Working With The Enemy

by Raquel Belle

  “Yeah,” she exhales. “You’ve been working out since we last… did this.” She traces a hand lazily over my chest, inching down to my abs.

  “I wouldn’t creep your hand too far down there or you’ll be in for another round of cardio,” I tease. “Your face is already pretty pink.”

  “Shut up,” she flips onto her stomach and buries her head into the mattress. “My face is always a giveaway. Especially my ears. They turn pink when I’m…” she gestures at the bed, at us, “physically active.”

  “And when you’re pissed,” I add, giving her a knowing grin.

  “Yeah. I was wondering if you remembered that.”

  “Of course I did. And I’ve seen your pretty ears go pink quite a few times since I started at P&B,” I poke her playfully.

  She looks up, taking her face out of the mattress: “Can we make a deal? Just for tonight?”

  “Sure.” What’s coming now?

  “I don’t want to talk about work. Or P&B. Or any of that.”

  I nod silently. “Me either, to be honest.”

  She smiles with relief.

  “How about some cold pizza?” I ask.

  “That sounds absolutely perfect,” she smiles.

  “Great. Here’s a t-shirt.” I get up and throw her an extra one. “Pepper is probably in the living room panicking by now. I shut the bedroom door so he couldn’t get in while we were…busy.”

  “Shit! Poor guy,” she laughs. “But I do appreciate the privacy.”

  “Well,” I chuckle, “to be honest, I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He’s still pretty young and he’s never, uh, seen me in action in the bedroom before. I didn’t want him to think you were attacking me or something.”

  She laughs, loud and ringing, as she clambers off the bed and follows me to the bedroom door. “Well, let’s go assure him that you’re just fine and I haven’t killed you.”

  Pepper is sitting right in front of the bedroom door when I open it and has clearly been waiting there patiently the entire time. He spins in happy circles when we emerge.

  “Go ahead and make yourself at home,” I gesture towards the couch. “I’ll just grab drinks. You want a beer?”

  “No, thanks,” she grimaces momentarily. “Just water, please. I had some tequila earlier in the night and I can still feel it.” She shakes her head.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” I grin. “I could smell it on your breath. Were you out with Amanda?”

  “Of course,” she smiles. “My other half.” She settles into the couch with the glass of water I bring her. “To be honest,” she goes on, “this is my idea of the perfect Friday night: curled up at home with pizza and Game of Thrones.”

  “Totally,” I agree. “Although it’s better with company.”

  She smiles happily at me. Damn it, she looks so sexy in my t-shirt.

  “I’m glad I dropped by then,” she giggles, reaching for a slice of pizza.

  “Same here.” I grab a piece too and wolf it down hungrily; I forgot how hungry great sex makes me. “Although at first I thought you were going to maybe just come shout at me.”

  “Well, that was the plan. But this was more fun, I have to admit.”

  “I think so too,” I tell her. “Come here.” My slice of pizza finished, I open my arms and pull her towards me, breathing in the scent of her hair — and that familiar perfume. “I’ve missed that smell.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know, the perfume you always wear. It’s the same one, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my signature scent.”

  “Care to reveal the secret?”

  “It’s called Tommy Girl. Don’t you remember? I think you even got me a bottle for Christmas or something once.”

  “Oh yeah,” the memory comes floating back to me. I breathe in again deeply, enjoying the sensation of her warm body in my arms.

  “It’s nice here with you,” she murmurs softly, sounding sleepy. “I can’t believe I’m spending my Friday night hanging out with the enemy.”

  “Shush, we said no work talk, remember?” I chide her. “And you’ve been doing more than ‘hanging out’ with the enemy,” I nudge her and chuckle.

  “True,” she smiles.

  We spend the next few hours just lazing around on my couch, eating pizza, talking, laughing, playing with Pepper. I’m feeling light-headed and happy — I don’t know if it’s just her or if the beer in my hand has something to do with it.

  Around one in the morning we both start feeling drowsy. I don’t want the night to end and the morning to come but I can feel my eyelids drooping and I know I’ve got to get some sleep.

