by Sky Corgan
“It was like having a movie star in my apartment,” she confessed. “He's so handsome.”
“Pfft. Pampered bitches like that usually are. They get their hair and makeup done like women. Jen needs a real man.”
“He wasn't any different than you,” I said, my tone dipping a bit.
“Of course he is. I work for everything I have. He just sits atop his high tower and has it handed to him. Plus, I don't have women throwing themselves at my feet. Lucky bastard gets to bang a different girl every day of the week.”
“He wasn't banging anyone when I quit,” I told them.
“That's because he was holding out for you,” Mandy insisted.
“Not likely.”
“You should call him.”
“Are you nuts?!”
“No, I'm drunk,” she confessed with a titter. “Here, let me have your phone. I'll call him.” Mandy reached across the table, but I made no attempt to move, clutching my phone tightly in hand.
“I don't have his number anymore,” I lied.
“Well you suck. Who would throw away Jack Kemble's phone number?”
“Someone who doesn't want anything to do with the rich piece of shit anymore.” Eric sounded jealous.
“He wasn't that bad,” I said.
“You sure made him sound bad.”
I had, hadn't I? Evil Jack Kemble, who helping me fix my flat tire, who gave me a job when no one else would, who bought me an entire new wardrobe because I was too poor to afford even a few outfits, who took me to business trips, allowing me to see and experience the world as I never had before, and who was sweet enough to try to romance me when nothing else seemed to work to get my attention. What had I done? This man had given me more chances and opportunities than anyone, and I had been a complete selfish brat and thrown it all away because the one thing he wanted from me I didn't want to give without having more attached to it. Where else would I get the opportunities I had been given with Syngex? No where. That's where.
“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath, my good mood taking a nosedive like a lemming off a cliff. The bottom of the bottle was calling me again, and I was falling, falling oh so hard.
“That's all over. You have me now. You don't need that jerk.” Eric nudged my leg under the table.
“Well guys, I need to get going. I stayed out way later than I had planned,” Mandy said, scooting out of the booth.
“Aw. Don't go,” I begged, not wanting to be left alone with Eric.
“Sorry. I have to.”
My eyes followed her out the door, wishing my body was as well.
“It's getting late. We should call it a night,” I told Eric, giving him a hopeful look.
“Bah. Don't tell me you're tired already. It's Friday night. Everyone else may have had their excuses, but I know you have no good reason not to stay and drink with me.” Unfortunately, he was right. Living with Eric made it impossible to lie to him. I had no choice but to stay. “I really don't understand what's so great about that Jack Kemble guy,” he commented, still stewing over it.
“Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?”
“Yeah. It's a four-letter word, after all,” Eric agreed.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I realized.
“I'm not stopping you.” He threw up his hands. “But before you go, what do you want to drink?”
“I'll take a bloody mary,” I replied as I slid out of the booth, thinking of the bloody mary that Jack had made me in his mansion. My mind was back obsessing over him again, and the fact that there was a line to the bathroom didn't make it any better. What was he doing right now, I wondered? Was he at a party? Maybe sleeping with some other girl? The thought was painful.
Absentmindedly, I scrolled down the list of contacts in my phone. Jack Kemble Cell Phone. No, I definitely hadn't deleted it. But why had I kept it? This was one memento that couldn't go in my pile. Then again, I supposed I could always write it down on a piece of paper and shove it into the envelope that my Masked Ball ticket came in.
A curious thought passed through my mind. What would happen if I dialed the number? Would he pick up, or would he ignore me as I had ignored his calls dozens of times before? Whatever the answer would have been, I wasn't brave enough to call him.
Patience wasn't one of my virtues, and the line was moving at a snail's pace. In exasperation, I looked several girls past me toward the front. Did someone accidentally flush themselves? It sure seemed like it.
