* * * *
As daylight faded, they finished work for the day. Jared went to his office. He didn’t want to go back to the house and take a shower yet, not ready to face Juliana. He was filthy, sweat and dirt caked on his arms and back, grit getting on his leather office chair, but he didn’t care. He heard the electric gate of the perimeter fence clang shut and knew Peter was gone for the day.
The sun was down by six-thirty. He stayed in his chair, hands on his bare scalp, elbows out. His office was neat now that Juliana was here and his gaze drifted: a tidy desk, a stack of air kennels piled in one corner, photos on the wall. There were a half dozen of them, pictures of him and Juliana and Sultan, the tiger they’d rescued together from that shithole cage in Alabama. Sultan’s mother had died in the bed of Jared’s truck as they drove south to Florida. Her cub had climbed onto Jared’s chest, shredded his T-shirt with its claws, and fallen asleep.
Jared fell in love. With the cub, with Juliana, with his life running the big cat refuge; it all swirled together in a rush of sparkling warmth.
In the photos Juliana was thinner, still enormously chesty, and her red hair was tied back in a ponytail. Nowadays she wore a stylish pixie cut that would have looked boyish on a woman less curvy.
The clock ticked over to seven when Juliana appeared in the doorway. Jared smelled her skin lotion and knew she was freshly showered. She wore a loose, peasant-style blouse over a long drape-y skirt, a swirl of turquoise, ribbons, and mirrors, lush in the twilight. Her breasts moved as she approached and the look on her face said she was naked under her clothes.
He pushed away the thought of her beneath him, tried to make his body not care.
Juliana sauntered into the room. “Can’t we kiss and make up?”
“I think we need to have a little talk first.”
“Fuck first, talk later.” She came behind the desk, leaned down and kissed him.
He held her away from him, feeling the flush, the memory of Miguel ogling her. “Talk now.”
She leaned against his desk, her arms back, her breasts thrust out. Silence.
He kept his gaze on the desk, not sure if he could take looking at her beauty and her feral eroticism, trying not to think about her warm skin just inches away from him. “Juliana, what’s going on with you? Why did you do that today?”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal! To me and those kids. Guys that age, they’re nuts. You can’t go flashing it in their faces and not have them respond. Miguel was practically licking the sweat off you this afternoon.”
“Mmmmm. Sounds nice.”
He stood up, fast. Her eyes went wide and her breath quickened when he stood over her. “This isn’t one of your games. You’ve got real people with real feelings here.”
She slipped one hand under his loose waistband. “I can feel this.”
“No.” He twisted away from her even as he stirred. “No. We talk this out. I want this crap to stop.”
“This crap? Since when is my hand down your pants ‘this crap’?” Her voice was pinched.
He had to move away from her, her smell, her creamy skin so close. Her lotion had a touch of mango in it. His stomach rumbled from hunger and lower, his body growled for something more. He stepped back from the desk so fast he nearly tripped on his chair.
“The flirting, babe. And the shirt off around the kids. It’s got to stop.” Weeks and weeks of her standing too close to the male interns, or having them on her side of the desk while working on the website, or her laughing, patting someone’s arm or shoulder. Jared remembered it all then, remembered it when he’d tried so hard not to see it. Peter’s face this morning came back to him and he realized Peter had known all along.
Had she…done anything?
Miguel standing up to him, kid that he was. Miguel looked a little like himself, Jared realized. He might have been a younger, thinner cousin with his caramel-colored skin and dark eyes. He had moment’s sick thought of the boy thrusting between Juliana’s freckled legs, how he would have a tanline above his buttocks, and Jared’s head got fuzzy. His knees went loose and he sagged onto the metal folding chair in front of his desk. It creaked as he rocked on it.
Would she let another man…?
He put his head down over his knees, trying to feel un-fuzzy.
When he felt more normal, he opened his eyes to see Juliana’s feet in blue thong sandals. Her skirt tickled his scalp and he smelled her wetness, smelled her skin and knew he had only to lift her onto the desk and he could be inside her.
He sat up and she straddled his legs. “No,” he said.
She aimed her mouth at his but he turned away. “Come on, Jared, give me a ride. You know you want to.” She bounced a little, her breasts against his bare chest, the blouse fabric a little scratchy.
“Have you done anything? Have you slept with one of these guys out here?”
She lifted up her blouse. She palmed her breasts, her eyes shining. “Here are your jewels, baby. Come ‘ere.” She pressed his mouth to one nipple and he suckled at her and kneaded her with both hands, cupping her, twisting her nipples with his thumbs just the way she liked—he liked—and she moaned against him. He nuzzled between her breasts, breathing her, and then he realized she hadn’t answered him. He sat back and pulled her blouse down off her shoulders to cover her. Her eyes went dark blue.
“Have you done something, Juliana?”
“I’m just having fun.”
“I’m your husband. It’s a little more than having fun! What the hell are you doing with these kids?”
Her blouse was dirty from where he had tugged at it.
Silence.
“Answer me!”
He stood up and pushed her away from him in one smooth motion, a little hard but he could have thrown her across the desk, across the room. He turned and saw the Easton in the corner. Its handle was worn, a comfort—he’d used this bat since high school—and he saw Juliana’s face out of the corner of his eye, her mouth open. Jared stood back from the picture wall and started in, whacking each photo in turn, feeling the tinkle of glass against his chest and arms. The cheap paneling caved in as he worked, insulation puffing out, the wall studs revealed behind the fake wood wallboard. After the photos lay crumpled on the carpet, he kept swinging. He punched through to the hallway. A wall stud broke and when he slipped on one of the slick pictures, that made him stop.
Jared turned to Juliana, holding her gaze, breathing hard. She looked away, her pale legs dangling, and he tossed the bat into the corner. It clanged against the air kennels and one of them fell over. Juliana flinched.
Jared walked out of the office, his eyes wide. In his bathroom, he turned on the hot water and stripped down. He thought about it for a moment and then locked the door behind him.
THE END
* * * *
ABOUT BELEA T. KEENEY
Belea T. Keeney was born and raised in the balmy tropics of Florida and still dreams of velvet-humid nights, the smell of orange blossoms, and the croak of alligators. Her writing has appeared in Florida Horror: Dark Tales from the Sunshine State, The Beast Within, Sniplits, Boundoff, WordKnot, along with many other outlets. Her stories have placed in the Writers in Paradise Short Story competition, the 2010 Florida Review Editor's Choice Award, the 2007 Left Coast Writing Contest, and the 2011 Saints & Sinners Literary Festival. She works as an editor and spends her time off collecting caladiums, feeding birds, and, of course, reading. For more information, visit beleakeeney.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction. We are an invitation-only small press. Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats. Visit us at jms-books.com for more information on our late
st releases!
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