by Holly Stone
I scrubbed myself dry as if I could erase all the doubts and regrets that way, then stood and looked at myself in the mirror. My reflection gazed back with an expression as empty as I felt inside. I’d developed some lines around my eyes in the last year and a few streaks of grey which made me look more mature. I was a man on the outside but I felt like an uncertain teenager on the inside. It was as though my emotional maturity had been reversed by Adrianna and her betrayal and I’d been unable to move forward. I rubbed at the skin around my mouth, stubble rasping against my fingers, imagining myself as an older man with salt and pepper hair and deeper lines on my face. What would my life be like then if I didn’t try to move forward? Unmarried men in their forties were not seen as happily single out of choice, but as eternal playboys, or tragic figures with commitment issues. And who the fuck wants to be the only man in the room without kids to pass their good fortune on to? I didn’t want that to be that man.
I had to get my shit together.
In the morning I had a board meeting to attend and then a financial review. BGP was doing well. Over the last six years work had been my life, and to succeed in it was very important to me. But for the first time my success felt hollow when I realised that I didn’t have a single person in my life, family or friend, who I wanted to call to share the good news with. I’d made my rule to keep myself isolated from attachment but it felt empty to have so much and not being able to share it with someone special. Back in my office I pulled up Rebecca’s LinkedIn profile and looked at her picture. My hands itched to pick up the phone but I didn’t have her number. Her picture looked at me from the screen, expression thoughtful, and I imagined sharing my news with her. I knew she’d be interested and would ask me insightful questions. She was a clever girl with a good business brain and not afraid to put her point across. I was surprised to realise that I’d noticed those traits in her and to find that they were important to me. I’d been so driven by appearances in recent years that the shift in my thinking was startling.
About halfway through the morning, George called on my cell phone. We hadn’t spoken since his round of applause had caused Rebecca to bolt.
“Hey brother,” he said, sounding very cheerful.
“George,” I replied, tersely.
“Hey, you’re not still pissed at me for watching you get kinky with that British girl, are you?” He laughed, as he’d always done when we were kids, trying to make me look and feel small.
“I think I have a right to be,” I replied calmly, not wanting to show how riled I was. It would only have made him worse.
“I talked to mom and she said you went to London. Was it to see little Miss Submissive?”
“Fuck, George. Don’t call her that.”
“So it was. Man you must have it bad to go all that way to get laid. Isn’t there enough home-grown pussy for you to choose from?”
“All that education our parents funded and listen to you.”
“You know, I didn’t call you for abuse, Andrew.”
“Then stop trying to wind me up.”
“Where’s the fun in that! So you really did go to see her in London?”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“How'd it go?”
I thought about our day out and how much fun it had been to spend time with Rebecca. The sex had been intense but the bit I remembered most was coming inside her while she held me close and whispered soothing words in my ear. The memories of that day were great, up until I bolted. I was ashamed of that.
“It was good,” I said, but it sounded flat. George didn’t seem to notice though.
“Wow, bro. You seriously thinking about leaving your playboy days behind?”
“I don’t know, George. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. There’s just something about her.”
“Ah, the ‘something’.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Something’s are fucking dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous,” he said seriously, and I winced, thinking about the shit he’d been through in his own life. The Costner men had a rough time when it came to love.
“Are you okay?” I asked, remembering it had been him that called me.
“Yeah, fucking A,” he said in a ridiculously exaggerated accent.
“So, how come you’re calling me?”
“I don’t know. Just wanted to shoot the shit for a bit.” I imagined him shrugging and rubbing at the hair above his ear, the way he always did when he was stressed. I didn’t like that he was so far away. I knew from experience that being alone when you’re feeling low can be hazardous. It’s all too easy to give into temptations that do nothing to make you feel better in the long run.
“Well, I’m always available for that. Hey, you know I might be in Rhode Island on Friday. You around on the weekend if I come to New York?”
“Yeah. Saturday or Sunday?”
“Sunday, maybe. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay…and Andrew, you should try with that girl if you like her.”
“What about life being dangerous?”
“Fuck it, Andrew. It’s dangerous but it’s too damn short.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking about George’s girlfriend Bethany and how young she’d been when she died. “I’ll call you, okay?”
“Yeah, little brother,” he said and hung up.
REBECCA
I was feeling ridiculously nervous as I arrived at Heathrow Airport with my small wheelie suitcase handle clutched in my sweaty palm. It wasn’t like I was travelling out to America specifically to see Andrew but that’s how it felt and I still had no idea if he would come to the hotel as I’d suggested.
My company were obviously feeling sorry for me with two transatlantic trips in such close succession, so I’d been booked into Virgin Upper Class. I could really understand why rich people paid for the service. Who wouldn’t want to be picked up at their front door by a driver in a luxury car, transported to a special entrance to the airport, whisked through a designated security channel and then directly into the swankiest lounge you had ever seen? I’d arranged to have my hair trimmed and styled, which was all part of the complimentary service, and still had time for a delicious lunch complete with a glass of champagne. I should have been relaxed after such a pampering but I was on edge, feeling the sting of rejection before it had even happened.
