Screwing With Perfect

by Louisa Trent

  "I didn't?" His head throbbed. His face hurt. Blinking was agony. Despite the pain, his smile muscles flexed. "I do?"

  "Like a bear in hibernation. What a racket."

  His smile exploded. "I'll make it up to you, Kes. I promise."

  "I know you're good for it. And now that the grumpy look is wiped off your face, stay and have breakfast with me. I'm having a bowl of healthy oatmeal. But as I just returned from shopping, I also have all your favorites. I already put the boxes away inside the cabinet. There's Fruit Frisbees, Choco Choo Choo's, Peanutbutter Puffs, Marshmallow Clouds. There's a toy inside the box of Puffs. I think it's that plastic squirt ring you've been waiting for."

  "The red one?" At Kesley's nod, Drew jumped off his chair.

  "I duked it out with a twenty-something guy for it. I took him easy," she said, spooning gloppy oatmeal around her bowl.

  Tearing open the top of the cereal box, he reached inside the waxed bag interior. "Awesome!" He held up the red ring to show her. "Thanks, Kes. You're a peach!"

  Drew poured the chocolate stuff into his bowl first, following up with the primary-colored balls. Next, he poured on the milk.

  "Any time," Kesley said, watching him. "It was well worth the bloodshed. The twenty-something guy I beat-up? He gave me his phone number. Turns out he's a sub. As soon as I rid myself of my ignorance, I'm calling him."

  Like he was letting that happen!

  No Ted. No twenty-something submissive wimps. Kes told him he snored, which meant she loved him, though she wasn't aware of it yet. Unlike him who knew, had always known, he loved her. So what did he do about it?

  Over his spoon, Drew watched Kesley for some sign, some indication, of the same confused turmoil in her that raged within himself. But in her green checked summer dress with a big white collar, her arms and legs sun-kissed bare, her short brown hair neat and shiny, she looked just as composed, and determined, and sure of herself as she always did.

  Suddenly, keeping to the status quo didn't seem nearly as comforting as before. And he realized as he sat across the table from this beautiful, perfect, confident woman that if he didn't make a change, if he didn't move forward, she would move forward without him. She was strong enough to make the break and go after what she wanted, which was a mainstream future involving marriage and kids.

  Mainstream. He didn't even know what that was. Didn't even know if he could fake it. But if he couldn't pull that trick out of his hat, he'd lose her.

  At the thought of a future without Kesley, his appetite departed, leaving his favorite cereal to go mushy in the bowl.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was almost midnight when the trolley let Kesley off at the corner of her street. She started the short walk to her apartment deep in thought.

  After John Smith had missed one med appointment, Kesley had finally tracked him down. He was soliciting sex in a public park. Mainly because she was getting in his face, which interfered with his business in a very real sense, he promised to keep the make-up appointment she'd set up for him for the following morning.

  John was on the cusp. Right now, he could go either way; transition into the program or leave town. After doing all she could to convince him to come in off the streets, Kesley had left John to his customer. It was a fine line she walked between reaching out and nagging; too little advocacy and kids slipped through the cracks, too much pressure and kids stopped listening and tuned out.

  Kesley hadn't been home in three days, not even to change her clothes. Busy with John Smith and two other teens in crisis while dealing with the trickle-down repercussions of a slow economy, the budgetary crunch translating to cutbacks in services at The Shelter, she'd been handling not only her own caseload but overseeing uncovered emergencies. Consequently, she was still a virgin.

  And time was running out.

  Ted had left her a message on her apartment's answering machine--could they discuss setting up a date? Returning his call from work, she'd given him a resounding yes! She had no intention of letting a nice man slip through her fingers. The date might be the start of a promising new relationship and she intended to go for it. No more taking a pass on the future. She was a traditional woman with a traditional woman's aspirations. If admitting she wanted a husband and family was no longer fashionable, tough toenails. It worked for her.

  As Kesley made her way down the sidewalk under the city streetlights, an SUV pulled alongside her and stopped.

  "Get in," Drew called through the open passenger door.

