Cake Love: All Things Payne

by Elizabeth Lynx

  Jamie holds his hands up, his gaze widening. “Look, Morgana, I was only joking. I am just as serious as you. I'm sorry if I went too far. This has happened to me before. I guess with my name people think I am a girl, so I am stuck in this situation sometimes. We will talk to someone tomorrow together and try to straighten this out. No hard feelings." Jamie sticks out his hand and I reluctantly shake it, still weary of him. Men say things all the time, but don't always follow through.

  This whole situation, having someone I am working with hit on me, reminds me of Henrik. Despite the whirlwind of the past few days, getting ready for the trip here, he has rarely been out of my thoughts. I miss him. Gazing up into Jamie’s soft eyes, I know Henrik would hate him. Funny, but this thought makes me smile.

  "To make up for it, how about I take you out to dinner. My treat!" His finger goes into the air as he turns and heads to the kitchen to throw on his shirt, jacket, and put on his shoes.

  "We need to eat anyway. Sure. Do you know any good places around here?" I shrug my jacket back on and walk toward the front door as he opens it.

  "Not really. I'm from Los Angeles. Worked at the Mimir location in LA before getting into the program. This is actually my first time in New York, but I figured between the two of us we can find something." His face breaks into a lazy grin giving him a boyish appearance. He adjusts his faded jean jacket which is covering a vintage Rolling Stones tee shirt.

  Once we have bolted up the apartment, which has six locks on the door, we take the elevator and are out on the street in no time. Walking a few blocks and taking in the neighborhood, we finally stop in an old alehouse that looks like it dates back to the seventeenth century. We grab a table next to an old wood burning stove and peruse our menus.

  After the waitress, dressed in cut off jean shorts and a thick brown wool sweater, with a severe black bob haircut, takes our order, I glance around the bar. There is sawdust on the floor and old pictures and newspaper clippings line the wall. Pictures, some of old presidents, plaster every inch of the dark, wood paneled walls.

  When the waitress brings our food, she explains how lucky we are that they just started serving food this past month. Before the place only served beer. Considering the food menu consists of only two options, a hamburger or a hotdog, I didn't think we were that lucky. I got the hamburger, which was average, and Jamie ordered the hot dog.

  While eating, I get a strange sense someone is watching me, but every time I look around I only see the people at the bar facing the wall and some other tables where no one I recognize are deep in conversation. Yet, there is a scent in the air that warms me and has my mind filling with Henrik’s twitching lips just before he makes me bend over. I rub my forehead trying to shrug it off. It’s just exhaustion, nothing more.

  "What's wrong," Jamie asks before washing down the last bite of his hot dog with the dark beer he ordered.

  "Do you get an eerie feeling in here? I just feel like someone is watching me."

  He pokes his head around, then shrugs. “No. Probably the time change, your body needs to adjust.”

  "There is only one hour difference between Chicago and New York. I think I am fine."

  Jamie takes out his wallet and throws some money on the table before he rises. “We should get back, then take a nap together, which might help your jet-lag.”

  He says the words so fast I almost don't catch it. We are heading toward the door when I snap my head to him.

  "What? I am not taking a nap with you," I say incredulously, disbelief at his line make my eyebrows furrow.

  "Oh, you caught that huh? Well a guy has got to try." Jamie winks at me as he places his hand on my back ushering me outside. I assume that wink and devilish grin of his has women melting into his arms, but as handsome as he is, I can only think of the man I left back in Chicago.

  "Son of a bitch!" I hear a guy yell from the bar as we step out onto the street, and turn my head back to see what is happening. Unfortunately it is too dark inside and even as I squint my eyes they have already adjusted to the light outside. I shake my head and walk back with Jamie thinking I do need a nap because I kept smelling Henrik’s cologne in that bar.

  Chapter 3

  Morgana's Problem: Her Bathroom Break

  Guess who is still my roommate as we begin week four of this program? That's right, it's Jamie. There was a glitch in the computer system that matched up roommates, which put him into the female category. Unfortunately, there are no spare rooms or spare roommates, so unless someone leaves the program, which I doubt will happen at this point, I am stuck with him.