During our last phone call Marnie had been frustrated with me. She’d said that when you can’t control things in life you just have to learn to accept whatever happens will be for the best in the long run. I tried some positive thinking while I watched the planes taking off on the runway outside. I imagined sitting in my hotel room, drinking a measure of whisky and hearing the door unlocking. Andrew comes into the room, looking pensive but happy to see me. He leans forward and kisses me softly. It was a nice fantasy but it didn’t feel real. The thing between Andrew and me was far from perfect. It was messy and raw and uncertain.
I was on a day flight so didn’t have any use for the flat bed, but I enjoyed the space and my own entertainment system featuring a good choice of films. I also liked the way the seats were configured meant I wasn’t sitting directly next to someone so small talk wasn’t required. When you have things on your mind, sometimes you just want to be able to dwell on them without interruption.
I arrived in Boston then took a connecting flight to Providence, arriving dead on time. Outside the airport, the company I was arriving to meet had arranged a car to collect me. The chauffeur was a large, round-faced man with the broadest grin and my name emblazoned on a small whiteboard. He insisted on pulling my small suitcase even though I was more than capable, and then settled me in the back seat for the drive to the hotel. It was early afternoon but would have been evening back home and I stifled a yawn, shutting my eyes against the bright sunshine. I had my meeting in the morning, and then I’d be back at the hotel just after lunch to wait on Andrew. I’d planned what to leave at reception for him and what I would wear. Meticulous planning had calmed my
nerves but, as I slid the key card into the door of my hotel room, they returned with full force.
ANDREW
It was Thursday at 5pm and I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do. I suspected Rebecca was already at the hotel but I hadn’t called to check. I was sitting at my desk but I hadn’t done anything productive for at least an hour. My PA, Barbara, would be going home soon and I thought I’d probably leave at the same time. As I was getting ready to pack up my briefcase, there was a soft tap at the door. When I called out ‘come in’, Barbara entered holding a large envelope. She looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot in her black flats. She was renowned for being a formidable woman so this behaviour was unusual. Her eyes darted from the envelope to me behind her new, thick-rimmed glasses that I still hadn’t gotten used to.
“What is it, Barbara?” I said, curious.
“I…I’m not sure how to say this,” she said, grasping the envelope with both hands.
“What?”
“Well, I was expecting you to ask me to arrange your travel plans,” she said, chewing her lip nervously.
“What travel plans?” I frowned and then realised what she was getting at. Barbara read all my emails except the ones marked with a high security classification. She’d read Rebecca’s email. “Oh, you mean to Rhode Island?”
She looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Well, yes.”
“I haven’t decided whether I’ll go.”
“I thought that might be the case,” she said, bringing the envelope up and hugging it to her chest. “This is awkward.”
It was, but I wasn’t going to show how uncomfortable I was at the idea of her knowing things about my personal life. Other than buying gifts for family birthdays and Christmas, I’d kept my PA away from anything non-business related. I was sure she was discreet but I didn’t like the idea of being anything but professional with her.
“It’s okay, Barbara. It’s your job to read my emails. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“It’s not that,” she said, taking a step forward but still looking as though she was holding something in her hands that might explode if she let it go.
“Well, what is it then?” I said, impatiently. Barbara was usually efficient and forthright and I found her new hesitancy annoying.
“I think I may have overstepped my role and I’m hoping you’re not going to be angry about it. I had Security run a risk assessment on…Whisky Rose.” She braced herself for my anger, holding out the envelope and stepping backwards when I had taken hold of it.
“You did what?”
“When I read the email I put two and two together. I expected you to tell me to adjust your diary immediately but when you didn’t I was curious. You haven’t been yourself this last week. You’ve been distracted. And I knew you didn’t have it in you to look into someone so invasively, so I did it for you.”
“You ran a risk assessment on Rebecca?” I said, incredulously, now intrigued as to the content of the report I was holding.
“Security traced her IP address and linked it all. You don’t have to look at the report if you don’t want to. Maybe it’s better you don’t.” I raised an eyebrow, starting to open the flap, convinced it contained bad news, but Barbara continued hurriedly. “Not because there’s anything bad in there, because there isn’t. They reviewed her family, work, social media, financials and telephone records. I can tell you that she checked out perfectly; nothing untoward. If that’s enough, for you to hear it from me, then I can take that report and shred it so you won’t feel awkward about knowing things that she hasn’t told you about yet.”
I looked down at the envelope and back at Barbara, who still looked as though she feared for her job. The thing was that I wasn’t angry at her. I would never have felt right about getting my security team to look into someone in such detail, but having someone else make the decision for me made me realise how much I needed the reassurance. It didn’t allay all my fears but I knew I was running out of time. If I didn’t get my travel plans confirmed I’d be going nowhere. I stood up and handed Barbara the envelope.
