by C. C. Morian
A hint of a smile flashed ever so briefly, if she hadn’t known him she would have missed it. “Janet.”
Like two old friends.
Like two lovers, needing only a word to reconnect.
The sounds of the bar disappeared, the bar itself disappeared, all Janet heard and saw was Brad, filling her space even more than he had done at the party.
“Why are we here, Janet?”
“Why would you want us to be here?” Janet wanted it to sound like a tease, but it came out as a promise.
“Not to disappoint you, but I don’t sleep with married women.”
“My husband knows I’m here.” Yet she should have said, I’m not here to sleep with you. That’s what she meant, right? Janet shook her head, not certain herself if she was denying she wanted to sleep with him, or just adding strength to her resistance.
Brad’s eyebrows lifted, for him, this was real surprise. “Really.”
“Really.”
“So you told him what exactly? You were going to have a drink with an old friend? That doesn’t fool anyone, especially a guy. It’s just woman speak for a man she used to sleep with.”
“Is that what you think I did?”
Brad rewarded her with another quick smile. “You always had a way of shifting the conversation, meanings within meanings. Are you asking about what I thought you did when we were together, or about what you told your husband?”
“Maybe both.”
“You really want to relive the past, now that you are married?”
Janet hesitated. What did she want? She’d relived the past with Brad in her own mind, her body had relived it, felt it, her body had compelled her to touch herself, it had been so real.
“Let’s talk,” she said, and taking him by the hand, she led Brad toward one of the back booths. Never since she’d been married had the touch of a man’s hand seemed so personal.
Just as they arrived at the only empty booth, three men, looking slightly inebriated, reached the booth at the same time. Brad stepped in front of Janet. “Our booth,” he said, his voice quietly firm, yet clearly carrying over the noise in the bar.
“We got here first,” sneered one of the other men.
Brad turned to him, and the man withered under his gaze.
“Come on, let’s go to the bar,” the man said, and the others followed.
Brad ushered Janet into the seat. “They did get here first,” she said.
“We could offer it back to them, go to the bar ourselves,” Brad said, not sitting down.
“Law of the jungle?” prodded Janet. “Trying to impress me?”
“Do I need to?”
Janet smiled. “Nothing would ever have happened between us if you hadn’t. Let’s stay here.” She wondered what side of the booth Brad would pick. Would he slide in next to her, intimate?
Brad sat across from her, and Janet felt a twinge of disappointment. What did it matter? This was more appropriate anyway.
A waitress came over to take their drink order. “A vodka martini and a Remy, neat,” said Brad.
When the waitress had left Janet said, “You remembered.”
“Hard to forget anything about you.”
Janet flushed. It wasn’t like she’d never received a compliment before, even one with the deeper meaning within Brad’s words. Yet she hadn’t been spoken to like this since before she had been married. Mason was always saying nice things, but hearing it from another man, a man who had reason to know, who wasn’t just guessing, or flirting, was something else.
She shook off the thoughts. Of course Brad was only flirting. Just making her feel good. Two could play that game, a little flirting would be fine, even for a married woman. “I remember you too.”
“What about me?”
And with just those words it all came flooding back, the good and the bad, filling in spaces, memories of their times together, mostly sex, the heat, the silences, the barriers. Barriers she had created, barriers she had erected to keep from getting hurt again. Had Brad tried to tear down her walls, and she hadn’t realized it? Hadn’t wanted him to?
What might have happened if she had been open to him? Might she be married to him instead of Mason?
Janet didn’t want to even consider it. “More than you think,” she admitted. Then hastily added, “I’m happily married.” Like an excuse for her admission.
“Yet you’re here.”
“Just because I’m married I can’t see an old friend?”
“A lot of men don’t like that. How do you feel about your husband seeing women he’s slept with?”
“He has. I don’t have a problem with it.”
“Did he tell you before he did it?”
“Yes.”
“Then he thought you might have a problem with it. A lot of women do. Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked.”
“Maybe he was just being considerate. That thought ever occur to you?” As soon as she said the words, Janet regretted them. She’d never given Brad a chance to be considerate, at least outside the bedroom.
The waitress came with the drinks, interrupting her apology. Brad lifted his glass in a toast, the gesture changing the mood, redirecting the conversation. “To old friends.”
Janet smiled, he was a smooth as ever. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
“Verbally, you mean.”
Janet sipped her drink, not responding, making him wonder. Daring him to wonder.
She was loving this, not only because of the way Brad was making her feel, sexy, alluring, desired in his own cool way, but because even if she left right now she’d be able to tell Mason a wonderful story, how she had flirted with an old friend, an ex lover. She was sure Mason would be excited.
Brad seemed to read her mind. “So. . .tonight. Your husband knowing you are here. Just catching up with an old friend? Is that what you told him?”
What to tell Brad? Why not the truth? “He saw us together at the art gallery.”
“We were just talking.”
“He sensed—a history.”
“Why didn’t he come over?”
“He—wanted to watch.”
