by B. B. Hamel
I’m frankly amazed by Jacob. Not only is he gorgeous, but now he’s rich. And he gives a ton of money to charity apparently. He’s one of the biggest philanthropists in the country, certainly the biggest in this city. This is the same man that I’ve been daydreaming about on and off for years, the same teacher that kissed me in that classroom ten years ago.
I keep thinking about him as the days pass. I keep seeing his handsome face, older but still incredibly attractive. He looked at me with a moment of unbridled passion, just a very brief moment before he was all business again. Darlene pressed me for more details about my past with Jacob, and I told her some stuff about him as a teacher, but I carefully kept the truth hidden.
I wanted to have an affair with him, and we almost did.
I can’t imagine what things would be like now if we had really acted on those impulses back then. Now though, my desire for him is totally awakened, but I know it’ll never happen. He’s important, rich, and busy as hell apparently. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again except at company functions. He’s probably ashamed of me anyway.
The first week finally ends and the weekend comes. I distract myself from thinking about Jacob by hanging out with some friends, basically filling time, but he’s still always in the back of my mind. When Monday rolls around, I’m surprised to find that I’m excited to go into the office.
When I get to my desk and log into my computer, my heart skips a beat. There’s an email I’m not expecting, sent just a few minutes before I sat down.
It’s from him. It’s from Jacob.
Heart hammering, I double-click and open it up.
Hi Sofia, it was good running into you again. I can’t believe it’s been ten years since I last saw you. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch, say this afternoon? Meet me out front at one. Jacob.
I read and reread the message twice before typing a reply. Jacob, I’d love that. I’ll see you at one. Sofia. I hit send and feel completely breathless.
I wasn’t expecting this, and maybe it’s stupid to accept. He’s probably just being polite. Truth is though, I want to see him, want to talk to him. I’m curious about his life and how he ended up here. And I’m still intensely attracted to him, just like I was back when I was a teenager.
It’s an amazing feeling, having this intense crush again. I haven’t felt it in so long, and it feels good. The morning flies past, mostly because I’m so distracted daydreaming about Jacob’s strong hands all over my body. I want to call him Mr. Drake again and let him spank my ass with a ruler, let him pull my hair and fuck me while I’m wearing a short little skirt like I wore back in the day. It’s messed up and totally inappropriate but I don’t care. I’m soaking wet just imagining what he could do to me.
When the time finally arrives, I gather my stuff and head toward the door.
“Hey!” Darlene says, catching up with me. “Wanna have lunch?”
I frown and shake my head. “Can’t sorry,” I say. “Meeting a friend.”
“Ah,” she says. “Have fun!”
“Thanks,” I answer and get on the elevator. I feel bad lying, but I can’t have her know the truth.
I get downstairs and head outside. I don’t see Jacob anywhere when suddenly a dark car pulls up in front of me. The window rolls down and there he is, smiling at me.
“Glad you showed,” he says. “Get in.” The door pops open and I climb inside.
Jacob slides over to give me room. It’s a gorgeous town car with dark leather seats and a divider between us and the driver. As soon as I’m inside, the car starts going, and I turn to look at Jacob.
We’re sitting inches apart and I can still barely believe that it’s him. Jacob looks at me sideways, a little grin on his face.
“Been a while,” he says to me.
I take a sharp breath. “I wasn't sure if you recognized me,” I admit to him.
“I knew it was you the second I saw you,” he says. He’s wearing his usual suit, perfectly tailored to his tight, muscular body, and I can’t help but shift slightly closer. He definitely does look older than the last time I saw him all those years ago, but it’s older in a good way: distinguished, rugged, experienced. He’s tanned and healthy with deep blue eyes and a slight beard. His hair is clean and close cropped, clearly cut recently, and I want to reach out to run my fingers through the longer wavy strands at the top.
“Been a long time, Mr. Drake,” I say, heart pounding.
He laughs at that. “Nobody calls me that anymore,” he says. “Just Jacob these days.”
“Hard to believe you’re the founder of this company. I mean… I had no clue.”
“I bet,” he says, grinning. “I wasn’t always planning on being a sub.”
“You were a good teacher though,” I say.
“I’m sure you’d think so,” he says softly, and I swear he has a knowing smile on his face. I’m not sure if it’s a reference to that moment, but he doesn’t give me time to think about it. “I didn’t teach for very long, anyway.”
“I know everyone really liked you,” I say, feeling awkward and not myself.
“High school kids like anyone that’s remotely young. It was tough though, teaching you guys and building Quest at night.”
I watch him, but my attention is pulled away as the car suddenly stops in front of a building. Jacob gets out, walks around the back, and lets me out. As I step onto the sidewalk, he instructs the driver to wait nearby.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod and follow him into what looks like a plan little diner from outside. But as we move in through the doors, I realize that the façade is totally misleading.
“This place is called Aunt Bee’s,” he says, smiling at the way I’m looking around. “It’s run by a Japanese friend of mine, Toshiki Kadomatsu. He’s an incredible chef. Come on.”
