The Best Laid Plans

by Mataya, Tamara

  Well. Some women in their late twenties thought success was defined by what your husband did, and how beautiful your children were. Jayne didn’t have either. She did have Malcolm though, a man sexy enough to dazzle any of those shallow bitches. Jayne practically purred at the thought of jealousy in their eyes before shaking herself.

  Was she seriously considering going to this reunion?

  No one from work, or her life now, knew about her horrid past. Pretending to be a different person who had always been a beautiful, successful, go-getter was easy enough around strangers because they had no basis for comparison. They didn’t witness the awful beginnings that marred the face of her carefully woven tapestry, instead they only saw the image she created. The people at the reunion were there from the start. Some of them would be searching for a loose thread so they could pull who she was apart.

  It could all go horribly wrong. She’d only just managed to smooth away the bumps and betrayals of high school in the last few years. Never mind the whole situation with her sister.

  But if she went back, amazing, and successful, and showed those bitches what was up, this could redeem her in a huge way. Jayne had always identified with the underdogs. This could be her heroic moment where the underdog confronts the bullies of her past, and smite them with her ferocious awesomeness!

  She opened her Deleted Items folder and stared at the email.

  And Malcolm would be at her side. She’d dazzle them all, and then they could go back to the hotel and fuck like bunnies.

  She opened the message and double-checked the email details. Oh. It was being held at the high school. Well. They’d leave the reunion, go to the hotel, and fuck like bunnies.

  A click of the mouse, and she’d moved the email back to her inbox.

  Someone once said revenge was a dish best served cold. Someone else said that success was the best revenge. They were both wrong.

  Revenge was a dish best served by a foxy redhead with a scandalously sexy musician at her side.

  After work, her cell rang the second her cheeks hit her couch. Her mom.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. So have you been seeing anyone?” Pessimistic hope lived in her mother’s all-too familiar question.

  “Yes.”

  There was a scrabbling sound as if her mom had almost dropped the phone. “You have?”

  Jayne chuckled. She knew her mom had hoped she’d meet someone and hated that she hadn’t settled down yet. She never expected a different answer, but asked her the same question every week.

  “Yes.”

  “Just the one, right?” she asked carefully.

  “Yes, Mom. I finally selected one from my harem of male suitors.” Old joke.

  “Oh, Jayne, don’t be silly,” she warmly scolded. “So what’s his name, what’s he do? Is he nice? What do you guys do?”

  Mostly have mind-blowing sex. “His name is Malcolm, he’s a musician – a proper one doing studio work, not some grungy guy with Peter Pan syndrome trying to be a rock star.” Her mother made an approving sound. “Yes, he’s nice. We,” she searched for a kind euphemism that wouldn’t shock her Mom, “date.”

  “When do your Dad and I get to meet him?”

  “It’s early days! You definitely won’t be meeting him any time soon. Maybe in a month or two.” If we’re still together then.

  “And he treats you well? Have you met his parents?”

  “Yes, he treats me well, and no I haven’t met his parents. No immediate plans to either.”

  “Good! Because we get to meet him first.”

  “You’re so competitive!”

  “Well, you’ve never given me a maybe before! I have hope! This is exciting!”

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “Please, I’m old. I want grandkids before I’m too old to enjoy them!”

  “Hanging up now!” Jayne laughed.

  “Love you, sweetheart!”

  “Love you, and love to Dad as well.”

  Jayne hung up, flushed and happy. There were no plans to change their relationship, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Malcolm was sexy as hell, independent, smart, and fun. He didn’t try to put her in a little box, or control her like a couple men had tried to do once they wanted to make it exclusive. Commitments changed people and not usually for the better.

  Jayne wasn’t stupid. Being awkward in school, and one of the guys in college, had shown her what most guys were out for. Hearing the games her guy friends ran on women had been a real eye-opener. Men were scandalous and would do nearly anything to get their target into bed. Then they were off to the next conquest. Sure, eventually they met someone they wanted to settle down with. But too many times she saw the guys chase the confident woman, only to resent her independent nature once that relationship status changed.

  A couple years ago, she’d thought she’d been with someone who loved her. She’d loved once and it had turned out badly. It was her fault for wanting more, for thinking she had it, and for trusting him. He was only looking out for number one. She learned to separate sex from emotions then.

  Jayne had no problem at all flipping the script and running the same games on guys. Not like any of them were broken up about her using them – they got their backs scratched as well. They’d have done the same to her. Some tried to do the same to her. But the late nights listening to her guy friends purge plays and compare notches in their bedposts taught her well.

  She’d never be one of those girls. No man would ever do that to her, use her as a quick fuck. Wise to their games, she had heard all their lines, and always struck first. Lisa Tristina had helped, but it occurred to her that her usefulness had come to an end with the way her and Malcolm had connected. No, not connected. Hooked up. ‘Making a connection’ was something that hippies did. She and Malcolm weren’t in love, and they didn’t connect. They fucked.

  Speaking of which …

  She typed out a text.

  ‘My place tonight. I assume you remember the address. Ten PM. No is not an option.’