  My parents and grandma are visiting, along with Aria, and we are out at dinner at the restaurant at their hotel. My parents splurged on this trip and decided to stay in a fancy hotel, so the restaurant is four stars. Everything is dark gray circle patterned wallpaper along the walls and deep burgundy leather upholstering. The sleek lines and geometric patterns to the tiling on the floor and table runner give the dark coloring a lighter feel.

  I'm studying the menu when I hear my dad bellow, "We are paying. I don't want to hear a word of protest and that goes for you too Aria. I am so proud of my baby girl. You set your mind to something all those years ago and here you are! Only thirty and in just a few weeks you will be an executive with Mimir."

  Since we haven’t received our drinks yet, Dad raises his water glass; his navy suit jacket a little small for him as his sleeve rides up. His white shirt underneath looks brand new as it practically glows under the dim lighting like a flashlight. My mom must have made him buy a new shirt for the trip. His clothes, now that he is retired, consist of old worn tee shirts and sweatpants. I am assuming the navy blazer is from his working days.

  "To my sweet daughter who is the strongest woman I know! But just in case I got you this." My mom, in a pretty floral print sweater and simple gold chain, raises her water glass but uses her other hand to dig into her purse to slide a small brown box toward me. I glance at Aria who frowns and shakes her head to let me know she has no idea what my mother bought me.

  I open the gift and it's a small key ring with a red metal cylinder attached and a black plastic latch at the end.

  "What is this?" I ask picking up the small object that has some weight to it.

  The only thing I can think is it's a vibrator, but I am sure my mom would have given me that in private. We had the talk when I was ten, but at sixteen, we had the talk again. That time she gave me a vibrator and told me to learn my body. She explained that every woman is different, so if I ever expect a man to know what to do, I have to be able to show him what I like.

  This conversation mortified me, of course. My eyes glued to the worn Barbie rug I had in my bedroom, while my face turned the color of the rug. I took the vibrator with shaky hands and a few days later my curiosity got the better of me, and I used my first vibrator, gifted by my mom, in my childhood bedroom. It was a bit of a mind-fuck at first, but I haven’t looked back since. I named him Ben and loved him as my first mechanical boyfriend. About five years ago, I had a funeral for him when he gave off some sparks and not the sexy kind.

  He's buried next to my old pet fish in my parents’ backyard. I house sat that weekend while my parents went on vacation to The Dells in Wisconsin. I held the ceremony and Aria laid a white carnation in honor of Ben.

  "It's pepper spray. You can never be too careful in a big city like New York, all alone." Mom looks at me meaningfully and pats my hand, and we all clink our glasses for the toast. A toast, to pepper spraying the shit out of someone. Huzzah!

  "I lived in Chicago for years but you never gave me pepper spray while I lived there. Why now?"

  "We lived right down the road. If you needed help you could always call us. But here, we are a two hour flight away, how can we help when you need us?"

  My mom is shaking her head, looking at me like crazy is the new black, and so her logic should make total sense, before returning her attention back to the menu.

  "Yes but..." The waiter
arriving cuts off my rant.

  We place our order. My father and I decide on the Prime Rib, while Grandma and Aria get the salmon, and my mom always has a burger. No matter how fancy we go, she will insist on a burger. Unless they serve hot dogs, then she will get a dog. Though I have a feeling she might turn her nose up at New York hot dogs. We passed a hot dog vendor while I took a walk with them earlier in the day and she snorted and rolled her eyes as he asked if we wanted a hot dog. I heard her mumble under her breath, “Nothing beats a Chicago dog.”

  "Mom, the pepper spray is to ward off an attacker. How am I to contact you and Dad, and you come to help me before the attacker hurts me?"

  "Exactly!" She raises her hands in the air, waving them at me and turns her attention to Grandma, who is chuckling and shaking her head.

  Sometimes, I don't get my mom. She is in her own little world.

  "So, your roommate is hot!" Aria leans in and whispers rather loudly.

