by Corey Brown
Sawyer looks at him from the corner of her eye. “What do you mean all you have to do is type?”
“Just that.” David smiles crookedly. “It’s all there. The storyline, the characters, the whole thing. It’s all in my head, all I have to do is put it on paper. It all flows together, like a river to the ocean.”
“And the ideas just come to you?”
“Yeah, more or less. It’s kind of weird, actually. Sometimes I’m not even sure they’re my ideas.”
“What does that mean?”
“Enough about me,” David waves his hand dismissively. “All we’ve talked about is me and I don’t know anything about you.”
“Oh honey, there’s not much to tell and none of it is very interesting.”
David stops, faces her. Without the first trace of knowing why, he slips a hand to the small of her back, pulling her close. Then he kisses her. There is a moment of uncertainty, she seems to hesitate, but to David’s relief Sawyer wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back. It is long and seductive and when the kiss is done, their faces remain close, lips almost touching.
“That was a bit forward, wasn’t it?” David whispers.
“Yes, it was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. Neither one of us is sorry.”
David smiles, touches her face. “Now, tell me about you,”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” David says. He takes her left hand and holds it up, her fingers curling over his. The wedding ring catches the light of an overhead neon sign. “But let’s start with this,” he says. “I assume there is a Mr. Clark, yes?”
Her turquoise eyes sparkle, mischievously. “No, there isn’t,” Sawyer says. “I wear this just to keep the hounds at bay.” She shrugs. “I don’t mean to sound vain, but I get it all the time. Some guy is on the road, away from home, looking for a quick one. It’s so much easier to say no when people think you’re married. Most of the time, I don’t have to say a word, they see the wedding ring and don’t even ask.”
“Ah, well that didn’t stop me,” David says. “What does that mean?”
“It means either you’re a louse or I am.”
“Or we both are. But we both know….” David adjusts the ring so he can see the band line in her skin. “We both know that you really are married and have been for some time.”
Sawyer’s expression changes, the sparkle in her eyes disappears.
“Oh, so you’re a writer and a detective?” Her tone is icy but she doesn’t pull away.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything,” David says, suddenly feeling awkward. He starts to let go of her hand but Sawyer stops him, gripping his hand.
“It’s okay, honey,” Sawyer says, smiling, the light returning to her eyes. “You’re right, I am married.” She rises up on her toes and kisses him lightly on the lips then takes his arm and says, “Come along, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Crossing Bourbon Street, David and Sawyer weave their way through the mass of people trolling that infamous stretch of pavement. Clearing the throngs, they walk a few moments longer before Sawyer speaks.
“This really isn’t much of a story,” Sawyer says. “Certainly nothing you’d ever write about. It’s happened a million times to a million women. Mr. Clark, Robert and I, have been married for twenty-five years. He owns several manufacturing companies in the east. Maine, South Carolina and I think there’s one in New Jersey. He makes fasteners. You know, nuts, bolts, nails, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I was a secretary for his company in South Carolina. I worked for Albert Higgins, the plant manager. One day Robert had a meeting with Albert, my husband was none too happy, the plant was not performing well and poor Albert was in the crosshairs.”
Sawyer makes a face, concentrating. “I think Albert lost his job over it.” She shrugs and says, “Anyway, I was there to take notes. I guess Robert was quite smitten by me, or so he told Albert. Robert is several years older than I am, so at the time he would have been in his forties. Anyway, Robert asked me out and we flew to New York City for our first date. I was only twenty-four and just out of college. He swept me off my feet, I was overwhelmed. To this day, I’m not sure why he was attracted to me.”
“That’s not hard to figure out,” David says. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and sophisticated. Who wouldn’t be?”
She smiles, and gently pats his arm.
“Flattery might get you somewhere, depending on how clever you are.” Sawyer shakes her head. “Believe me I’m not the same woman now as I was at twenty-four. David, I come from simple stock, gas station attendants, factory workers, those sorts of folks. My cousin Tommy was the first one in the family to graduate college, I was the second. At twenty-three, my idea of elegance was Kentucky Fried Chicken and a bottle of wine. My horizons were as narrow as a two by four. And sophisticated? Oh honey, back then I couldn’t tell the difference between Opus One and the Champagne of Beer. I sure as hell didn’t know the difference between male mid-life crisis and real love.”
Sawyer casts a glance at David, trying to gage his thoughts. But his expression reveals nothing
“Not knowing,” she says. “Being a naïve twenty-something, I fell for him and six months after our first date Robert and I were married.”
“You’re right.” David says, nodding. “That is an old story. Young woman marries older, rich man. I think it’s happened more than a million times. Usually the woman has a plan, did it on purpose, but not you. So what then? Did he ignore you?”
A look flashes across Sawyer’s face. She isn’t sure if David is being disingenuous, patronizing, or real.
“Ignore me?” she says. “Heavens, no. For the first couple of years Robert did anything but ignore me. We were always together. We traveled, ate in fine restaurants, he spent money on me like I was last the woman on Earth. Let me tell you, I lived the high life. At one time we owned three houses in the United States alone. He treated me like a queen. We were never apart and had sex almost every night,” Sawyer laughs. “I think he was making up for lost time.”
