Club Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  “I am. I have to.”

  “What about your job at AAJ?”

  “I’m going to try to get a leave of absence but if they won’t do that, then I’m going to quit.”

  Marcy’s eyes widened. How could Jenna be like that? Marcy found herself envious. She would have been making out budgets, lists of pros and cons. It would have taken her weeks to make a decision. “What about all your friends, the bowling league, your library volunteering? What about all that? You’ll be leaving everything you know. What if you don’t like Chloe in close quarters?”

  Jenna chuckled and patted her sister’s hand. “Stop worrying, Sis. I’ve saved a bit of money over the years so I can be flexible. If I don’t like it there I can move somewhere else, or I can come back home.” She grinned her most charming grin, one Marcy had succumbed to her entire life. “Don’t rent out my room so fast.”

  “Sorry. I guess I do get carried away.” Marcy shook her head ruefully. “It’s just that you boggle my mind. You’re going to pick up and go. Just like that, when there’s so much to plan.”

  “What’s to plan?” Jenna asked. “Chloe’s got a place for me to stay at least for a while. I’ve got enough money to tide me over until I find work. What more is there?”

  Marcy’s mind whirled. “You’ve got to pack, for example. What will you take? Will you take lots of suitcases or should we mail boxes? You’ll need to change banks. No, maybe you won’t. Is there a branch of your bank in New York? What about your car? Will you take it with you? If you don’t, will you sell it or put it on blocks or just let it sit while you’re gone?”

  Marcy stopped talking as Jenna held her hand up to stem the flow of words. “Sis, relax. It will all work out.”

  Marcy stood and headed for the kitchen, her brain moving at a million miles an hour. “I’m going to make some fresh coffee and get a pad and pencil.” She stopped in the kitchen doorway. “We can begin with a list of what’s to be done.”

  When Jenna smiled her indulgent smile, Marcy said, “Okay, I’m organizing again, but it’s necessary. It keeps my mind busy so I don’t have to think about the hurt.”

  “I know, and I’ll leave all that to you. Let me know what I have to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Jenna, I can’t make decisions like these for you.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Jenna said, “I’ve made the big one, you just get to make the little ones.”

  Marcy huffed an exasperated breath. It had been like this all their lives. She did all the planning and Jenna went along. Their parents had always teased them. Jenna would be in charge of deciding the important things, like foreign policy, campaign finance reform, or whether America should go to Venus. Marcy, they said, would make all the small ones for all of them, like what to have for dinner, what courses to take in school, and where to go on vacation. It had always been her responsibility, one she’d taken on willingly. Hadn’t she?

  As she carefully measured decaffeinated coffee into the white paper filter, Marcy thought about what life would be like for her after her sister was gone. One moment she thought about how empty the house would be, the next she realized that she could have dinner at nine o’clock or leave dirty clothes in the living room if she wanted to. It was going to be difficult but she had to admit that it would have its benefits. She could stop being a constant role model for her sister, trying to teach by example.

  She started the coffee brewing and grabbed a handful of jelly beans from the glass jar on the counter. As she chewed, she got a pad and pencil from the kitchen counter and headed back to the living room, already making notes.

  Glen Howell hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and now sat in the small living room of his tiny condo several miles from the Bryant house. Stretched out in a lounge chair, he tried for the hundredth time to figure out what had gone wrong the previous evening. He’d sensed for several weeks that Jenna was putting him off, trying to avoid his proposal, but he’d figured that when the moment arrived she’d agree. After all, they were so right together.

  He remembered the day they’d met. He’d been stunned, not by her good looks—although she was lovely—but by the force of her intelligence. Not only could she do a running, perfectly correct idiomatic translation of a complex legal conversation, but she did it with a calm style that impressed both him and his counterpart. He had realized at the time that she had sped the negotiations with a few well-thought-out suggestions and had wanted to see more of her, professionally and personally.

  He’d asked her out to dinner and, to his surprise, she’d accepted. They’d begun seeing each other more and more frequently until they had slipped into a comfortable, almost married life. And the sex was good too.

  He traveled back in his mind to the first night they’d made love. Neither of them had been virgins, of course, but they had come together new to each other. Since that evening they’d made love at least once a week. They had tried a few sexual experiments together, but he preferred standard missionary-position lovemaking. Now it was pretty much routine, but he was quite sure she climaxed most of the time.

  If it wasn’t the sex, why had she said no to his proposal? He’d planned the evening so carefully, from the violets on the table to the vintage of the champagne. He’d even arranged for the restaurant to play some of their favorite music, mixed with a little cool, soft jazz. He could still hear it. They’d had such a wonderful time. Finally, over brandies, he’d taken the ring from his pocket and watched her face tighten. He still couldn’t understand what he had seen. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought she’d looked like some cornered animal, like she’d been asked to do something illegal or immoral.

