Once Jack had his fill of the slip, he’d nod at her and she’d slip it off, stepping out of it one high-heeled shoe after the other. She handed him the slip and he put it to his nose where it would stay until she was finished. Now in just bra and full, old-lady panties with an old-fashioned garter belt, she turned her back to him when he motioned for her to do so and began the next, most exciting part of her performance. She did as he directed, and when she was facing the front windows of her apartment, she reached up under the garter belt for the band of her underpants and began to pull them down. She bent over at the waist and pulled them down over her knees, stepping out of them.
“Stay bent over,” he said, and a little thrill went to her chest. “Spread yourself apart.” She did as he asked, and then heard him drop to his knees behind her and go right to her with his mouth. He pushed her to the couch so that she lay across the seat, and then she heard his zipper and felt him push up against her. If only all my old lady girlfriends could see me now, she thought. She had her hands in front of her face and the thrill she got each time she heard him moan and grunt and push her deeper into the down-filled sofa cushions, well, it was better than anything, except maybe the orgasm. She could do it for herself, but it would never, ever feel as good as when he did it for her.
11
Sandra finished having breakfast with Tom and when he left for his mother’s, decided she would make the call to Pam. It had been several weeks since they had spoken, and longer since she had seen Pam. Pam answered on the first ring.
“I’m thinking of selling my half of the business,” Sandra said right after they exchanged pleasantries. “You get first right of refusal, according to Jack’s will, so I’m bothering you on a Saturday morning. With Peter hanging around, I’m never sure if my calls are private in that office.”
“Wow, already?” Pam asked, surprised that Sandra would come to this decision so soon. “I guess I can see how that place might drive a person away.”
“It is pretty hairy there,” Sandra said, not sure if she should confess the real reason, and then decided that being honest was the best policy; it wasn’t the company that was forcing the decision on her. “But that’s not why I’m selling out. It’s a great company, well run, thanks to Peter now, but it’s my personal life. I’m afraid Tom must feel threatened by it. He won’t admit it, but I’m smart enough to see that my owning a multimillion dollar company that was left to me might be intimidating.” She left out by my former lover.
But Pam wasn’t stupid. She knew right away what Sandra was getting at and although she didn’t voice it, Pam thought that it was small-minded of Tom to expect Sandra to conduct her life so that he wasn’t threatened. Their days of having opinions about each other’s lives were over, and Pam was glad of it. But she wasn’t going to give Sandra an answer today about the business.
“You must have thought long and hard about it. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Send me your proposal, okay? I will take it to the attorney and talk to Brent and Lisa about it. Jack was pretty specific about what was to happen if you didn’t want the business. I don’t remember exactly what was stipulated, but it should make an exchange fairly easy,” Pam said. She remembered exactly what the will said, and it would make any transactions work in her favor. The problem was that she didn’t know if she wanted the company, and if she didn’t, Sandra would have a devil of a time unloading it unless Peter wanted it, because half the profits would always go to Pam. The generous draw would have to be enough to entice any potential buyers. Pam was confident Peter would want it if Brent didn’t.
“I’ll talk to the company attorney on Monday,” Sandra answered, thinking, it will be a relief to be out from under that burden. But would Tom still have a problem if I continued to work there? Unless she was allowed to stay on as an employee, she would need to find another job if she sold Lane, Smith and Romney. Another problem was that, although she had only been collecting the draw since June, she’d gotten used to no longer having money concerns. Going back to a researcher’s salary worried her. Tom’s police detective salary certainly wouldn’t support them both. Maybe she should play the money card as a way to get him to work on his feelings of inferiority and pride, which she was sure were at the root of the problems they were having. “I wish things had been different between us, Pam,” Sandra admitted sadly. “I guess there is just too much baggage for us to get past.”
“For us, and for Tom,” Pam reminded her. “If I can forget, you’d think he could.” It was uncharacteristic of Pam to brandish self-righteousness, but she had had it with Tom and Sandra. Because of his pride, Tom would pout until a woman he’d known only for a few months to change her life dramatically so that he felt more loved and secure. It made Pam angry, but she had said enough. “Anyway, enjoy your weekend! Are you going to do anything fun?” Pam didn’t really care, but she didn’t want their conversation to end on a sour note.