“I see,” David says. “So he was well-to-do when you met?”
An expression of surprise and doubt comes over Sawyer’s face, she wonders if there is meaning in his tone of voice, a question within the question. But David doesn’t see her dubious look.
“Yes. We still are,” Sawyer says, feeling insulted and strangely defensive. “Robert built an empire out of nuts and bolts, not to mention his investments. I don’t know what the kingdom is worth, but I could never spend it all. Money is not an issue for me.”
David catches her tone, doesn’t understand how his question provoked her.
“Really?” He says, suddenly feeling awkward. “Uh, so why are you a flight attendant?”
Sawyer smiles vaguely, now she understands. David is not trying to determine if she’s wealthy, he wants to know why she has this kind of job, has a job at all.
“I was wondering,” Sawyer says. “When we’d come around to that.”
“Well, since you don’t need to work, it sort of begs the question. So…?”
Her irritation at David evaporates and Sawyer thinks about the question for a moment. “Just for fun,” she says then shakes her head. “No, that’s not quite true. I don’t work full-time. I’m on call in case someone gets sick or something. I guess I do it to feel normal. When I’m on the road, after work, I’ll sit in the bar with the flight crew and talk about the trip. We’ll talk about the passengers, the flight, oh hell we talk about everything. Nobody knows who I am so they treat me like a regular person. I love it.” Sawyer gives a half shrug. “That’s why I do it, to be out there, to be with people.”
“Interesting.” David says.
“You think I’m weird, don’t you?” Looking off, Sawyer exhales, puffing her cheeks. “Robert certainly does.”
David laughs quietly. “A little eccentric perhaps, but I understand, it makes sense.” He gives her a sideways
glance. “No, I don’t think you’re weird. I think you’re one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever met.”
Sawyer looks at him. “Oh, stop it,” she says, embarrassed. “Just because I’m twenty years older than you, doesn’t mean I’m that easy.”
“No really, it’s true. You are fascinating and beautiful, but if that won’t get me into bed with you, tell me about your husband. Was he married before?”
“My, my, you are trying to have your way, aren’t you?” Sawyer said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Talking to a married woman about her husband is always a turn on.” She shakes her head. “No, I was the first for Robert, as far as I know. That’s what I meant when I said he was making up for lost time. Robert was, still is, a workaholic but when we were first married he suddenly discovered the joy of sex.”
“Ah yes, the joy of sex,” David says. “One of the greatest joys known to man. What happened? Did he re-discover the joy of work?”
They step off the curb, crossing Royal Street. Sawyer shrugs. “I don’t know, something like that. As I said, we’ve been married for twenty-five years, but we’ve only been together for two. The last twenty-three years we’ve been more like roommates, we share a house but live alone.”
“Twenty-three years is a long time to be alone,” David says. “Why’d you stay with him, children?”
Sawyer lets out a short laugh. “Kids? Oh no, Robert wouldn’t hear of it. I wanted three or four, maybe five, but Robert? Not a chance.”
David gives her a look, prompting Sawyer to answer his question.
“Commitment, I guess,” Sawyer says, with a shrug. “Commitment is why I’m still with him. We promised, you know, for better or worse.”
“You’ve never cheated on him? Or him on you?”
Sawyer stops, stares up at him. David wishes he could rewind just long enough to ask a different question, or at least keep his mouth shut. He suddenly feels like a voyeur who’s been caught peering in a neighbor’s window.
“I’m sorry,” David says, a pained expression on his face. “That was rude. Please forgive me.”
Sawyer continues to scrutinize him. Who asks such things? And why is she telling him all of this, anyway? This is personal. She knows he is famous, she knows he is successful, but what does she really know about David Carlson? More importantly, what does she really feel for him?
Still, it seems as though she had invited David into this part of her life and, in some strange way, it feels like the evening has been leading up to this very moment. Without thinking about it, she had anticipated this question. Sawyer draws a deep breath, in part to decide what she should say, in part to say what she should.
“Robert?” Sawyer says. “Having an affair?”
David does not want to intrude, he regrets being presumptuous. He hadn’t intended to ask about that, or at least not ask it quite that way. He wants to hear more, wants to hear her story but, oddly, more than anything, he just wants to hear her voice. The sound of South Carolina, the sound of her words seems to carry him away like music on water. Her voice seems to take him to a place he never found in California. He struggles to listen to what she is saying instead of hearing her voice.
“He’s in his seventies, now,” Sawyer is saying. “And still works day and night. I don’t know if he’s had time for an affair, but I suspect he’s had a few. I can’t believe he hasn’t, but I can’t prove it.” Sawyer sighs, almost as if to say, okay here goes. “But I have,” she says. “Only twice, and not because of love or lust.” Sawyer shrugs, she hesitates, waits for the right words. “I was just lonely. I just needed to be with someone, you know?”
David nods. “Loneliness is a powerful thing. Sometimes the need for touch is like the need for air, like breathing.”