  I nod. Yeah, Jamie is good looking. Very good looking. The problem is, he knows it. He thinks he is the sexiest thing to walk the Earth since Prince first stepped into platform boots. Oh, and he's a tremendous flirt. He has hit on every single female in the program. Most of which have fallen for his charms.

  While I don't mind so much that he's like that, but it makes me a little nauseated that he uses his father's death as his opening line to pick up the ladies. It's just so slimy.

  Other than that, he is quite smart and we work well together on our projects. At the beginning of the program, they teamed us up in groups of three. It's me, Jamie and another guy, Matthew. As a team, we work well and our projects always please the instructor.

  Matthew is married. How do I know this? He tells everyone. Points to his wedding band and tells anyone listening how wonderful his wife is. So, he obviously isn't secure in his marriage. I feel bad for the guy. I think he is a little afraid of her. I overheard a conversation they had once on the phone. He just nodded a lot with plenty of 'yes dear' and 'of course dear' peppering the conversation.

  "Yeah and he knows it. If you are interested, I can let him know. He will be more than happy to tap your ass, as he so eloquently refers to sex...all the time." I roll my eyes as I play with my spoon but glance up and see Aria's eyes darting around the room nervously.

  "Uh, that's okay. I am taking a break from the whole sleeping around thing. I just wanted to mention that I approve if you were interested in him. So, feel free to ‘tap his ass’ if you wish. Ha...ha...ha."

  Aria's nervous giggle is weird. I have never seen her uncomfortable talking about sex, or men, or sex with men. Something is up with her.

  "Is something going on Aria? Oh my God! Do you have VD?"

  She frowns at me shaking her head.

  "No! I don't have a disease. There is just a guy I like and I kind of want to only be with him. That's all."

  "WHAT?!!" I shriek and my parents turn to see what is going on.

  "Oh my God! Aria has a boyfriend! I never thought this day would come. How was I not aware of this? Is he a vampire or something, only coming out at night?" I laugh as I look back at her as she cringes.

  "Wow. That is great news Aria. Here’s to Aria and her new love!" My dad announces picking up his glass again. He is in his element. There is nothing he loves more, other than baseball and old war movies, than making toasts. I remember in ninth grade I came home and told my dad I dissected a frog in science class. He grabbed a beer, gave me a root beer, and toasted to my dissected frog.

  "Love is overrated!" My grandma blurts out while folding her arms over her chest. Which, I might add is looking pleasantly plumped up today. Her very low cut plum colored wrap dress makes her look much younger than her seventy some years. Her blue hair is up in an elegant French twist and long gold earrings dangle from her ears, accentuating her long neck. If I didn't know better, I would think my grandma is trying to get her groove on. She’s also eyeing every male in the room in the twenty-five and above age bracket as if they were a delectable dessert.

  Grandma doesn’t look happy with Aria’s news. She likes to win and once she has her mind set to something she won't back down. She is going to have me and Aria marry each other if it's the last thing she does.

  "Well, I think love is a beautiful thing Aria. I am very happy for you. I hope you bring him to the welcome home dinner I am having in two weeks when Morgana comes home. We would love to meet him."

  My mom smiles over at Aria who appears to be having some sort of panic attack as her chest rises and falls rapidly.

  "Uh, I need to get some fresh air for a few minutes. I'll be right back." Aria stumbles up and races toward the restrooms, her green swing dress shimmying as she goes.

  She is just not used to dealing with relationships with men. I think she might be a little overwhelmed from all of the attention. I give her a few minutes and then excuse myself from the table to look for her. After finding the women's restroom, I push open the door to a brightly lit but darkly decorated room. The long room has brown subway tiles lining the walls, and dark beige granite counters with three steel sinks. The dark beige compliments the cream-colored stalls on the far side of the room. The first two stalls are wide open, but the last one, the handicapped stall, is firmly closed.

  Looking under the door, I don't see feet but I hear ragged breathing.

  "Come on Aria, we won't talk about your boyfriend anymore if you don't want us too. Everyone was just excited that you found someone. You have to let us have our moment." I giggle as I swing open the door.

