaths to calm myself, and knock on the door. The anticipation is building. Sex has never been so exciting … or satisfying. I feel so alive. I watch the doorknob turn, wondering if I should pounce on him the second I see him or make him wait and seduce him. The door opens and he looks utterly… exhausted.

  “Oh my God, Ben. You look awful. Have you slept at all?”

  “A little, come in.” He waves me into the apartment and closes the door.

  “I should leave,” I offer. He has dark circles under the darker circles under his eyes.

  “No, I’m fine. Stay,” he insists.

  “Okay, as long as you’re sure. I brought some champagne to celebrate.” I lift up the champagne bottle.

  “Thank you, that was sweet. Let’s sit on the couch.”

  We walk over to the couch together. I notice Ben wince as he walks.

  “What’s wrong? You’re wincing,” I ask while placing the champagne bottle down on a coaster on the coffee table.

  “My muscles are a little tight and fatigued. My feet are sore. It’s nothing.”

  “Your legs should be elevated. Put your feet up on the coffee table.”

  “Yeah, maybe for a little while.” In painfully slow motion, he lifts one leg at a time up onto the table in front of us. I’m horrified at what I see on his feet.

  “Ben, your feet have blisters. Some are broken. Have you put any antibacterial ointment on them?”

  “No, it hurt too much to walk over there.”

  “I’ll get it. Is it in your bathroom?”

  “Yes. Not the hallway bathroom, the bathroom in my bedroom. It’s okay. I’ll go.” He winces as he tries to get off the couch.

  “Just stay there. I’ll go. Keep your legs up.”

  “That’s something I’d say to you.” The guy is half dead and he’s flirting with me.

  I playfully punch his arm. “You’re an idiot. Don’t move.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

  I walk into the private bathroom off his bedroom. It’s like a picture out of an architectural magazine. A jacuzzi tub with a separate glass enclosed shower. Double sink with black cabinets and soft toffee colored walls. Beautiful.

  I open the medicine cabinet and find the tube of ointment immediately. I take th
e opportunity to spy through some of his medications. He knows I’m in his medicine cabinet, so it’s not truly snooping. Thank God, there’s only ordinary medicine cabinet finds, no red flags on the medications. I can cross off several possible diseases I don’t have to fear catching. Naturally everything is neatly lined up, in size order. Neat freak extraordinaire. I take the ointment and a box of bandages back to the living room.

  He’s sitting on the couch with his head tilted back and eyes closed. I sink down to the floor and take his right foot in my hand.

  “You don’t need to do this,” he says, opening one eye.

  “Yes I do. Be a good patient and sit back.”

  “You’re very bossy. I like it,” he says suggestively.

  I roll my eyes up to the ceiling. Men are an interesting breed. He’s dying in pain and coming on to me.

  “Relax,” I order.

  “I like your shirt,” he says, staring at my cleavage. That opened both eyes.

  “I thought you might.”

  He arches a sly brow. “Take it off,” he commands, jutting out his chin toward my shirt.

  “This is what you’re thinking about? My top off?” I ask, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Don’t you want a happy patient?” He tilts his head with a mischievous smirk.

  “I want a patient that can walk.”

  “Then take off your top.”

  “Nurse Julia says relax. I have ointment to apply.”

  “I’d rather Naughty Nurse Julia help me relax with her top off.”

  I sigh, exasperated by his one-track mind. “Will you let me take care of you if I take off my top?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” I pull my T-shirt off. I’m kneeling on the floor in my push-up bra and jeans. I don’t know what’s more ridiculous …him asking me to take off my top or me actually doing it.

  He exhales through his teeth. “Naughty Nurse Julia, you are fucking hot.”

  “Lay back, buddy. I’m here to tend to your feet.”

  “There’s more of me that needs tending.” He flexes his groin up toward me.

  I smile and laugh. “Very well. I’ll tend to one part of you at a time.”

  “If that’s the case, you should start with what needs the most care.” He looks suggestively down at the pup tent growing out from his sweatpants.

  “How can you have a hard-on now? Aren’t you exhausted?”

  “I’m game. You’ll just have to do all the work.”

  I shake my head. He should be half dead after running twenty-six miles. Only Ben would want sex when he can barely move.

  “Feet first.” I unscrew the cap of the ointment and carefully apply it to the blisters on his right foot. I look up at him. He’s clenching his teeth and flinching. I blow on each broken blister and apply a small bandage on each. By the time I finish with his left foot, he looks visibly relieved that it’s over.

  “Better?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “Have you eaten anything?” I ask.

  “I had a banana and an orange earlier. I’m sorry; I was going to order dinner up for us. Time got away from me.”

  “A few pieces of fruit aren’t enough for you. I’ll find something in your kitchen. You need carbs and protein.”

  “I’ll get it,” he offers.

  “Just sit there,” I insist. “I’ll be right back.”

  Grabbing the bottle of champagne, I walk into his kitchen. I open the refrigerator and marvel at it. It’s spotless. How the hell can someone have a refrigerator that has no spills and no rings where bottles once stood? This is not normal. There’s some pre-sliced turkey in the fridge and a loaf of bread on the counter. Multigrain. Naturally, he’s a health food freak too.

  “Is a turkey sandwich okay?” I call out.

  “Anything you make, I’ll eat.”

  Good, he’s hungry. I can’t believe he just ran a marathon and all he ate was a few pieces of fruit. Men have no clue how to take care of themselves.