  He remembered exactly what she’d said. “I need time. I need space. I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.” He had no clue what that meant. What kind of space and how much time? Did she really mean six whole months? Thanksgiving? Christmas? He reached for the phone, then pulled his hand back. He loved her, so he’d give her what she needed. But what about what he needed? He picked up the receiver and dialed Jenna’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Marcy. Is she there?” Funny, although the two women teased him about it, he always knew from just a hello which was which. He heard some muffled conversation, then Marcy said, “She is, but I think you’d be better off leaving her alone for a while.”

  Glen sighed and let his shoulders droop. “I want to talk to her, make her understand that I’ll give her whatever time she needs, although, frankly, those will be the longest months of my life. I want her to know, too, that I’ll be there for her whenever she wants to come back.” When, not if. He didn’t want to think about his life without her in it.

  “I think she knows that but I’m afraid that it’ll be a while,” Marcy said, then added, “If ever.” It was said so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it.

  He allowed his body to slump back into his chair. “I know, but we’ll still see each other at work. That’ll have to be enough for now.”

  He heard Marcy’s heavy breath. “Glen, you know I think you’re a great guy, but I have to be honest with you. She’s planning to go away for a while. She’s arranged to move to New York City and stay with an old friend, temporarily. I don’t know what that means for you and her but I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.”

  Shit, Glen thought. She’s leaving. Temporarily. Marcy had said temporarily. “I need to talk to her before she leaves, tell her ... Please.” What could he tell her that she didn’t already know?

  After another moment of muffled conversation, Marcy returned to him. “She won’t talk to you. Not now. Maybe not ever. Maybe you should just move on.”

  Move on? Glen felt his throat close and he swallowed hard. “Is she mad at me for asking her to marry me? I thought she’d be happy.”

  There was a pause. “She’s in a panic right now. She feels that she’s never been by herself so she can’t consider becoming part of a new pair. I sort of know how she feels. We’ve always been
part of a very intimate twosome, one maybe only twins can understand, and now she wants—maybe needs is a better word—needs to be on her own for a while.”

  Glen realized that Marcy was right about the sisters’ closeness. They had gone to college and graduate school together and had lived in their parents’ house ever since returning to Seneca Falls. “Isn’t there anything I can say or do? I could send flowers or something.”

  “Glen, give her some time. I’ll let her know how you feel. I think she knows how much you care but, in my opinion, it would be best if you just let her go.”

  Glen sighed again. “What choice do I have? It’s May now,” he said, and, ticking the months on his fingers, he continued, “so by Thanksgiving, this will all be in the past.”

  “Let’s say that you’ll let her go until Christmas. And, Glen, during that time get out, do things. Don’t sit home and dwell on this. There’s a good chance she won’t be coming back.”

  No. She’ll be coming back. Christmas. She’ll be home for Christmas.

  In a four-story brownstone on Fifty-fifth Street, Chloe Whitman lay stretched out on her bed. She’d invited Jenna without question, but now she wondered. How would the straight-A student from the middle of nowhere react to her lifestyle? “Oh well,” she whispered, running her tiny hands over her sweat-covered body. Time will tell, she thought. With a loud purr, she rolled over and stretched out over the naked man beside her, undulating so her nipples rubbed against his chest, her mound pressed against his rampant erection. “Purr for me, baby,” she growled.

  A long moan made his chest rumble, the vibrations flowing from her nipples through her belly to her soaked pussy. How long could she tease him? she wondered. Maybe just a little longer. She slid her body down the length of his, licking his hairless chest, delving into his belly button and finally arriving at his massive cock. God, he was so hot.

  She flicked her tongue over the end of his enormous erection. She’d never had sex with him before and wondered whether something the size of his penis would fit into her body. Or her mouth. She’d find out part one first. She opened her mouth and sucked gently on the head of his cock, wrapping her lips around and slowly drawing it into her wet cavern. No, she realized, it wouldn’t all fit into her mouth. She could only take the first inch or two inside. Would that mean that he wouldn’t fit into her body either?

  She straddled him, one knee against each side of his ribs and held her body still, drawing out the pleasure, then slowly lowered herself and rubbed her sopping folds with his cock. Would he fit? God, she couldn’t wait to find out. Slowly, ever so slowly she lowered herself, taking first an inch, then two, of his massive erection into her body. Slowly she allowed her body to be stretched to its fullest by him. Then she had him, totally within her. As he moaned again, then bucked his hips, she levered herself up on her knees and dropped onto him again. She squeezed her vaginal muscles and they came together, spasms of heat echoing through her body as she felt his answering pulses.

  Much later, she again thought about Jenna. Oh well, she thought. Time will tell.

  Chapter 2

  The advisor Jenna saw in human resources the following Monday morning was surprised at her sudden decision to leave. “I understand what you mean,” a woman named Henshaw told her as she scanned Jenna’s personnel folder that lay open on her desk. The way the older woman said it, it seemed to Jenna that she didn’t understand at all. “Sometimes you just need to spread your wings and try something new, I suppose. I would love to find some way to convince you not to go. I’ve seldom seen such glowing evaluations.” She closed the folder and gazed at Jenna.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jenna said, flattered by the woman’s kind words, but frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I’m afraid this is something I just have to do.”