  ***

  Malcolm could barely breathe for ten minutes after he read the email. High school reunion. On some level he knew they were customary, that his just loomed on the horizon around his twenty-eighth birthday. But until he’d run into Jayne again, he hadn’t thought much about it. High school had been pushed to the back of his mind, relegated to the settings of some of his favorite movies. Doing the last two years via correspondence had helped with that dissociation.

  Then Jayne came and ripped open the old wounds. Still, the way he felt about her now had bandaged them up again. In being with her, a piece of him felt healed. Or it was, until Claire’s email brought it flooding back in a completely different way.

  A little note at the bottom in a different font than the rest of the email, made him think the rest was what everyone got, and this addition was something she’d added herself.

  Dylan! I hear you’re deep in the music scene now. I saw your name on my girlfriend’s favorite singer’s album and freaked out! Good on you for making something of yourself. Would you be interested in showcasing your talent at the reunion? Nothing major, just a song or two during the slide show or something more if you’re into it? Let me know!

  Seriously, how the hell had she even tracked him down? He’d moved two hours away from that small town hellhole and into the big city, changed his name … but he hadn’t really. Claire had been the valedictorian, mostly down to her photographic memory. Fingers in all the nerdy pies, she had always been a bit of a hacker, a member of the marching band, chess club, and she’d been on the yearbook committee as well. She’d had access to everyone’s personal files, would have known his middle name, seen his last name, and looked him up online.

  No wonder she’d been put in charge of the reunion. If she could track him down, it sounded like no one would escape her binary arm. Unless they were on a mission in a grass hut somewhere in one of the three places in the world with no Wi-
Fi, everyone would be tapped to return to Tall Stone. Would they all show up? Claire was right about Facebook killing the surprise of the reunion – social media made it way too easy to see what people were up to nowadays.

  The feel good movies were all the same: The hero rolled up to the reunion, seeing the jocks’ six packs turned to flabby kegs. The bitchy homecoming queen was something lame, but still thought she was fabulous. The geeks made good, came back awesome, shaming everyone who had ever tried to hold them down. The cool girl who hadn’t known she was cool had turned into a beautiful swan.

  But real life wasn’t like that.

  Was it?

  He was in amazing shape, and would definitely turn a few heads. And he worked with famous people all the time. He wasn’t exactly famous himself, but he’d achieved success in a cool job people would love to be in.

  And he had the knockout girl. But did he even want to go? Of course he did. But he had to come clean to Jayne first. Dread burrowed into his stomach and built a home for itself. How was he going to bring that up? ‘Hey, I got an invitation to my ten year high school reunion—What? You did too? Where did you go? Oh my god, me too! What a coincidence … ’

  Damn.

  Maybe she’d bring it up first, invite him as her date? He could weave in the fact they used to go to the same school, act like it was no big deal. Though that felt dishonest as hell. Mostly because it was. He’d just have to ask if she had plans that night. And see her reaction and go from there.

  His phone buzzed with a text from her. Speak of the devil. She invited him to her place – a big deal for her. He got the impression she never brought men back to her home. It was a great sign, and would be perfect. He could invite her to his “gig.”

  Hopefully she said yes. He typed his response.

  ‘As you wish.’

  She felt a little shy inviting him in. She never had men back here, and he had been inside before only once. Her memory flashed back to that first night they’d met when he’d pressed her against the wall, right there to her left. She shivered remembering that glorious torture. His eyes darkened when she looked at him, responding to her expression.

  Last time he’d made her want him so bad, and not delivered. Two could play at that game. She’d deliver, but not right away. She walked ahead out of reach. “Care for a tour?”

  “Sure.” He’d stepped closely behind her, so near she could feel his heat saturating the back of her legs, bare in a short skirt, but he didn’t touch her. She showed him the kitchen, and the living room, and the dining area before pointing the bathroom out to him, and then decided to take him to the balcony rather than head straight for the bedroom like her body demanded she do.

  She opened the door, and waved him through first.

  “This is a fabulous balcony.” His brows were raised and what she could see of his expression looked legitimately impressed by what he saw. It pleased her. The view was one of her favorite things about her home, other than the heated indoor swimming pool on the fourteenth floor. But that wasn’t hers alone or they’d already be naked in it.

  “Isn’t it?” Her apartment sat on the twenty-first floor of the southwest corner of the building, and the balcony was on the south side corner. The railings weren’t bars, instead they were solid Plexiglas with iron around the top. No obstructions, though it could get warm in the summer. Jayne craved the heat like a cat, so it wasn’t an issue for her.

  “Mmhmm.” He came up behind her, put his hands beside hers on the railing, framing her with his arms. She’d arched her back, pressing her ass against his crotch before she realized she’d moved. And then she began gently grinding against him because she regretted nothing about the crazy way she wanted him.

  “You are bad for me.” And she loved it way too much.

  He kissed the nape of her neck. “How so?”

  She tipped her head forward to give him better access to her neck, watching the traffic below while his lips thrilled her. “I lose myself with you.”

  “Then we’re more than even.” His fingers traced patterns across the swell of her hips and the dip of her waist. Sign language unseen, but spoken across her skin in meaningless words her body understood and craved.