Despite my annoyance though, my mind kept drifting back to Jack Kemble. I did a lot of stupid things when I was drunk. Would it hurt to do one more? Out of sheer boredom and curiosity, I sent Jack a text. It simply said, “I'm at Rudy's Bar & Grill.” Then I shut off my phone, half from embarrassment and half because I didn't want my feelings to get hurt if he didn't respond. I could check my messages in the morning, if he left any. At best, I was expecting a “Who is this?” response, in which case, I would just delete it and go about my business.
It felt like another thirty minutes had passed before I was finally able to use the bathroom and make it back to where Eric was sitting. He must have gotten tired of waiting too, because he had drunk both his beer and my bloody mary.
I gave the empty glass a sarcastic glare. “Couldn't wait for me, huh?”
“You were taking forever. I thought I was going to have to call search and rescue.”
“I thought they were going to have to call search and rescue for some of the girls in front of me. I'll never understand why it takes some women so long to use the bathroom.”
“You and me both.”
Eric ordered us another round of drinks and we drank and drank and drank. Soon, my text to Jack Kemble was forgotten. We talked about stupid stuff and laughed until our sides hurt. Then we drank some more.
It wasn't long before the night began to fade, my memories coming in spurts. One minute, Eric and I were laughing about an incident from college. The next minute, he was in the booth beside me with his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I was uncomfortable, but I did my best not to show it. Then Eric was whispering sweet nothings into my ear, telling me how he loved me and wanted to be with me. It had to be the alcohol talking, or maybe it wasn't. Either way, the feeling wasn't reciprocated, and I tried to tell him that as gently as possible. The mood soured a bit. We were stumbling outside. In a moment of drunken passion, Eric grabbed me by the wrists, forcing me up against the wall while his mouth assaulted mine. I struggled and said, “No.” For a split second, I was desperately afraid, but we were in public, so I knew he wouldn't take things too far. Then I thought I saw Jack, but I didn't know how or why. Words were exchanged. I was throwing up. Someone was yelling. And then the world went black.
The morning sun was an unpleasant sight, streaming through the window to wake me up. Reflexively, my hand groped for a pillow to cover my face with but instead landed on hard naked flesh. There was a man laying beside me, and I didn't know who it was. My breath hitched in panic. Had I given in to Eric?
Cautiously, I turned my head to see who I was laying with. A mess of dark disheveled hair peeked up from under the comforter. It took one look at my surroundings to recognize the room I was in—Jack Kemble's bedroom. And the person laying beside me was none other than the man himself. But why?
It was then I realized I was naked, though I couldn't tell if he was or not. Last time we had been in bed together, he had slept with his boxers on, and I wasn't about to look to see if he was wearing them.
The room was spinning beyond control, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my stomach gave up its contents. Desperately, I crawled to the side of the bed, but as soon as I was about to set my foot down, I saw the bucket. Instinctively, I bent to retch into it. The vomiting came on sudden and violent, and there was no hope that I could be quiet enough not to wake Jack up. My entire body ached from the effort, my stomach and throat burning having already expelled so much. The bucket had been half full before I added to it. Somehow I didn't
remember waking up in the middle of the night to vomit.
Before I even knew what was happening, Jack was kneeling behind me, holding my hair out of my face. By the time I finished, I was breathless. I crawled back a bit, and he made way for me to lay down. He disappeared from my line of sight for a moment only to return with a wet washcloth, wiping the sweat from my brow and the bile from the sides of my mouth. I looked up at Jack in confusion and embarrassment, but I felt too sick to talk, so I just groaned instead.
“Shhh, it's alright,” he told me. “I'll take care of you.”
“What happened?” I coughed out, turning to retch again. Jack was wearing boxers, I realized, though I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed about it.
When I finished coughing up a whole lot of nothing and rested myself back on the bed, he said, “You had a bit too much to drink last night.”
“That's the understatement of the year.”
“You should rest today.”
I wanted to say that I needed to go home, but in truth, I really didn't want to go home. Vaguely, I remembered something happening with Eric—something not good, though I was too afraid to ask about it. Most of the night after Mandy had left was a mystery to me.