“Not really,” Sandra answered, still pondering Pam’s veiled insult about Tom’s character. Should she call her on it? A strong feeling of loyalty toward Tom was growing, and she wanted to address it with Pam now, before its importance diminished. “But before we hang up, I’m feeling uncomfortable about your comment about Tom. Do you think I am making a mistake trying to eliminate the things that are troubling him?” She was trying to weigh her words so they weren’t overtly challenging.
“It’s not my business and I am sorry I let that comment slip,” Pam said.
“Well, it is your business in many ways; I wish you would elaborate, please Pam.” Sandra was feeling more and more uncertain about her decision now; would Tom ever be satisfied? She had stopped talking to Pam and Marie, no longer went to the beach, miscarried Jack’s baby, and now was thinking of selling his business, too. What if her relationship with Tom ended? Then she wouldn’t even have a job. It would appear she was getting rid of every last connection to Jack. What guarantee would there be that he would feel secure when the business was gone? “You know what, Pam? Never mind. Thank you, though. I really mean it. I just saw things clearly, thanks to you. Please don’t stop being honest with me, okay? I need that in my life.” She didn’t say anymore and Pam didn’t question her. They said good-bye and hung up the phones.
Pam felt strangely empty after the call. She could only trust Sandra to be honest with her after all they had been through. If she was okay with Pam’s character evaluation of Tom, then Pam had to believe it to be so. She walked into her bedroom to put her workout clothes on. Snow or no snow, she was headed to the gym. Then she would go to the store and see Dave for a moment or two. Hopefully, Marion and Jean, the deli clerks, would be there. Since Pam had filed a lawsuit against Jean’s sister, the ER nurse who told Jean about Pam’s AIDS diagnosis, she loved being the pot-stirrer and made a point of cheerfully greeting the deli clerks on the frequent occasions she went into Organic Bonanza. Their discomfort in her presence was palpable, but Pam was enjoying it. Until they complained to their attorney or Pam’s lawyer told her to knock it off, she was going to continue taunting the clerks. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a case that would hold up in a court of law because although the clerks had been rude to her, they never came out and said why to her face. Jean’s sister had been reprimanded, but she didn’t lose her job. Dave wanted to fire the clerks, but he needed more documentation of their behavior to customers and he was watching them like a hawk.
At the gym, Pam spent twenty minutes with a trainer going through the weight machines, and then got on the treadmill. As she was turning the speed up she felt a tap on her arm. It was Linda Potts, the woman with whom Pam had seen Andy at the hardware store after his hasty exit from her life. Pam turned the treadmill off.
“Sorry to interrupt your run, but can we talk?” Linda said.
Pam was thinking, hell no. But good manners forced her to step off the machine and be polite.
“I know you saw Andy and I together and I wanted to tell you that I felt awful and he did, too,” Linda sai
d.
Pam had a fake smile on her face. “Linda, don’t give it another thought. Andy and I are friends, just friends. You have nothing to feel awful about and neither does he.” She turned to get back on the treadmill when Linda reached out for her arm again. Pam looked down at her hand but kept smiling. What now?
“I do feel awful, though. He told me about you having AIDS. He said that’s why you two broke up.” She was whispering now, playing the confidant. “I won’t tell a soul. But I have to ask you, did you sleep with him? Because there is no way in hell I am going to if you slept with him with AIDS.”
A burning sensation starting directly under her sternum made Pam feel that possibly she was having a heart attack; that maybe if she concentrated on breathing shallowly the pain would go away. She was uncertain what her next move should be. Should she get back on the treadmill and start running? Run until she collapsed, or should she just scream? She knew she was capable of it. She had not felt a response this physical to any but the worst of Jack’s betrayals. But then she had an epiphany. Almost without thinking, Pam began a charade. With a brief pause, Pam smiled and grabbed Linda’s forearm like a long lost friend.