  We head to the bedroom. It’s a mess. It looks more like it’s been ransacked by robbers than a spot for a sexy reunion between exes. Or ex-exes?

  “When did we throw all these pillows on the floor?” Sarah asks, giggling as she picks two up.

  “No clue. I definitely wasn’t paying attention to the bedding,” I smile and kiss her gently. Then I catch sight of two little scraps of lavender lace lying in the corner. “There’s your bra and panties,” I nod in the direction.

  “Oops,” she blushes slightly.

  “Hey, you can leave them there,” I joke. “They look pretty nice on my bedroom floor.”

  “Well, maybe just for tonight I’ll permit it,” she whispers and stands on tiptoe to give me a gentle kiss. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure thing.” I point her in the right direction and go back to arranging the bed. As I wait for her to return, I’m distracted by those bits of lace. They really do look nice, the delicate lavender contrasting my dark hardwood floors beautifully.

  It would make for a great Insta shot. That’s the last bottle of beer I had talking, I think. But it’s true. It would be a beautiful picture. Sexy but not overtly sexual. Just a hint at what happened here tonight…

  I grab my phone, take a picture, and then rapidly flick through filters until I find one that makes the lavender color pop more brightly. I don’t think Sarah had ever looked as beautiful as she did tonight in that delicate little lingerie set, the light purple contrasting her flaming blue eyes.

  What did she say earlier on the couch? My beer-buzzed brain tries to recall her words. Something about hanging out “with the enemy.” The perfect caption.

  Bleary eyed and cloudy headed, I slowly type my goodnight missive to my Insta followers to complement the photo: “Sleeping with the enemy.” Along with a winking emoji and a red heart.

  Should I be declaring my adoration for Sarah publicly in the midst of the P&B competition? Maybe not. But right now, I don’t care. She is an amazing, successful, funny, sweet, sexy, powerful, strong woman. And today, she chose to spend her Friday night with me. And I want to shout that fact from every rooftop in Brooklyn.

  “I’m exhausted,” Sarah’s voice comes floating to me as she reenters the room.

  “Mmm, me too,” I manage to murmur as I put the phone down. “You took it out of me earlier.”

  “Hey, you’re in way better shape than I am,” she climbs into bed and presses up against me under the covers.

  “I don’t know about that,” I respond.

  “We can have a rematch tomorrow morning and see who wins in terms of stamina,” she murmurs sleepily, snuggling into me.

  “You’re on.” I smile and give her a last squeeze before I drift off to sleep on a happy cloud of beer, orgasms, and something else — Sarah’s sweet presence by my side. This week didn’t end so badly after all.

  Chapter 11

  Sarah

  When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a moment to realize where I am —and who the muscular arm draped across my shoulder belongs to. Jake. This was not my best-laid plan. I make a mental note to never drink Tequila again.

  He’s still snoring gently behind me, giving me a chance to replay last night’s events. I think of how he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bed like I didn’t weigh a thing, of how he teased my body to climax not once,
twice, but three times. And of how comfortable it all felt, sitting on the couch afterwards, eating pizza and just… hanging out. What had I said to him about that? Hanging out with the enemy.

  Is he still the enemy? It doesn’t feel like it. Last night he certainly wasn’t. But we called a temporary truce; a ban on all P&B talk. Still, I’m not sure what I’m feeling now. Last night was amazing but how can we reconcile this with the competition at work? And looking at the big picture — after years of dating in New York City, am I really destined to just end up back with my ex? The boy I met in college?

  Although he’s not a boy anymore, I have to admit. I remember how he insisted that last night. My brain replays his words: You think I’m still just the same boy you knew in college… But I’m a fucking man. He proved that for sure, I smile to myself, remembering the ripple of his muscles under my hand.

  Okay. Time to get serious. If I’m going to figure out how I feel about all of this, I need some space. Some peace and quiet. Some time to think. I gently lift his arm and wriggle out from underneath it. He keeps snoring; he closed out the night with a beer instead of water and is bound to keep snoozing for a bit longer.