The entranceway is all marble flooring with deep, rich mahogany walls and exposed beams in the roof. It looks like an ancient steakhouse from the fifties mixed with a New Jersey diner, part old world charm and new world futurism. As we pass the hostess, Jacob nodding at her with a smile, I notice that the tables are all rounded with gleaming edges to them. The bar looks just like a counter at a diner, with low stools and more chrome edges, but the wood frames everything.
“He’s something of an Americanophile,” Jacob says as we head to the back. “Obsessed with vintage American culture. You should see his collection of jeans.”
“Jeans?” I ask him, totally bewildered. The place is crowded, every table packed, and there were more people waiting to be seated. But Jacob is just walking through it all like he owns the place.
“Sure, denim,” he says. “Vintage stuff, you know, when America was still manufacturing it. Japan loves vintage American stuff. Motorcycles, denim, rock ’n’ roll, Elvis. All that stuff.”
I hurry to catch up to him as we move through the back dining room, more wood and chrome, before he finally stops at the side of an empty booth. It’s the best booth in the house, close to the kitchen and the bathrooms, but with a good view of the whole room.
“Here we go,” he says. “My favorite.” He sits down and I sit across from him.
“Did you have a reservation?” I ask him, totally off guard.
He laughs and shrugs. “Something like that. I just called Toshiki up and let him know I’d be coming, he always saves my favorite booth.”
I shake my head and laugh, at a loss for words, as a waitress appears with menus. Before she can leave though, Jacob orders a sushi platter and a few other small plates.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “I’m starving and gotta get back soon.”
“No, sushi’s great,” I say. “This place is amazing.”
“Glad you like it.” He smiles at me, his eyes meeting mine, and I feel that chilling excitement hit me again. “So, what have you been doing all these years?”
I take a breath, at a loss for where to start. “Nothing as interesting as this,” I admit to him.
“I doubt that’s true. How’d you end up working for me?”
“Well, boring story, really.”
He smiles as the waitress returns with waters. “Tell it anyway,” he says, sipping from his glass.
“I was working at a law firm, opposition research sort of thing, and got a call one day from your recruiter.”
“Billy?” he asks.
I nod. “Yep. Gave me a really good pitch. I came in for the interview, got an offer on the spot that I couldn’t turn down, and here we are.”
He smiles at me. “Sounds like they’re doing their jobs.”
“Well-oiled machine,” I say.
He laughs. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s always good catching up with old students.”
That phrase, “old students,” jabs at me a little bit. I don’t know why, but it bothers me. We fall into small talk after that, catching up on what he’s been doing. He tells me about struggling to create Quest while teaching during the day.
“It was a bunch of kids that didn’t want to learn math during the day, and mindless programming all night long.”
“Frustrating,” I say to him.
“Unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head. “Really, I don’t know how I did it. But I built a prototype, pitched it to Byron, and here we are.”
“Byron?” I ask him.
“My first investor. Member of the board. He’s a good man.”
I nod and the waitress comes a second later with the first course. It’s a sushi plate, with a bunch of different rolls I don’t immediately recognize. But it’s delicious, and we talk comfortably as we eat.
More dishes arrive. A bowl of amazing mac ’n’ cheese, little savory pancakes, fried dumplings, fried chicken. We picked at it and eat as we talk.
He asks me about classmates, people I haven’t spoken to in a long time. We reminisce about the old days a little bit, though we never mention the topic that’s hanging between us.
“Remember Georgie?” he asks me, popping a dumpling into his mouth.
“Georgie Kettler?” I ask him. “That kid was…”
“A total moron,” he finishes for me and I burst out laughing. “Seriously, the kid was more muscle than brain. It’s a good thing that he was a good football player.”
“I think he’s still back home working for his dad now,” I say.
“Good for him. Glad someone gave that idiot a job.”
I laugh, delighted in hearing a teacher talk shit about his ex-students. “And what about me?” I ask him, leaning toward him across the table. “What kind of student was I?”
“Very attentive,” he says, keeping a straight face. “Always happy to stay after and lend a helping hand.”
I grin at him, a flash of excitement running through me. “What can I say? I guess I was a teacher’s pet.”
“Something like that,” he says, looking at me with a small smile on his face. But the moment is interrupted when the waitress comes and starts clearing off plates.
I want to ask him about that moment. I want to tell him that I understand why he stopped, and that it didn’t really affect me in the long run. I don’t know if he feels guilty or strange about kissing a student, but it didn’t mess me up or anything like that. Really, it just gave me something to think about while touching myself.
But the check comes and soon we’re up, walking back through the strange diner. He texts the driver and we chat on the curb for a minute before the car pulls up.
We get inside and off we go, heading toward the office.
“That was nice,” he says to me. “Seriously, it’s good seeing you again. I’m glad you’re all grown up.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m all grown up? You’re practically ancient now.”
He laughs at that. “Sorry, I meant it in a good way.”