“It can be that way.” Sawyer shakes her head. “I feel like a fool. Here I am, married and admitting to a complete stranger that I’ve been unfaithful. I can only imagine what you’re thinking.”
David takes her hand and kisses her palm. As his lips touch her skin an odd thought crosses his mind; he wants to say, ‘Let’s start with this.’
Instead, David says, “Sawyer, I don’t feel any differently about you than I did five seconds ago. Frankly, I’m not surprised.”
Her eyes widen and she starts to speak but David cuts her short. “I don’t mean that as an insult. From what you’ve told me, a lot of people would’ve done the same thing, including me. But what about now, what about tonight, are you just lonely?”
“Maybe,” Sawyer says. “Yes, I suppose I am. But it’s more than that.” She looks at him closely and says, “I know this sounds like a pick-up line, but I feel something for you. Yeah, I’m lonely. Yes, I want to be with someone, but I felt something for you the moment we met on the airplane. David, I’m fifty-three years old and have been alone for all my life. I’m wealthy, I have every material thing anyone could ever want, but I want more. I want….I need a relationship. I’m tired of being alone. Can you understand that?”
Mentally, David flinches. Does he understand? On the airplane, he thought he had felt something raw and unbridled for Sawyer. Later, in his hotel room he had imagined her, naked and subjected to his fantasies. But when they had climbed into the limousine, David felt a mix of quiet desire and deep attraction for her. Learning of Sawyer’s wealth had calmed his fears about her financial motivation, she was not after his money. And moments earlier David thought he had wanted something more than just a night of sex. But now he wasn’t sure. Were things moving too fast?
David understands the need to be with someone, but the need to be more, the need to be something bigger than a moment of physical gratification? This he hasn’t fully considered. David understands love. He loves his sister. He would walk through fire for Suzanne.
But this is different. He is only thirty-two years old, twenty-one years younger than Sawyer, young enough to be her son. What does he know about being with someone like Sawyer Clark?
He’d had one or two serious relationships in the last few years, but work had always interrupted. Work had always come first, had always gotten in the way of anything permanent. David thinks about this. Maybe he understands Robert Clark better than he does Sawyer. If that is true, what then? Why is he here, for a night of companionship, a quick lay? What does he really want?
David looks at Sawyer looking up at him. Her beautiful eyes searching his own, hoping he really does understand. For the first time David sees the lines on her face. Not deep or excessive but the kind of wrinkles that come naturally with age. Without actually knowing it, he sees her for what she is: she is real. She isn’t some hot body he’s picked up at a celebrity function, or a character in one of his screenplays. She isn’t perfectly shaped or without flaws, but she is beautiful and she has wrinkles and she is real.
His fingertips trace her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Sawyer is not speaking but the gentle sound of her voice is still in his head, like the hush of a summer breeze at sunset. Just below the surface, David knows what she is feeling. He has no idea why or where the sensation came from, but at that moment he knows what Sawyer really wants. And he understands what is missing from his own life. But is Sawyer the one who is missing?
“I know about being alone,” David says, cautiously. “I know exactly how you feel. But I’m not sure you want to be with me.”
Sawyer lets go of his hand and seems to step back slightly. If not physically, she pulls back emotionally. “I see,” she says, her eyes starting to tear. “I guess you don’t feel the same way I do.”
“I didn’t say that. I----”
“You don’t have to explain,” Sawyer says, interrupting. She pauses, a sad smile plays across her face. “Look, David, I’m not angry with you. I had a wonderful evening, and you’re a very generous man. I shouldn’t have such expectations.” Her smile fades. “Oh honey, it’s all right if you had different plans for tonight.”
“It’s not like that,” David says. “That’s not what I meant.”
He puts his hands on her shoulders, almost loses focus as he takes in the luxury of her skin against his palms. David holds Sawyer at arm’s length and says, “Okay, you bore your soul to me, now it’s my turn. Listen to what I have to say then you can decide if you still feel anything for me.”
A barge sounds its horn from somewhere on the Mississippi. They are closer to the river than he had realized. David and Sawyer are standing outside a small restaurant. There are no windows in front but a single, wooden door stands open, providing the only view to the inside. The dimly lit sign above the entrance declares that they are in front of Jingo’s. The place reminds David of a run-down bar called Lord Stanley’s he used to frequent during his college years. Through the main dining room, toward the back, David can see a door leading to an inner courtyard. Jingo’s is busy but not crowded.
“C’mon,” David says, taking Sawyer by the hand. “Let’s get some coffee.”
«»
They are alive, feeling on edge, raw. Stopping at the hotel room door, she makes no effort to unlock it. The hallway is empty and silent. Sawyer leans against the wall, smiles, then closes her eyes. She feels as if they are already making love.
David leans in and kisses her neck, just below her ear. He takes in the faint aroma of Sawyer’s perfume as his hand finds the inside of her leg. Gliding upward, David’s fingertips drift across nylon then find velvety skin: Thigh-highs.
His hand continues upward, stopping at the delicate line of her panties then gently sliding his fingers under the thin edge of fabric.