I slept off and on all day, and Jack was always there to tend to my needs when I awoke. He helped me take down water when I thought I could stomach it, then fed me dinner in bed later in the afternoon. Finally, when the world had stopped spinning, and I felt like I could sit up for more than five minutes without vomiting, I mustered up the courage to ask what had happened.
“You don't remember any of it?” Jack didn't sound surprised.
“Most of the night's a blur,” I confessed. “I definitely don't remember how I got here.”
“You sent me a text from the bar. I replied, and when you didn't respond, I thought something was wrong, so I came looking for you. Some guy was kissing you outside the bar. It looked like he was forcing himself on you, so I stepped in. He claimed to be your boyfriend, but all you kept repeating was no, so I brought you back here. I'd ask who he was, but it's none of my business.”
“He was a very aggressive friend. Not my boyfriend,” I insisted. “We didn't? I mean, me and you?”
“Oh, no. You threw up all over yourself, so I took your clothes off and had them washed. And I wanted to stay next to you in case you needed me in the middle of the night, which you did, several times.” He eyed the fresh vomit bucket he had set down for me. The previous one had filled the room with the lovely aroma of the night before. I felt bad that Jack had to sit there and smell it.
“I really appreciate you taking care of me,” I replied shyly. “In truth, I didn't think you'd recognize my number.”
“Then why text me?”
My cheeks flushed. “Because I was drunk . . . and thinking of you.”
“Mandy told me you moved.”
“I did. I couldn't afford to stay with her any longer since I quit working at Syngex. She didn't deserve the heat from her father over me not paying rent.”
“You didn't have to leave, you know.”
“Yes, I did.” I sighed. “That last night I was here, things were weird. I was getting tired of all the awkwardness at the office. I couldn't do it anymore. I'm sorry.”
“It didn't have to be awkward.”
“It would have been. I'm not like those other girls. I can't just sleep with my boss and pretend nothing happened. Maybe they're wired to operate like that, but I'm not. You should know by now I'm not the most stable person. My mind gets the better of me at times and—“
“You should rest,” Jack cut me off.
“Yeah,” I agreed, feeling small and mouse-like. He obviously didn't want to talk about it—was upset I had quit but too nice to throw me out of his house.
We lazied around for the rest of the evening. I could tell Jack was trying to force me to sleep, but it wasn't working. He laid beside me reading a book on his Kindle, ignoring me, for the most part. Occasionally, I'd let my eyes crawl over the tight muscles of his stomach, soaking him in and writing my own naughty story in my head. Not that I could act on my desires. I was still too sick and weak. He wasn't interested anyway, I thought sadly.
When it became apparent that I wasn't going back to sleep, Jack made me take a shower while he changed the sheets on the bed and sprayed the room with air freshener. By that time, I had quit vomiting, so my puke bucket could be removed.
I slipped my freshly laundered panties and bra on and crawled back in bed beside Jack, not much caring what he saw of me anymore. After all, he had already seen me naked, so what did it matter. As if nothing had happened, he turned over onto his side and went to sleep. I, on the other hand, was wide awake thanks to slumbering the whole day through, so I laid there and watched Jack breath and thought about what an angel he was. How many men would come to my rescue off of just a text message with no further information? He had slept beside me despite my stench and woken up every time I had just to make sure I didn't vomit on myself. These were things he didn't have to do. I was no one to him. But he did it anyway. Why? Was he just being a good friend? Was Jack Kemble my friend? It was a strange thought.
The next morning, we rolled out of bed together, and I joined him downstairs for breakfast. Sergio, the chef, looked over-the-top in his tall toque and white double-breasted jacket. I couldn't help but grin as he made us breakfast with the flare of a hibachi grill, tossing our eggs in the air to flip them. Jack gave me a queer look when I clapped after Sergio sliced a tomato in thin air without spilling a single seed.
“What, he's like Fruit Ninja,” I commented, wide-eyed with wonder.