  I carefully creep out of the bed and gather my things. I find my bra and panties in one corner of the bedroom. My skirt and sweater are in the front hall. My shoes are too. I’ll have to walk home in those high heels. Walk of shame, here I come.

  I’ll just slip out the door and let him sleep. That’s my plan. But as with last night’s plan, it doesn’t go as I intended.

  Pepper, clearly happy to have someone else in the house awake, comes trotting at me — carrying his leash in his mouth and whining loudly.

  “Hey boy,” I stoop down to give him a pet. “I’m afraid I’m not the right person to ask for a walk. Your buddy needs some more sleep and then he’ll take you out.”

  Pepper just whines louder. I’ll have to get out of here before he makes too much noise. Where’s my purse? And my phone?

  It’s all in the bedroom. I go grab my bag, tiptoeing quietly around the bed. Jake’s still snoring and I think I’ve made it home free when suddenly Pepper comes bounding in, jumping all over the bed and yipping happily in Jake’s face.

  Shit. I should have shut the bedroom door. Now I know why Jake keeps it closed all the time. Pepper clearly hasn’t yet learned the rule about not jumping on the bed.

  “Ooof,” a manly grunt comes from the bed, followed by a sleepy, “hey, boy, you ready for a walk? Did Sarah not want to take you?”

  He raises his head from the pillow and squints at me. “You trying to sneak out the door without giving us boys a kiss goodbye?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. I forgot to close the bedroom door — I didn’t realize Pepper would come in here and pounce on you.”

  “No worries, it’s not your fault I haven’t trained the little guy properly yet. Right, bud? You’re just a rascal, huh?”

  Pepper barks happily, clearly in agreement.

  “Okay, okay,” Jake swings his legs out of bed and coaxes Pepper onto the floor. “I’m obviously not going to get any peace until he’s gotten some exercise. Want to wait while I throw on some clothes? We could walk you back to your place.”

  “What a couple of gentlemen you two are.”

  “You know it. Give me just a minute.” He starts rummaging around for something to wear. I watch, admiring how well defined the muscles in his back are. Maybe I could wake up to this on a regular basis…

  No. Don’t think about this now. Wait until you get home and you can clear your head. After last night, I absolutely can’t deny that there is something very real between the two of us. But I’m still not confident in my feelings — and not sure what I want. And who even knows what he wants? Maybe he was just drunk and lonely yesterday. One night together doesn’t have to mean a reunion.

  As I wait for Jake to get dressed, I check my phone. Amanda has texted and called me a few times (probably making sure I didn’t kiss Jake again — oops) but I’m more interested in the Instagram notifications I have: more than 100. Shit! I guess @LuxeOnLex must be back online. That was fast.

  I start checking the notifications, wondering what the new buzz is — after all, I didn’t post that photo of the girls last night. I haven’t posted in over 24 hours. So why the sudden flood of likes and comments?

  I open the app. It’s because somebody has tagged me in a photo. Maybe one of the girls from last night? I rack my brains, trying to remember if Amanda was taking pictures at some point.

  Nope: “@Jake_And_Pepper has tagged you in a post” the notification reads. What?! I click on the notification to take a closer look at the photo. And then I see it:

  It’s a shot of my lavender bra and panties. On Jake’s bedroom floor. The caption reads “sleeping with the enemy” with a winky face and a red heart. AND HE’S TAGGED THE BRA AND PANTIES: @LuxeOnLex.

  I stare, disbelieving for a second, and then start scrolling. I know I shouldn’t look but I can’t help myself. I just want to know if a lot of people have already seen this; it was posted just last night. Unfortunately there are already plenty of comments: Everything from “EW! She is SO fake” to “OMG you guys would make the cutest couple!”

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

  “Huh?” Jake turns to look at me while Pepper gives a startled whine.

  “You posted this last night?!” I wave my phone wildly at him, advancing towards him. “This picture of my bra and panties?”