“Oh, Linda. He’s just angry with me because he couldn’t get it up!”
Linda Potts stood at the side of the treadmill with her mouth hanging open while the gracious Pam Smith talked away. “We were trying to do it and his penis just wouldn’t cooperate. It was as limp as a pair of socks. I tried everything, trust me. But it was hopeless. Now he’s embarrassed and you can understand why. It must be so hard for a cop to go around thinking he could sleep with a high society woman like myself and then not be able to do it.” As she talked, Pam’s heart rate climbed into a dangerous zone, but she was getting into the role. Lying about Andy Andrews was as satisfying as taunting those ignorant deli clerks. She held onto Linda’s arm like a vulture. “Poor Andy. He practically stalked me less than two weeks after my poor husband died. Did he tell you that? I tried several times to get away from him, asking him to leave me alone. But he kept showing up.” Pam kept the silly smile plastered on her face. “Now you go on and let me get my workout in. Tell Andy that Pam says hi!” She let go of the woman’s arm and turned to get on the treadmill. She didn’t look back at Linda, but turned the treadmill speed up to six miles per hour and started running like the wind.
Linda Potts backed away, stunned and silent. She turned and left the gym without saying good-bye. Pam decided she’d better call her attorney when she was done at the gym and let him know what she had done. Chances were, she had broken some law. The letdown she felt after the high of stepping completely out of her comfort zone wasn’t pleasant. Maybe her old way of sticking her head in the clouds was easier after all.
Pam forced herself to finish her workout. She’d decided to bypass the store; she wasn’t in any condition to see Dave and taunting the deli clerks had lost its allure. What had she done to Andy Andrews to make him hate her so much that he would tell Linda Potts her personal business? While she drove home, Pam thought about Andy and Linda. Linda Potts was a barfly. She must have been one of the women Andy referred to when he told Pam early in their relationship that the divorcees in town were always bothering him. Pam could feel her own snobbery seeping in, remembering how, shortly after Linda’s divorce about twelve years earlier, she had asked Pam to babysit for her daughters, who were classmates of Brent’s. Then, she didn’t show up until five hours after the designated time to pick up her children. Pam didn’t mind them being at the beach at all, but Linda’s delay had caused her unnecessary worry. When Linda finally arrived, she had a friend with her and her breath was fetid with alcohol. Pam was appalled. Linda did not offer an explanation or even a thank you for taking care of the kids. The entire Linda/Andy thing would baffle Pam for the rest of the day.
She got home and decided to shovel the sidewalks in front the house before she got out of her gym clothes. A police car slowly cruised toward the house and she almost fainted, but it wasn’t Andy.
As it turned out, because Andy Andrews was still working on a case involving Pam’s brother-in-law Bill, who’d been arrested for breaking into her house and attempting to harm Nelda, knowledge of Pam’s AIDS diagnosis was privileged information and he would be reprimanded for divulging it to Linda Potts. Andy wouldn’t be confronting Pam about her lies, after all.
12
Ashton’s resolve not to speak to Jack lasted for three hours. By the afternoon that day, he was in turmoil over having passed up a chance to spend time with Jack, sending him off without so much as a good-bye. He called Jack’s office but Jack wasn’t available. Jack had a mobile phone in his car, but he wasn’t picking up. Ashton waited until the evening and called the house, preparing to hang up if Pam answered. He and Jack had a signal: ring twice and hang up. But Ash knew that Jack might be angry enough over his behavior that he’d ignore it. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. Pacing around his apartment, he decided to go out and see if he could find Jack.
He got a cab and went downtown. He searched three clubs and finally found Jack, leaning against the bar talking to a beautiful blonde woman. Jack didn’t change his expression when Ashton came into his field of vision, but made his displeasure known with a movement in his jaw that was only discernible to Ashton. Walking to the back of the room, Ashton saw a group of men he knew and joined their conversation, keeping his eye on Jack. After about twenty minutes, Jack left with the woman. Ashton felt the sob rising in his throat.