“Thank you, Barbara. You can go ahead and book my travel arrangements, please,” I said as my heart started to beat faster at the thought. Could I really go? Could I take the step?
“For tomorrow?”
“Yes. And I’ll be going to New York on Sunday as well.”
“Do you need accommodation in either place?”
“Can you book me a suite at a hotel near the Providence Marriott. Not at the Marriott, just somewhere close.”
She looked confused but nodded her head, and then she frowned at me as though she wanted to say something more.
“What is it, Barbara?” I asked.
“It’s just…I wanted to say that I think this could be a good thing for you. You need someone good in your life, Andrew. I’ll book you the room but I hope you don’t use it. Take the chance. It might be worth it but if you don’t you’ll never know.”
As Barbara turned and left my office to carry out my instructions, I sat and put my hands behind my head, wondering what the hell I was going to do.
REBECCA
Everything was done. My meeting had gone well and the contracts were signed. I’d called my boss who’d sounded ecstatic and I was hoping for a good bonus in my next pay packet.
Back at the hotel I’d left instructions at the desk so that if Andrew arrived they would give him a key-card for the room. I’d had a long bath in some expensive bubble bath that I’d been given for my birthday and brought with me as a treat to prepare for Andrew’s arrival. I preened myself until I was satisfied that every bit of skin that needed to be smooth had been dealt with, thinking about the things he would do to my body if he came. I painted my toenails with a nude-pink varnish and applied light make-up to add colour to my features. Soft music played in the background from my phone.
The one thing I wasn’t sure about was what to wear.
I’d managed to put myself into a strange situation. If Andrew came, he would open the door to my hotel room and expect what?
Sex immediately?
A long talk about what had brought us together?
I couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like. I also had no idea about how I wanted our reunion to go. I’d missed him so much that it almost didn’t make sense to me. We’d only known each other for a few days and I knew that sex could inflate ‘feelings’ significantly, but this felt different. I craved him desperately but I also wanted to know what he was thinking and what was in his heart.
I knew we were good at sex, great even, but talking, not so much. Then again, maybe that was our problem. We needed to get better at talking.
I looked at the outfits I’d brought with me. My favourite off-the-shoulder grey t-shirt and black skinny jeans, a relaxed slouchy t-shirt dress in navy and white stripes, or the sexy slip that Marnie had emailed me a link for. I’d never spent so much money on nightwear but she was right, it was really something special. Burgundy silk with pale pink lace trim, spaghetti straps and a plunging v-back that went right to the small of my back. It had tiny panties to match with ribbons at the sides. I touched the fabric. It was beautiful and so soft. When I’d tried it on it was what I imagined wearing for him but if it was what I chose, it was going to set the tone for what happened next between us.
Andrew had been using sex to keep women at a distance for years and I didn’t want him to try that with me again, so I went with the slip and panties but put the striped dress over the top. I’d wear some armour against his usual methods and see if I couldn’t get him to open up to his fears and wants. That’s if he turned up at all. I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt pathetic. I’d basted myself like a Christmas turkey and spent money on frivolities that I couldn’t really afford and it would probably be all for nothing. I’d put my heart on the line and there was a big chance it was going to get bruised again.
But maybe not. There was a chance that he would come, and even though tha
t chance was small, I was proud of myself for trying. My dad liked the phrase ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’, and I knew it was true. As Marnie has said, I needed to be willing to take control of my life and know that even if I stumbled, I’d be able to pick myself back up.
It got to 5pm and I ordered a toasted sandwich from room service, eating it between yawns. It was 10pm in England and I was feeling the time difference. I lay back on the bed and switched on the television, finding a rerun of Friends and settling in to watch it. I don’t remember falling asleep but I must have done, because I woke when the bed moved behind me, and I opened my eyes to a dark room.
“Rebecca,” Andrew’s voice whispered, and I turned my head quickly to find him lying behind me. His arm slipped around my waist, anchoring me so I couldn’t move to face him.
“You came,” I said sleepily, feeling his lips against the back of my neck, kissing and nuzzling, and his hips grinding against my arse.
“So will you,” he said, his hand moving down my leg until it reached the bare skin of my thigh. Andrew tugged up my dress, moving the slip with it until my lower half was exposed. He ran his fingers over the edge of my knickers, fingering the ribbon that held them together. My mind raced as he slipped his fingers under the satin, lower and lower until he pressed against my clit. “That’s it, baby. This is what you want, isn’t it?”
It was what I wanted, so badly I was trembling, but I needed to talk to him too.
“Oh,” I moaned as he pushed further, dipping into my opening, thrusting in deep.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned. “Have you been thinking about this? Getting yourself all worked up?”
I nodded, trying to turn in his arms so I could see his face but he held me tightly and I could feel his resistance to deal with anything other than sex. I was filled with self-doubt, considering that maybe physical release was all he wanted from me? I’d spent days thinking over our interactions trying to understand what he’d been feeling when we were together and hoping that I wasn’t alone in wanting more. Had it all just been about sex for him?