  Ducking her head into the interior, she inhaled the unmistakable smell of new leather. "This isn't a rental, is it? You did it. You actually went out and bought a car! I don't believe this!"

  "I said get in." Leaning his big body to the right, Drew reached a long arm across the seat and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut afterwards. "From now on, if you're staying late at work, I pick you up. No more walking home alone at night from the trolley stop."

  Her pleasure at seeing him after a three-day absence quickly boiled to anger. Where had this lunacy come from? Why was he suddenly behaving crazed? He knew she could take care of herself!

  She kept her tone reasonable, used her professional voice, the one she never, ever used with Drew. "I always take the streetcar."

  "That was before we started making love."

  "Did I miss something? As far as I know, we haven't had sex yet." And so what if they had? Did making love suddenly turn a smart woman stupid? She could fend for herself!

  "I had my mouth on your mouth. I had my hand on your pussy. I tore off your panties. What do you call that?" he asked belligerently.

  "Foreplay. And I was the one who tore off my panties, so stop the breast-pounding. I never took you for the possessive type, Drew. Is this how you behave with all your women?"

  "No. Never. I'm never around long enough to get possessive with a woman. Sometimes I don't even know their names, never mind where they live or work, so picking them up anywhere afterwards is pretty much a moot point."

  "In less than two weeks, we'll be a moot point too," she tersely reminded him.

  "Let's stick to the present. As of right now, today, you belong to me and I belong to you. That was the deal."

  "I know what the deal was!" she said hotly. Professional and reasonable gone bye-bye.

  "Good. So take some time off from work so we can do this right."

  "I can't." But oh, she needed to.

  "Why not? Employees at The Shelter are entitled to a vacation the same as everyone else."

  "I can't get away right now. It's not a good time."

  "It's never a good time!" Drew's voice hitched a notch. "What's going on at work that requires you to sleep overnight?"

  "We're not talking about work, remember?"

  "You're avoiding me, Kes. You offered me your body and now you're backing out."

  "That's not so. I happen to have a date with Ted coming up, and I was only just thinking I needed to get on the stick and lose my virginity."

  "To do that, you need to get on my stick. For that to happen, you need to get with me in a bed."

  "That's vulgar."

  "That's real. I can't phone it in, Kes. I need to put it in. And we need to be together for that to happen. Have you changed your mind, decided Ted will be the first? Is that what this avoidance is all about?"

  "No! God, no! And as to Ted, we haven't even gone out yet. And even then, I intend to wait."

  "First week, Kes. That's when he'll want it."

  "Don't judge other men's sex habits by your own low standards."

  He laughed. "You are such a virgin, sweetheart."

  She sighed. That was one argument she couldn't win. So, she changed the subject. "How did you know I would be on that trolley?"

  "I didn't."

  She turned to him. "But..."

  He one-handed the steering wheel and reached for her shoulder. "I've been meeting all of them. You never called, never told me you were sleeping over at work, so I met them a
ll. For the past three days, starting at 6 p.m., I was here for every fucking one."

  "I'm sorry. I should have called. Frankly, I don't know why I didn't." She shook her head back and forth. Why hadn't she called? She knew he would worry. She should have called! Obviously, more than one person in this car had been acting out of character lately. Why?

  His hand dropped away and he cleared his throat. "I want to see you tonight."

  "You are seeing me tonight." She was so confused. Figuring out human motivation was what she did for a living, and yet she couldn't figure out her own. Or his. "I'm here, aren't I?"

  "I mean, see you as in have a date with you."

  It took her almost a full minute to comprehend the subtle nuance of the word "date." Her head bobbed up and down. "Oh! You want to have sex with me tonight." This, she understood. Drew wanted sex. Okay. "Why didn't you just come out and say so?"

  "The bed arrived today," he said shortly, looking straight ahead at the road. "It's all set up."

  She nodded. "Ah! The bed." But he was driving away from the apartment, not towards it. "Where are you taking me?"

  "I'm moving out of the apartment."

  "Pardon?"

  "I'm moving out of the apartment and into a house I've rented. I'm getting all new furniture, the works. I'm junking the stuff left over from my undergrad days."