“He likes to show off when I have guests,” Jack whispered.
To that, Sergio only grinned.
After breakfast, I checked my cell phone to find half a dozen text messages and voice mail from Eric. All of them sounded angry, though he made no indication that he wanted me to move out, which I was thankful for. Somehow, I would have to patch up things between us, so I could stay. Otherwise, I'd end up living back with my parents, which was something I really didn't want to do.
“I hope I didn't piss your friend off too badly,” Jack said, looking over my shoulder.
“He wasn't a fan of yours to begin with,” I admitted.
“Why not? Did you tell him what a horrible monster I am?” He smirked.
“No. I never told him you were a monster.” Though I had said some other choice words.
“Or maybe you told him about my womanizing ways. He probably thought I whisked you off to have my way with you.”
“Probably more something like that,” I laughed.
“Well, he'll be pleased to know I returned you unharmed and with your maidenhood intact."
“Pfft. Maidenhood.”
“What, you're not a maid? I'm shocked, my lady,” he said playfully.
“You're silly.” I grinned, though it wasn't long before my smile sulked at the realization I had to go home soon. What would happen after I left? Would I ever see Jack again?
My stomach felt sick as he walked me to the door with my things, though it wasn't from the hangover. While I still wasn't completely better, this illness was more from nervousness. Eric would surely be mad that I hadn't contacted him all weekend. And I was worried about what would happen between Jack and I, even though I knew I shouldn't be. There was a strange desperation inside me to cling to these moments with him for as long as I could. It was a stupid thing to want after all I had put him through. I had been nothing but trouble since Jack laid eyes on me. Hell, he was probably secretly happy to be getting rid of me.
“Thanks . . . for everything,” I told him as we stood in the doorway. “I don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me. I feel like I've really made a mess of things.”
“Don't worry about it.” Jack reached up to brush a strand of hair away from my face, and I leaned into his touch. The warmth of his skin graced my cheek for but a second before he moved his hand, and o
ur eyes locked in a way they never had before.
As if we were in sync for the first time ever, Jack bent down while I went onto my tip-toes. It felt like my heart might explode, and then our lips collided, and my entire body flooded with warmth in one climatic moment of emotion and passion. Our mouths moved together hungrily, exploring and tasting and caressing. Jack's hands gently found my hips, while mine curled into the back of his hair, pulling him to me. This is what I want. This is what I've secretly wanted forever.
Before we had even broken free of the kiss, we were clawing at each other's clothing. Subtleties were lost as I aggressively pulled Jack's shirt over his head, and he ripped the front of my blouse open, burying his face between my breasts while I pressed them up against him, tilting my head and moaning out my pleasure. Without even looking at where he was going, Jack guided me back against one of the sofas in his formal living room. I fumbled with his zipper, pulling his hot pulsing sex from his pants. For a moment, I thought of sinking to my knees, but Jack seemed to have other plans. He hoisted one of my legs over his hip and tugged my panties aside, taking only the briefest moment to put on a condom before he plunged deep into my welcoming wetness. I gasped as he entered me, shuddering slightly from the sudden intrusion. He was bigger than I had imagined, and it hurt a little, but I knew I could bear it.
I panted as Jack's mouth nipped at my collarbone and bra for a moment before he forced one of my cups down, exposing a heavy breast. His tongue skillfully painted around my thickened nipple before he sucked and tugged on it, sending shivers straight to my sweet spot. My back arched as he pressed deep into me, and I worried we might move the couch. Jack didn't seem to care though. All that mattered was us.
I held on for the ride, listening to his heavy breathing, and moaning out my encouragement. It wasn't long before Jack was spent. His body tensed up against me, and I knew it was over, though I didn't want it to be. I could have gone on forever—wanted to go on forever.
Jack's mouth found mine as he began to back up, but I grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into me once more, feeling his manhood spearing my depths. I groaned before attacking his lips with heated kisses, worshiping his face.