  “Oh I — ” He looks a bit shocked and confused for a moment, but then sheepish.

  “What the hell is this, Jake?”

  “I was just feeling so happy and excited about us after last night and — ”

  “When did you even post this? While I was in the bathroom? Like some sneaky creep?” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. How could I have trusted him?

  “No, that’s not what I was trying to do, I swear — Sarah!” He starts to look panicked, as if he’s only now realizing what a major fucking faux pas this was.

  “I can’t believe I was just thinking that maybe we stood a chance. A second chance! You’re the same bratty little boy you’ve always been. What? You had to prove to everyone including all our coworkers at P&B that you had conquered me or something?”

  “No, Sarah, please — it’s not like that. I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you. For years. I never got over you. I would never do this to hurt you.”

  “Then why did you do it, Jake? What’s your excuse? I mean, you’ve even tagged me in the photo. You’ve tagged my lingerie. That plus the caption… You’ve made it perfectly clear to everyone, to the entire world, that we slept together last night.”

  “I don’t know, I was just drunk and happy and caught up in the moment…I forgot I tagged you. Fuck! I’m sorry. I thought we were okay. I thought we were going to be okay, I mean — that we’d be together again. That we’d tell people soon anyway. Last night I was just on cloud nine; I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I wanted to tell the whole world how much I fucking adore you.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell the whole world that you adore me but you definitely told them all that you fucked me.”

  “Sarah, please, I’m sorry… Can we just calm down and talk about this?”

  “We have nothing else to talk about, Jake. If you really ‘adore’ me, you will delete that post. And you will never, ever talk to me again. Not on the streets of Brooklyn, not in the P&B offices. I want nothing more to do with you. Ever.”

  I feel a tiny stab in my heart as I say it and I have to blink my eyes to keep back tears — but it’s true. I woke up this morning thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. But I can never trust him again after this.

  “Sarah, you’re blowing this out of proportion. This is just a stupid work competition, it doesn’t matter! What matters is us!”

  “A stupid work competition? This is my life, Jake! This is everything I’ve worked towards for as long as I can remember. Maybe you
don’t care because you just waltzed in here a few weeks ago and decided you’d throw your hat in the ring. Maybe you want to erase the last seven years for yourself, but that doesn’t mean you get to erase mine!”

  Without waiting for him to respond, I storm out the front door, almost tripping in my shoes. Fuck these heels! Once I’m on the other side, I realize my hands are shaking. I pause for a minute; all of me feels shaky. I need to regroup. I need to calm down. I need a friend.

  Amanda. I dig my phone back out of my bag and scan the text messages she’d sent me. Every single one of them is in all caps:

  “HAVE YOU SEEN JAKE’S POST?”

  “OMG DID YOU SLEEP WITH JAKE?”

  “IS THAT YOUR LINGERIE?”

  “CALL ME, GETTING WORRIED?!”

  I take a deep breath and call her. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Are you okay?”

  I want to say yes but I’d be lying. Instead I manage to squeak out a tiny “I don’t know” into the phone.

  “Where are you?”

  “Walking home.”

  “I’ll meet you at your place. 15 minutes. I’m there. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Amanda shows up at my door with a box of doughnuts and two giant coffees. She knows me well. I manage a weak smile and give her a hug.

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Obviously. I’ve been trying to reach you ever since I saw that pic go up late last night.”

  “Ugh,” I collapse onto my couch and hide my face in my hands. “We had this… amazing night together.”

  “Really?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Really. I mean I went over there fully intending to chew him out but then… It was like beyond our control. Like our bodies were just magnets that found each other —two objects that we couldn’t keep apart any longer.”

  Amanda nods, staying silent for once; she knows I just need to talk and get this all off my chest.

  “Afterwards we spent hours just sitting and talking and laughing. We even fell asleep spooning. When I woke up this morning, I was literally wondering…if maybe he was the person I wanted to wake up to every morning. For the rest of my life.” I hang my head in shame. “I’m so embarrassed.”