  I put the champagne bottle in the refrigerator and take out the turkey, some mayo and lettuce. “Do you like mayonnaise?” I ask.

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  There’s a shock, the man eats mayo. There’s hope for him yet.

  I bring two sandwiches and two bottled waters I found chilling in the fridge back to the living room. Ben is slumped on the couch with his eyes closed. He straightens himself out when he hears me; his eyes stare directly at my chest. I almost forgot I was wearing just my bra.

  “Start eating or I’ll put my top back on,” I warn.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smirks, his eyes still focused on my chest.

  “You’re a perv, you know.”

  “I do.” He smiles slyly.

  “Oh, just eat,” I say, exasperated.

  ~o0o~

  After we’re done eating, I take a quick look at Ben. I can tell he’s hurting. He looks stiff and not the good kind of stiff I’m used to seeing.

  “Do your legs hurt?” I ask.

  “A bit.”

  “Did you ice your muscles?”

  “No. After Camille dropped me off, I took a quick shower and dropped dead on the couch.”

  “Oh, Camille was there?” I pretend I’m surprised at this information.

  “She gave me a ride home as a favor.”

  So, she was just his ride. I don’t know why, but I feel a little better about that. Besides, he sent me a text while he was with her. That has to mean something.

  “I see. You need to ice your muscles. Do you have ice packs?”

  “I don’t want to ice them.”

  “You really should. It will help with your recovery.”

  “I hate ice packs.” He crosses his arms and frowns like a five-year-old right before a temper tantrum. Men are such crybabies when it comes to anything uncomfortable.

  “Tell you what… Let me ice your legs and I’ll take off my jeans.”

  “No. I hate ice packs.”

  “I’m wearing a thong,” I tease, slipping my finger down my waistband and pulling up the elastic string.

  “Okay,” he answers instantly. Typical male, even in pain, he thinks with his dick.

  “It’ll be easier to do this on your bed. Can you walk over there?”

  “Of course I can.” He rolls his eyes, then stands and reaches down for the dinner plates.

  “I’ll take care of that. Take off your pants and get into bed.”

  “Naughty Nurse Julia, I like the way you think.” Slowly he walks to his bedroom. At the rate he’s going between his stiff muscles and the blisters on his feet, this could take a while.

  I take the plates and place them in the dishwasher and grab two ice packs from the freezer.

  When I get into Ben’s bedroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Lay down,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head. “Strip first,” he commands.

  “Seriously?”

  “No thong, no ice.”

  “Are you thirteen years old?” I ask, my hands planted firmly on my hips.

  “Occasionally. Now strip,” he orders, his voice stern.

  I slip off my shoes and shimmy out of my jeans. I can’t believe I have to do this in order for him to do what’s good for him. He’s very good at getting me undressed. “Satisfied?” I ask, holding out my arms.

  “Turn around.” He twirls his finger in a circle.

  “Fine.” I throw my hands in the air, surrendering to his indecent request and twirl around.

  “Naughty Nurse Julia has a fine ass.”

  I try to stop, but I can’t help but smile. “I’m glad you like it. Lay down. I’m going to ice your calves. I want hear about the race.”

  His eyes sparkle as he tells me about his run, yawning most of the way through his stories. He talks about a few things I’m clueless about, like splits, gel packs at an aid station and target zones. But I smile, nod and listen intently. I can see it gives him great pride to relive these moments.

  �
�I had intense calf cramps at mile twenty, fucking awful. I pushed through it— each step, each stride. That’s when I started making my deals with God.” He laughs. “I continued to make deals over the next six miles.” He pauses and looks down at me, his expression changing from humorous to serious. “I knew I had to finish. I didn’t want to disappoint my grandfather.” Our eyes lock. He smiles tenderly at me and I smile back. His words pull at my heartstrings.

  I remove the ice packs from his calves and gently massage his legs. “Better?” I ask.

  “Colder. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  I look down at the bed and blush. I don’t know what to say. I enjoyed taking care of him. I lay down next to him, pulling the blanket up over us. I lean on my hand, resting on my elbow and rake my fingernails through his hair.

  “Mmm, that feels nice.” He moans appreciatively, tilting his head back slightly into his pillow and closing his eyes.

  “So tell me about the end of the race. How did it feel to cross the finish line?”

  “Surreal… amazing.” He yawns, turns his head and looks at me with a sleepy smile. His eyes are watery from yawning so much. He looks absolutely adorable.

  “I should go and let you sleep,” I say.

  “No. Stay. I just need a few minutes to recharge.”

  “Ben, you’re exhausted.”

  “I’m okay,” he insists, but I know better.

  “All right, for a little while.”

  I continue to rake my nails through his soft hair. With each gentle stroke of my nails against his scalp, his breathing gets deeper and deeper. I peek over and he’s asleep. He even sleeps beautiful.

  “I’m very proud of you, Ben Martin,” I whisper in his ear. I reach across the bed and delicately kiss his soft lips. I scoot in close to him just to feel his warm body next to mine. I’ll lay here for just a few minutes, get dressed and go home.

  ~o0o~

  There’s a hand on my stomach.

  I open my eyes and see Ben’s arm draped across my waist. The sun is filtering through a small crack between the drapes; it’s obviously morning. Oh God, I fell asleep. It figures; my first sleepover with Ben, I’m half naked and he’s comatose. To top it off, no mind-blowing sex. Not exactly what I pictured.

  What do I do? Stay? Sneak away before he wakes up? He told me to stay, but I don’t think he meant all night…. Did he? I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do.