“To see what you might do? He doesn’t trust you?”
“That’s not it. If he didn’t trust me I don’t think he’d want me to be here.”
“Could he stop you?”
What was Brad asking? If Mason had the strength to stop her? Or if she had the power to resist seeing Brad?
“All he had to do was ask. Actually—he suggested we get together.”
“That’s a new one.” Brad took a sip of his drink, thoughtful.
“I’m not sure it’s that uncommon.”
“How many times have you done this?”
“You’re the first.”
“Why me?”
“You know.” Janet waved her hand, a gesture meant to be all encompassing, yet it communicated a vagueness. “You shouldn’t ask a woman anything even remotely like that question. How many times.”
“Why not?”
“It’s—how would you feel about it, being asked that?”
Brad shrugged. “I wouldn’t care.”
“Really? How many women have you been with since me?”
“Three.”
“In 10 years?” Janet didn’t believe it. She’d slept with more men than that between Brad and Mason.
“I’m picky.”
“Were you always?”
“For sex. Only the best.”
Janet smiled, it was a nice compliment in a way. “Thank you.” She fiddled with her drink glass. “So you only found three women you expected would be good in bed since then?”
“I’m tired of all that. I want more.”
So Brad meant that Janet had been good enough for sex, but not something else. This shouldn’t have bothered her, not now, but it did. “More?”
“I’m tired. I want to settle down. Get married.”
Janet shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. After all, she had do
ne just that, settled down. Still, she had fully expected that Brad would be married by now. The words almost forced from her, she whispered, “Why didn’t you ask me?”
Brad laughed. “You were too wild for me.”
That stung. “What?”
“Sure. Look at us. You’re married and you are here with me, flirting—don’t bother to deny it—and your husband knows. I want to be with just one woman. We’re different.”
“Yet you are here,” said Janet, still stunned over Brad’s accusation. Wanting to believe it was only a lashing out, a defensive resentment, and not the truth.
“When I saw you—a lot of memories came back.”
“About the sex, you mean.”
“That’s all we had, right?”
Janet knew what Brad was asking. Had she loved him? Did she want him now, was she ready to give him what he wanted?
She knew the answer, but considered it for a few moments, she owed Brad that. When she finally spoke she was sure she sounded as confident as she felt. “That’s all. I love my husband. I can’t give you that.” She paused, wondering how she would feel if those words were spoken to her. “I’m sorry.”
Brad looked away briefly, Janet couldn’t read his eyes. When he turned back to her his face was impassive. “Don’t be. I didn’t expect it then, and I don’t expect it now.”
Janet raised her glass again. “To old friends.”
“Rediscovered.” Brad drained his drink. “I still don’t quite know why you are here. Some kind of kink? Are you doing this for your husband?”
The truth seemed to be working, so Janet stuck with it. “Mostly. For me too.”
“And what do you want to happen?”
Now she wasn’t certain what the truth was. “I’m not sure. This might be enough.”
“Might?”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“But you’ll wonder, won’t you?”
Another thing Brad hadn’t lost, the ability to get right to the heart of it, his confidence allowing him to always say what he was thinking. “Maybe,” she whispered.
“How will you find out?” He sounded genuinely interested.
Suddenly, so was Janet. Impulsively, although a part of her had known it might come to this, she slid out of the booth and moved to Brad’s side of the table, the leather seat slick on her legs, even more so than in the car, that had been decadent, this was downright sinful.
Without giving herself time for second thoughts, Janet leaned over and kissed him.
Brad didn’t resist, but he didn’t really kiss her back.
Not the response Janet was expecting. Maybe not the response she was secretly hoping for.
“I’ve been kissed by married women before.”
“I thought you said you didn’t do anything with married women?”
“You see someone at a party. They give you a kiss. Big deal.”
Janet’s mouth reached for his again, hard, her tongue pressing against his closed lips, driven by some competitive part of her, some need to be seen as enticing, some desire to be wanted. Still Brad didn’t respond, he didn’t push her away, but for what seemed like an eternity he did not kiss her back. Janet suddenly imagined everyone in the room looking at them, but right now she didn’t care.
Brad’s lips opened just a fraction, his mouth moved ever so slightly, a hint of a kiss. Janet smiled inwardly, even with this tiny participation it was as if she had won a contest. She pulled away. “They kiss you like that?”
“No. But it’s still just a kiss.”
“Just? Even from me?”
“Did you get your answer? Will that be enough?”
Janet had to think about that. Before tonight—no, before all this had come up with Mason, she would have known the answer, she really hadn’t had any interest in another man. And even now, here with Brad, still so handsome, what was forefront in her mind was being back with her husband, of what she would tell him. If she stopped right now she’d be able to tell him all of it, all of what had been said, what had transpired, even the kiss.
And yet she instinctively knew Mason would ask the same question that Brad had. Would she wonder if it was enough? Would she want more?
There was only one way to find out.
“I’ll still wonder,” she admitted, the words more a signal than even her kiss.