  She turned and kissed him, wishing she could absorb the sensations that flooded her from his touch and stow them away to bring out and experience later. She pushed her fingers through his hair, and gently pulled him closer, deepening their kiss, needing more. Slow movements turned to frenzy as lust slammed them even closer together, drawing their hands to roam wildly over each other as their tongues stroked and danced across each other.

  Jayne couldn’t catch her breath for the desperation clawing at her throat. She needed him now, needed their clothes to evaporate so the tiny barrier between their bodies disappeared.

  He broke the kiss. “Stay here.” He pulled away from her and walked into the apartment.

  She took a step after him. “Malcolm?” Desire formed a haze over her senses like a thick, warm fog.

  “Stay. Please.”

  She stayed.

  ***

  Malcolm had never done anything like this before, but the idea velcroed itself to his mind and he couldn’t shake it free. He walked away from Jayne and headed for her bedroom. Quickly finding what he was looking for, he returned to the balcony.

  “Blankets? You want to … ?”

  He nodded slowly, unable to speak.

  “But … out here?” She gestured to the balcony.

  “Yes.” His voice was an octave lower than usual. He stepped around her and draped a blanket on the inside of the balcony, with almost a third of the material draped between the top rail and the glass. The neighbor’s balcony was set on the other side, too far away to see, but was now obstructed from view. From the waist down.

  No one from the street could see the bottoms of their bodies either.

  But they could see everything.

  Jayne looked around.

  “Only if you want to.” Malcolm wrapped the second blanket around himself, wrapped his arms around her so they were in a private cocoon. Her gaze landed on his mouth and he knew she wanted in. She slammed closed the inches between their bodies, arms tightly around him, dropping her hands to his ass where she grabbed him, and squeezed him in furious rhythm with their kiss. She pulled him closer and ground her hips against his already painfully hard erection.

  His hands were busy holding the blanket shut at her back, but she didn’t need his help. She unzipped his jeans, yanked them down a few inches, and pushed him back so he leaned against the wall. With a wicked grin, she lowered herself inside the blanket cocoon to her knees, and pulled him free of his boxers.

  “Jayne, no—”

  “Shut up. You are going to stand there and take everything I give you.” He grinned at the familiar words. And then she took him in her mouth and it was all he could do to hold on against the delicious friction and heat. She ran her tongue up one side and down the other, then sucked him as she took as much of him as she could in, circling her tongue underneath as she went. Her hand joined her mouth in a counterpoint to the sensations, as she stroked, and licked, and sucked every inch of him. Her other hand came up and gently cupped his balls.

  God she was good. Too good. He was going to come.

  “Jayne, no more.” He gritted his teeth. “Stand up.” Surprisingly she did. “Turn around.” Again she complied. He needed his hands free. “Grab the blanket.” She grabbed the edges, pinching them closed at her chest.

  As soon as his hands were free, they were all over her. But it didn’t matter how much he desperately needed to be inside her, he needed to take the time to appreciate the rest of her body. He couldn’t help it. Greedy hands shot up the front of her shirt and under her bra, kneading and rubbing. She squeaked when he flicked her hardened nipples, and sighed when he raked his hands down her belly and pushed up her little jean skirt.

  He wanted to record the sounds she made when his hands were on her. They were the most be
autiful music he’d ever heard. Instead, he tried to stay present and memorize them, burn the feeling of her skin into his mind because nothing would ever compare to this. She shimmied her hips to help gravity when he slid her panties down, and then he kicked off his jeans.

  Should I go down on her? I love how wild she gets against my mouth. And out here it would be so delicious – especially after she just did it to me.

  But then she spread her legs and leaned forward, bracing herself against the iron, and he couldn’t exist outside of her for another second. He pushed in and she pushed back, and they both moaned throaty and low. She was so wet, so ready for him. Embracing her tightly, he pulled her fully upright so she stood, leaning against his chest while he filled her.

  “God, Jayne, you’re perfect.” He kissed her neck and rocked in and out, just marveling at how perfectly they fit together.

  “You feel so good.” Her voice shook.

  He ran his hands down the backs of her thighs, urging her legs further apart. Gripping her hips, he thrust deeper inside. As he entered her, she pushed back as hard as she could, increasing the force they met with. She panted and he bit her shoulder, reached around and lightly stroked her. She grabbed at the railing again and urged him with her breath and hips to go faster.

  So he did.

  ***

  The blankets kept everything covered, but she still felt wildly exposed. A breeze blew in, lapping at her legs and ass, making her feel even more naked. God, anyone looking up would know – there’s no way they couldn’t realize two people were fucking up here. It made it hotter, being seen while staying hidden.

  They’d never done it standing up before. New places were stimulated inside her, sweetly stroked, firmly claimed with all the power his thighs could muster. So much more force than when lying in bed. It was delicious and perfect and she wanted him to go even harder, and then he did and she forgot how to breathe.

  His hands spread her even further apart, exposing more sensitive areas that his body slapped against as he drove into her. His hard shaft penetrated so deeply her legs wobbled from the utterly contented fullness radiating from her core.