  My jaw almost hits the ground as my head begins to hum. I'm in shock.

  "Hello Morgana," Henrik says as he hops down from the toilet.

  He looks good, but when doesn’t the man look fantastic. I'm trying to find my voice and all I can do is squeak in response. My eyes sweep over his perfectly tailored, coffee colored linen suit. His blue and white polka dot tie brings out the color of his eyes, which I hate that I notice. Damn it, why does he still have to look so sexy hiding in a women’s restroom?

  "What...what are you doing here Hen...Mr. Payne?" I catch myself just before I say his name, remembering distinctly his reaction the last time I said it to him.

  He winces as I utter it, and I feel a small bit of satisfaction as he realizes what a jerk he was with that. Henrik runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh.

  "I am following you." He straightens and clasps his hands in front of himself, as if his statement is the most obvious thing in the world.

  "Okay. That's not normal." I snort and roll my eyes.

  "I..uh...wanted to make sure you were okay here, in New York."

  "As you can see, I am just fine Mr. Payne. I am two weeks away from finishing the Executive Development Program, no thanks to you, so everything is a-ok!" I place my hands on my hips and let go of the door. It proceeds to swing into me and knock me a little inside the handicap stall.

  Henrik is now only a few inches from me and I can smell his earthy spice scent emanating from him. My body reacts to his heat and images of our time together, specifically the intimate moments, flood my brain. I remember how firm his hand was as it grabbed my ass, and the thrill I would get to hear his deep voice explain what he was going to do to me.

  "I am happy for you Morgana. This is what you always wanted and here you are." He reaches his hand towards my face and brushes his fingers across my cheek. I flinch and turn away.

  “This isn’t your office, Mr. Payne. You can’t just touch me whenever you want anymore.” I turn my head and look straight into his eyes, willing my voice to come out confident and strong. “Or steal my ideas.”

  I can't tell you what I expected his reaction to be. Maybe fear that I knew or utter denial, but I never thought he would give me a small smile and nod, as if accepting this uncomfortable truth.

  "Yeah, that was necessary." Henrik shrugs.

  Necessary? What a bastard! He felt it was necessary to steal my idea to save his job? I suppose he also found it necessary to pla
y with my vagina the past six months and then toss me aside like it never happened after each time!

  "Fuck you!" I dig my finger into his chest and yell in his face.

  Just as I am about to turn to leave, he seizes my wrist. The door to the bathroom opens and I hear two women chatting.

  "Please Morgana, don't go," he whispers in my ear. His hot breath tickles the sensitive spot just below my earlobe and the heat from his mouth is like a soft caress.

  His words seize me. I have never heard Henrik say please before, let alone beg. As I look back at him, I see pain in his eyes. He tugs me close so the warmth from his body cradles my skin. A shiver dances over me and heat pulsates to the tips of my breasts before causing my core to ache. His finger pushes up my chin and his lips are just an inch away.

  "I miss you Morgana. I need to explain why I did what I did." He sighs and lowers his head to mine while curling his fingers around the back of my neck. His thumb rubs my collarbone and a barely audible moan escapes my lips.

  He must emit some specialized pheromone that renders me helpless to his touch. I get within three feet of Henrik and my brain starts to misfire.

  "You look so beautiful tonight," he whispers as his other hand trails my navy lace cocktail dress and comes to rest on my hip. His hand slowly moves back until he is cupping my ass, giving it a hard squeeze. I gasp, pulling my head back slightly to stare up into his darkening eyes.

  My mouth refuses to move for fear of what might come out. I want to stop him, but at the same time, I want to tell him to never stop touching me. He knows this; it's probably written all over my face. Instead, he watches me without a sound but keeps moving, waiting for me to tell him to stop. Of course, I don't say a word.

  His hand slips down and under my dress, sliding up my thigh. I'm breathing hard now, and I already know when his fingers reach their destination I will be soaked for him.

  The tips of his fingers lightly brush past the edge of my lace panties before slipping inside. I moan as they slide along my slick folds. Henrik closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. His other hand moves from my neck and curls into my hair, tugging until my head is pushed back.