“And how do you propose to resolve that?”
In that instant the evening changed course. She’d been on an thrilling but safe car ride but was suddenly spinning out of control. Janet needed to stop it right now. Not stop Brad, he was, oddly enough, being the perfect gentleman. She had to stop herself. To rein in her desires.
Perhaps she was being influenced by her proximity to Brad, pressing up against his powerful body, his scent in her nostrils, his taste on her lips. She should move away.
Yet she didn’t.
She should leave right now, she should talk about this with Mason, discover together what this did for them. It would be good, the sharing, she was sure of it.
But Janet was also sure Mason would ask the question, whether she wanted more. Would she be willing go through this again to find out?
Would Brad be so calm if he knew she wasn’t wearing underwear, if he knew she had bought new lingerie for him? Janet studied his face. He seemed calm, but that was Brad, she knew for a fact he could switch from this coolness to a passionate lover in a heartbeat.
It was his calmness that did her in. She wanted a reaction, she wanted—no, she needed— his approval, his appreciation, his confirmation that she was still hot, that she still turned him on.
Brad’s exterior calmness was forcing her to become the predator instead of the prey.
At that moment, no man’s touch had ever excited her more. Not a hand on her breast, not a finger in her pussy. Just a leg pressed against hers.
Now she had to move, not because she wanted to get away, but because she couldn’t sit still, she was growing hot, wet. She shifted ever so slightly in the seat, not away, but against Brad. Even that small movement was enough to rub fabric against her body, caressing her, hardening her nipples. The clips of her garter nicked against her skin, a reminder of her sexy lingerie.
Do it now, screamed her body.
Wait, cautioned her mind.
It was no contest. “We could go upstairs,” she said. “To find out.”
Brad made her wait, not to make her suffer, she thought, not to make her beg, but to give her a chance to change her mind.
It was the first glimpse she had that he had perhaps changed.
“I want to be sure that’s what you want,” he said. “Prove it.”
Janet laughed in spite of herself. “That’s what my husband said.”
“You’re asking me to go upstairs to a hotel room, and you bring up your husband?”
Janet pursed her lips, but not for a kiss. She stood up abruptly, standing strong, standing tall, feeling her wetness spreading, wondering what this interaction looked like to anyone else in the room. “Are you going to psychoanalyze my marriage, or are we going to do this?”
The smile again, Janet wondering if Brad was jerking her around, all that talk about wanting to get married, sleeping with only three women. She’d been telling the truth, but had he?
She didn’t think Brad had ever lied to her before. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.
“I’m going to ask you to wait here,” she said. “If you are in this booth when I come back, I don’t want to hear any more questions.”
Brad’s raised eyebrow was his only response.
Janet walked through the bar, full of purpose, but not so distracted that she didn’t notice all the men staring at her. Could they smell her musk?
She left the bar via the lobby and walked up to the check in desk. “I’d like a room please.”
An older woman, dressed in the conservative hotel jacket, asked, “Do you have a reservation?”
Janet was about to make up some excuse, she had been
drinking too much, she didn’t want to drive home, something like that. She just wasn’t in the mood for bullshit and excuses. “If a man came up and asked for a room, would you ask him the same question?” Daring the woman to call her a prostitute. Or a slut.
“Yes, I would,” replied the woman.
Janet let it go, she had other things on her mind. “No, I don’t. I wasn’t expecting to need a room until just now. An old friend,” she added.
To the woman’s credit, she didn’t say a word about Janet’s large diamond and wedding ring, even though Janet handed over her credit card with her left hand.
And the woman didn’t ask about luggage either.
Janet took the key card and headed back toward the entrance to the bar. At the door she stopped, just feet away from the lobby entrance.
Two doors. Two paths.
One, out to the warm evening air, and back to her husband.
The other, to the bar and Brad.
To warmth or heat.
To love or to sex.
The lobby door would still be there in a little while. I’ll just take both, she thought.
Janet walked back into the bar.
Again she hesitated, her eyes straight ahead. If she looked at the booth now, and Brad wasn’t there, she could just leave, save herself the embarrassment of being stood up. Had anyone been spying on them? Would another man sense his chance, move in for the kill?
If that happened, what would she do? Would she go up to the hotel room with a stranger? She didn’t think she could do that. But in her mood, and aroused as she was, if she had been stood up by Brad, she couldn’t really be certain.
Would Mason have enjoyed being here, to see her with Brad? To see her kiss him?
Again, she avoided the dilemma. She glided through the tables, this time making no effort to avoid brushing men in the crowded space, leaving behind of wake of desire. Her eyes were on the floor, she wouldn’t look up until she reached the booth.
Brad was still there, waiting. Which could only mean one thing. He wanted her.
Janet tossed the key card on the table. “Proof enough for you?”
I promised myself that I would not be waiting by the door for Janet to come home. Treat it just like any other night, me working in my home office, her in the city, maybe stopping for a quick drink with a friend.