  “Is it a matter of money?” When Jenna shook her head, Ms. Henshaw continued. “Are you sure? I think we can come up with a nicer package for you.”

  When Jenna shook her head again, Ms. Henshaw continued, “All right, then. I’m certain we can make this a leave of absence if that’s okay with you. How about we make it six months, renewable for another six if you want it? That way we just might be able to lure you back when you’ve seen the ‘big city.’ ”

  Jenna wanted to throw her “big city” crack in her face, but she realized that a leave of absence was just what she wanted. Freedom with a safety net. “I think that might work out just fine,” she said, pasting a congenial smile on her face.

  For the first time, the woman’s face softened. “Good. You know about your non-compete, of course. You can’t work for anyone in any of the businesses AAJ’s involved in. No trade secrets.”

  “Of course not,” Jenna said, disgusted to think that Ms. Henshaw thought for one minute that she’d violate any confidences.

  “Well, that’s fine, then,” the woman said, her professional smile reappearing.

  During the next two weeks Jenna and Marcy spent a considerable amount of time at the mall. Although Ms. Henshaw’s “big city” crack had enraged Jenna, she realized that she needed clothes more fitting to life in New York City and her conversations with Chloe had reinforced that fact. Her friend had called the agency she’d found in the paper and relayed to Jenna that there were always temporary openings for experienced translators and the daily fee mentioned was substantial. Of course she’d be paying rent for the first time in her life, and living expenses were going to be more in New York too, but Jenna would cross those bridges when she came to them.

  Since most of the time she’d gone to work at AAJ casually dressed in slacks or jeans, cotton shirts or bulky sweaters, she’d need more businesslike clothing for working in Manhattan. The sisters roamed the malls after work, picking up pantsuits with matching, sheer sweaters, slender skirts with matching vests, and, of course, high-heeled shoes and purses to match. In one boutique, Jenna found a beautiful, slender leather belt and, as she handed it to the check-out clerk, she watched Marcy jot down a note in a small notebook. “What are you writing?”

  “Just keeping a list of everything and checking what you’ll pack and what you’ll have to mail.”

  Jenna quickly snatched the notebook from her sister’s hand. “Stop making lists. It will all come together. I promise.”

  Marcy smiled ruefully. “I know. It just helps me to keep from crying. If I can make it all seem like a project, I don’t think about the distance from here to New York City.”

  “We each have unlimited nationwide calling on our cell phones, so I know we’ll talk often,” Jenna said around the lump that had formed in her throat. She handed the notebook back. “Okay, Sis, keep your lists. And I love you for it.” She took her sister’s hand and squeezed.

  At odd times Jenna found her mind wandering back to Glen. She saw his handsome face, hair falling over his forehead, his deep brown eyes, the sexy dimple in his chin. Was she being a complete ass? Maybe she should call him, try to get him to understand, to wait for her. Wait for what? For her to come back from her silly little excursion to the “big city”? It wasn’t just a whim, she told herself over and over. She needed this and it was best for Glen to forget about her. In her heart she halfway hoped he was pining away for her and would wait, desolate, until she came home, if she came home. Whenever she had thoughts like that, however, she chastised herself for her uncharitable ideas and quickly wished that he’d find someone wonderful and create a new relationship.

  The Friday before her flight, her friends at work threw a lunch at the best restaurant in town, oddly the same one where, two weeks before, she’d turned Glen down. Everyone brought gag gifts, and by the time all the packages had been opened Jenna had four cans of mace, several sets of sexy lingerie, and a package of locks for her apartment door. One woman had bought an I Love New York tote bag and filled it with a flashlight, candles, batteries in three sizes, bottles of water, and over a dozen different varieties of candy. “An emergency kit for blackouts,” she explained. Jenna felt badly that Marcy was
n’t at the celebration. “Those are your friends,” she’d said. “Let them enjoy you, and you have fun with them.”

  It seemed only moments after the night Glen had proposed that Jenna was at the airport, heading for a commuter flight to LaGuardia. As they approached the security checkpoint, the two women hugged. “This is as far as you can go,” Jenna said. “I’ll call ...”

  “I know. When you can. I won’t count on it and I promise I won’t worry.”

  Jenna took her sister by the shoulders and turned her back the way they had come. “No long good-byes. So long, Sis,” she said, lightly slapping her on the bottom.

  “So long, Jen.”

  Jenna put her shoulder bag and purse on the conveyor and walked through the metal detector. As she picked up her things, she looked back. Marcy was waving and, with a damp-eyed grin, Jenna waved back.

  Jenna had been in Manhattan several times before on business so she knew her way to baggage claim at LaGuardia Airport. The weather was perfect for a Memorial Day weekend, with temperatures in the high seventies and a clear blue sky with just a few white, puffy clouds. With the one suitcase she’d brought rolling behind her and her carry-on bag and purse over her shoulder, she made her way to the taxi stand and gave the driver Chloe’s address. As the taxi drove toward the Midtown Tunnel, Jenna reflected on what she had begun. She’d left her job, packed several boxes and sent them to Chloe’s brownstone, and talked to her friend several times, most recently just the previous evening.