  She was a remnant from his college days. Was he junking her, too? "You're renting an entire house?"

  "Four bedrooms. Three baths. Fenced-in yard. The house has been vacant for a while, tied up in probate. An estate settlement, that's why I'm renting. But when the house goes on the market, I'm there with my checkbook. The dumpster is at the apartment now. Before I leave on this next assignment, all the trash I've collected over the years will be gone."

  Including her, she supposed. "This is happening just so incredibly fast, Drew. There's a lot to absorb here. So many changes at once."

  "Here's another: this is my last consult away from home. I've decided to take on the local work, stay in New England, let my employees start doing the traveling. I'm tired of airports. Thus my need for the SUV."

  "You won't be away for weeks at a time?"

  "Plants need care, Kes. Can't care for them if I'm not around."

  "Exactly. I understand."

  "So--do you want to get started or not?"

  "I want to get started."

  "Good." He stared out the windshield.

  "Fine." She looked out the passenger window.

  In the frosty silence that ensued, Kesley examined her rumpled jeans, wrinkled shirt and grass-stained sneakers--the same clothes she'd worn the night before when she accompanied the streetworkers on their nightly rounds. Her first breakout sexual experience and not only was she dressed in stale clothes, but was also tired and stressed. On top of that, Drew was angry with her. He had never been angry with her, not in the ten years they'd known one another. Why now?

  "Do you want to talk, Drew?"

  "No," he grumbled. "Do you?"

  She sighed. "No. Talking isn't what I want. Let's just tune everything out and have sex."

  "It's not the best, you know."

  "What's not the best?"

  "Mindless sex. Not that I've ever had anything else. But my gut tells me, Kes, that there has to be more, you know?"

  "Yeah, I understand about wanting more."

  Drew cut the engine at the end of a street that abutted Jamaica Pond. They were still in the middle of Boston, yet the area had a rural feel to it. The houses were all well maintained, the grounds nicely landscaped with bushes and flowers and majestic trees. All had a picturesque view of the water. Kesley had always considered this part of Boston the best of all possible worlds, country living yet within close proximity to all the wonderful cultural opportunities the city had to offer, not to mention the area's convenience to area schools and hospitals. She'd told Drew many times that if she could afford the pricey real estate market, this locale is where she'd want to buy a house. Of course, on a social worker's salary she had little hope of owning property anywhere, never mind in this swanky area.

  "What a fabulous neighborhood," she said, still gawking out the window long after the engine was cut.

  "I'm glad you like it. Let's get out. This is it, the house."

  "You have your very own driveway!" she exclaimed as he opened the passenger door.

  "It's a double width, built for two cars. No more towing worries."

  Keying an arched oak door with a leaded window reminiscent of a medieval castle, Drew stepped inside the foyer, Kesley following. Why was Drew making such a big deal about a damn driveway? Why had he leased a luxury house? He didn't care about driveways. He didn't care where he lived.

  "The power hasn't been turned on yet," he explained as he struck a match, and a candle flared on the entryway windowsill. "And there's no place to sit. Only the bed."

  "The lack of a snoopy landlady more than makes up for the lack of furniture." She looked around the huge empty rooms. Gosh, she'd love to decorate all this empty space. Drew always teased her when she pored over home magazines, and now he'd gone and bought her dream house, and it was empty, just waiting to be given a personality. She could turn these vacant rooms into a warm and inviting home. "Would you be kind enough to direct me to the powder room, sir? I'd like to take a shower. First."

  The blush crept up on her. She hadn't expected to feel embarrassment. She talked about sensitive sexual issues all the time to the kids she counseled and never even blinked. Now that it was her en route to bed with a man, she felt bashful.

  "Right this way," Drew said, not bashful at all as he led her to the bathroom, setting the candle on top of the vanity sink--Drew with a vanity sink! "Clean towels to your left. And the toilet doesn't overflow."

  As he closed the door, she started to chuckle. Giddy with laughter, she stripped off her stale clothes, turned on the shower and stepped up and into the tub, shutting the glass enclosure after her.