“Looks like Jackie boy has a date for tonight,” a man named Paul whispered to Ashton. “Take me home with you tonight, Ash. You know we are good together.”
Ashton looked at him, at his slender body and his perfect, girlish features. He was completely different than Jack, and he was correct, they had been together before and it was good. Would spending the night with him be worth it? Using another human being? And then he closed his eyes and imagined going home, taking the subway uptown alone. He saw his dark apartment, and the big, empty bed. Another lonely day would start at dawn, probably without hearing from Jack. When he opened his eyes again, Paul was still there, smiling sweetly at Ashton, hopeful and eager.
“Okay, yes. Come home with me.” Ashton got up, throwing money down to pay for his one drink and turned to leave, the man following him out of the bar. They walked side by side in silence to the train. Ashton didn’t think of Jack once for the rest of the night.
13
Sandra sat at the window in Tom’s apartment, looking between the buildings at lower Manhattan. Her cup of tea had grown cold. She felt empty. At one time, she could count on a chat with Pam to warm her and fill her with a feeling of peace and security. Pam had a way of making whatever it was seem not so threatening, but not this time. Sandra was afraid that if she succumbed to Tom’s insecurity and got rid of Jack’s business, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Pam’s subtle criticism of Tom opened Sandra’s eyes. As she slid off the stool to get more tea, the realization that she was moving too fast came to her. What was the hurry? If Tom didn’t like her working at Lane, he’d have to wait. It was sort of thing one shouldn’t rush into. She thought about what she had been through in just five short months: Jack’s death, finding out she was pregnant and then infected with HIV, meeting Tom when Jack’s brother was stalking her, the loss of baby Ellin, and then moving in with Tom. Maybe changing jobs would be too much.
Sandra put the tea pot on, leaning up against the counter and looking around his apartment. A decision would have to be made soon about her place; her rent was too high to justify keeping it if she wasn’t going to live there. Surprisingly, she liked it in Brooklyn. Williamsburg was a great neighborhood, less congested than the Upper West Side. She liked the grocery store and the laundry around the corner. It was closer to work, too. The empty feeling wasn’t coming from the decision to live with Tom. It was because she was still grieving.
Although Tom was a sweetheart, he’d already said something to her that made her
think his tolerance for her grief was limited. They were snuggled on the couch one night watching TV and an ad came on for diapers. It wasn’t a particularly dramatic piece, although the music was slightly melancholy. Without warning, Sandra had teared up. She’d tried to reach for a tissue without him seeing the tears, but he’d caught on. “Oh no, you’re not going to cry every time a baby comes on the television, are you?” He was immediately regretful, and she could see it in his eyes, but rather than leaving it alone, he got defensive even though she said nothing to him. “I mean, I know it’s only been a few weeks, but you need to get on with it, Sandra. You can’t go on feeling sad whenever you see a diaper commercial.”
She hadn’t responded because she knew it might lead to an argument. They hadn’t had one yet, mainly because she kept her mouth shut instead of calling him on it when he made an insensitive remark. But how long could she do that? Should she do that? It boiled down to the old conversation she’d had with herself about Tom. He wasn’t smart enough for her; he was too conventional, too bourgeois. He’d been there for her when she lost the baby and showed so much compassion that she’d fallen into the trap of allowing him to rescue her, providing a place for her to run to when the isolation and memories of her own apartment filled her with anxiety.
The teapot started to hiss, and as she poured the boiling water over a tea bag, she realized that she still wasn’t in a position to make any decisions. She’d already made one about moving in with Tom and making another to move out wouldn’t be smart. She was with him out of fear—fear of being alone, fear that no one else would love her because she was HIV-positive—and although she thought she loved him, her hyper-critical view of him was making her doubt that, as well. What should I do? Pam is the only one I trust enough to ask. The ludicrousness of her predicament hit her and she laughed out loud. The only person on earth that she could think of who would give her the answers she sought was one of the weakest people she had ever met. And then she stopped. That was awful! Pam isn’t weak!
Prayers for the Dying: Pam of Babylon Book #4 Page 8