“Oh yeah? How did you mean it?”
He glances away, and I know what he’s trying to say. “Just strange, is all. You’re not that high school girl I remember.” He looks back at me. “But in some ways you are.”
“I know what you mean. You’re not the cute young teacher I remember anymore, but you are.”
He grins at me. “I’m still cute, I assume you mean.”
I blush. “Not what I meant.”
“Sure it is. You think I don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“How hard you were flirting with me,” he says, making my heart hammer in my chest. “And maybe you don’t know it, but keeping my hands off you back then… well, you know how hard that was for me.”
“You weren’t so successful,” I say. I can’t believe we’re talking about this, and he seems so totally nonchalant about it. But my heart is beating fast and I feel like I may pass out at any second.
He goes to say something, but the car stops and I realize we’re in front of the building already.
“Anyway, your stop,” he says. “I have some meetings to get to. It was nice catching up.”
“Yeah, thanks for lunch,” I say.
“See you around.” He grins at me and it hits me hard how attractive he is.
I climb out of the car and watch as it pulls back into traffic, taking Jacob off to some other amazing, special location.
I can’t believe he brought it up. I figured we’d never talk about it, pretend it didn’t happen. But I’m happy he said something.
Maybe he’s been thinking about it. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as I’ve been thinking about it, which is pretty obsessively on and off for ten years.
I shake my head and turn away. I can’t give in to this. I have to keep it professional. I head back inside, back into my cubicle, and I do my best to forget about that conversation for the rest of the day.
5
Jacob
I’m buzzing with excitement even into the next day. Every step I take it’s all Sofia, Sofia, Sofia, more with every breath. It’s a weird feeling, this headlong rush into a woman from my past, although she was nearly a girl back then. We’re totally different people, and yet…
There was the hint of the girl I wanted back in my classroom. Just the hint of her, a subtle suggestion of that flirtatious eighteen-year-old. She looks like her still, of course, but it’s in the small quirks. The smiles, the way she makes eye contact, the way she leans toward me when I speak. It’s the cadence and rhythms of her speech.
That night, after work, I went home and found the yearbook from ten years ago. I found her picture and smiled, a stupid grin: she looks almost no different. Better figure now, since she’s a woman, but basically the same.
I come into work this morning with a smile on my face. I haven’t felt this energized in a long time. I can’t believe I broached it with her, the subject I was dreading. Part of me was afraid that she would remember it negatively, like her creepy teacher tried to make out with her one day or something. But when I brought it up, she didn’t seem upset at all. In fact, she blushed and seemed excited by it, which makes me think she has the same memory that I do. It was one of the most erotic, sexual, intense moments of my life, and all we did was kiss back then.
I bet she’s been imagining what else I would’ve done to her all these years. I bet she still wants to find out.
It’s an insane thought, but I can’t help myself. Instead of going to my office, I head down a floor and walk right past Sofia’s cube. She’s not in yet, since I come in early, but I’m not looking for her.
I knock on Karl’s office door. “Yeah?” he calls out, and I open it up. He’s at his computer, bent slightly forward, reading something on the screen. He looks surprised when I step in.
“Morning,” I say to him.
“Morning, Jacob,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’m here to ask you a favor.” I stand in front of his desk, refusing to sit down in the chairs. He has them purposefully low, to make him sit up higher than his guests. It’s a cheap power move.
“What’s that?” he as
ks. “I figured you were here to yell at me for the board meeting.”
I hesitate a second. “I don’t need to yell,” I say to him. “You know how I feel about it.”
“I do,” he says. “And you know I disagree. And so do certain other board members.”
“Yes,” I say to him, inwardly chafing, but I can’t let it show. Not when I want something from him. “Well, at any rate, I’m not here about that.”
“What can I do for you?”
“It’s about an employee.” I hesitate, not sure how to go about doing this. As soon as I start, I know it’s a mistake, but it’s way too late to back out now.
“Someone mess something up?” he asks me, raising an eyebrow.
Of course he assumes someone made a mistake. He always assumes the worst.
“No, actually. I know someone from your team, from back in the day. I was hoping I could have her transferred over to my department.”
Karl looks surprised. “Sofia?”
“That’s right,” I answer, remembering how we were first introduced.
He doesn’t say anything at first. His eyebrows shoot up to the top of his head and I can see the wheels spinning.
“She’s a good worker,” he says finally. “Really highly paid recruit. We did a lot to get her. I was under the impression that the two of you were only passing acquaintances.”
“I’m sure she’s great,” I say, ignoring that last part. “I’d be happy to have my people assist in finding a replacement.”
“Ah,” he says. “That’s just it. I don’t think there is a replacement, not for her. You understand, don’t you, Jacob?”
I understand perfectly, I realize. He knows now, he knows that I want Sofia. Maybe not sexually or romantically, but he knows she matters to me in some way, and he’s going to use that against me. Before, she was just someone I happened to know. Now though, she’s someone I want around, and that makes her important.