  A quick shampoo and a scrub, and she toweled off. Fortunately, her hair was short, the style wash and wear. After brushing her teeth with some toothpaste applied to a finger, she was done.

  Having no robe, and thinking a towel was silly, she left the bathroom naked and carrying a candle.

  She bumped into Drew in the hall.

  "You didn't know your way to the bedroom, and I thought ... I thought ... I would show you the way. Good Lord, you're naked. And lovely. Lovely naked." Drew removed the candle from her hand and placed it on a nearby windowsill.

  "Shouldn't I be naked?" she had enough time to ask before Drew pulled her into his arms and his mouth sealed hers in a kiss of monumental proportions.

  Another hall. They seemed to have an affinity for narrow passages that connected rooms. Nothing in life is an accident. So what did making out in a hallway mean?

  And then Kesley couldn't think anymore, never mind analyze. She had all to do to hold onto Drew's shoulders and maintain her balance. Then she couldn't even do that. She felt so woozy.

  Drew, intuiting her dilemma, swept her up into his arms and carried her, presumably to his room, his kisses so full of raw power it was like riding the eye of a storm. Rather than pull back, rather than try to protect herself from the savagery of his kisses, she pulled his head down closer to hers, meeting his tongue with her own, eagerly running the tip over his teeth, the roof of his mouth, and everything in between.

  Gasping for air, she came up for a quick breath. "Oh, dear."

  He whispered against the corner of her mouth. "Are you sure you want this?"

  No need to collect her thoughts to answer that question. "Yes." She stroked his cheek. "Yes."

  After installing the candle on the nightstand, he placed her in the new bed, all made up, canopy in place.

  "Let me touch you." His arms hung rigidly at his sides.

  "Yes. Why are you waiting?"

  He made a hoarse sound, then was cupping a breast, the point of her nipple poking the center of his palm.
His enclosing fingers felt unlike anything she had ever felt before, his tenderness unexpected.

  Or maybe not. When had Drew's touch ever been anything less than gentle? When had he not given her his full consideration?

  The unexpectedness came from her own perceptions--or misconceptions. She had pegged Drew as an entirely unconventional man, and yet here they were in this lovely home in a neighborhood that would rival any peaceful oasis in suburbia, in a bedroom furnished with Williamsburg reproduction pieces. It didn't get much more traditional than that. Maybe she needed to revise her expectations of Drew, maybe she had him locked in a place he'd already left, only she hadn't taken the time to notice. She was moving on. Evidently, so was Drew. Without her.

  "Your breasts are perfectly round." His thumb pressed to the center of one. "So round and pretty. I noticed them the day we first met. I didn't want to stare. Didn't want you to think I was a creep."

  "You noticed my breasts the day we met?"

  "Oh, yeah," he answered, fondling the aforementioned, thumbs flicking across the hardened tips. "You were wearing a flowy peasant blouse thing. It was white with flowers at the neckline you had embroidered yourself, and I could make out your nipples under your bra. In your innocence, you didn't know that I could, that any man could. You were so nice and friendly, talking a mile a minute, and I felt bad for noticing. I quick dropped my eyes to the floor. But to do that, my gaze had to move past your crotch, and that set me wondering about your pussy. The jeans you had on were tight, you see, and I could make out the slight hollow at the in-seam. You kept gabbing about your courses, telling me you wanted to work with troubled kids, and here you were little older than a kid yourself."

  "You're only six months older than me!"

  "In life experience, I was years older than you, sweetheart. We come from two different places. I knew that, you didn't. Your thing was to help troubled teens and I admired you so much for that because my thing was to make a bundle of money."

  "By the looks of things, you succeeded."

  "Yeah, I did. So did you. We both got what we wanted, though they were two different things." His hand smoothed its way to her belly. "So sweet, and no clue to what I was thinking. So I turned away. I forget the excuse I used. But you tugged on my shirtsleeve and asked what was wrong in that direct way of yours. And what was I supposed to answer, sweetheart? Was I supposed to say, my brain was all wrapped up in your cunt? Was I supposed to tell you I wanted to fuck you? You would have been outraged. With good cause. You didn't understand where my mind was at. You still don't."