Bittersweet Deceit

by Blakely Bennett

  “First what?” he asked, cupping his forehead in his hand. When he raised his head, searching my face, his eyes filled with tears.

  I felt no compassion. “Really, you’re opting to play dumb. Here, I’ll spell it out for you: Am I your first affair?”

  “No, but I never fell in love with any of them.” He leaned back in the chair, knees out wide.

  “Any of them? Great. How many?” I tamped out my cigarette, breathing out heavily.

  “Lainie, I don’t see—”

  “Either answer my questions or leave for the airport.” I pulled another out of the pack.

  “Five.”

  That hit me straight in the gut like a sledge hammer. It took me a moment to catch my breath. “How long between me and the one before?”

  “I broke it off when I met you.”

  I blinked my eyes a few times in shock. “How soon after?”

  “After the first time we made love.”

  “Did you have sex with her one last time?”

  “No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  “Was she petite and beautiful like your wife?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  That would be a yes. Tears eked out but they didn’t stop me. I lit the new cigarette and asked, “When did you start having sex with Victoria again?”

  He didn’t need to respond. His expression told me everything I needed to know.

  At that moment I felt flattened as though a building had crashed down on my head, only it wasn’t my body that was destroyed, it was my soul. Why did I have to know? I just did. I stood up and said, “I’d say it was a pleasure knowing you but in this moment it just feels like a big, fat waste of my time.” Droplets fell freely from my eyes, but at least I was still standing.

  As I passed by him, he caught my hand. “Baby, please,” he pleaded, his cheeks wet.

  “Do not call me baby. I’m not your baby, not ever again.”

  “Lainie, please don’t do anything rash. Take time and remember what we’re like together.”

  I glowered down at him. “What we were like? I was your beck and call girl, the latest in a long line of them. Don’t fret,” I said patting his cheek, “you’ll find someone soon, on this trip maybe, to take your mind off of me. And, Mason…”

  “What?”

  “Good riddance.” I stumbled up the middle steps and somehow made it back to my place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Stay With You

  by John Legend

  After my conversation with Mason, I fell apart again on the couch, only this time there was no sound. The damage I felt lived so deep it quaked through me, and the rain from eyes poured like an intense summer storm. I had no idea how much time past, but another knock eventually sounded on the door, pulling me back to the surface. I tried to breathe normally but each breath came out in a shudder.

  For a split second I thought maybe Mason came back for his stuff. I’m such an idiot. I should have shoved his stuff into his hands and made him leave, and forwent the heart-splitting revelations.

  “OC, are you in there?”

  Stay? I opened the door.

  His arms hung at his sides, palms out. He didn’t step inside. “I got scared when I couldn’t reach you. I’m sorry to barge in when you need your space, but that feeling came back again.”

  I pulled him to me and hugged him like my life depended on it.

  “He came here,” Stay said as a statement.

  I nodded.

  “Have you eaten anything? Have you slept at all?”

  I shook my head and the movement wouldn’t stop.

  Behind me, he put his hands on my shoulders, ushered me to my bed, and lay down with me.

  Against his chest I wept as he held me close, smoothing my hair and caressing my back. He remained silent until the wave of angst and regret subsided.

  He dried my eyes with his handkerchief, and it made me laugh. “So glad I can amuse you at a time like this,” he said.

  “You’re lucky you caught me at my worst, it gives you more opportunities to use them.”

  “Someday you’ll appreciate it,” he said, handing the hanky to me.

  “Oh, I already do.”

  “Tell me, Lainie, what I can do for you?” he asked, snuggling me close.

  “You already are. Did you really feel it again?”

  “Worse. I think it’s because we are even more connected now. I paced back and forth, hoping you would call me back or text. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know you were okay.”

  I touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m putting you through so much.”

  “Oh, you’ve more than made up for it,” he said and winked.

  I playfully punched his shoulder and laughed until I thought I might cry again. Using the handkerchief, I dabbed at my eyes. “I can’t cry anymore. I don’t think I could eat or sleep either.”

  “How about this? I’ll run to the store and make my Granny’s famous chicken soup. If you can’t eat any of it, at least you can drink the broth. It’ll warm your stomach.”

  “Stay, you’ve done so much, too much already,” I said, searching his eyes.

  “That’s for me to decide. I know how to take care of myself.” And in the kindest voice possible, he said, “Please let me manage my own heart? Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Today’s your lucky day. I’m too spent to fight you.”

  “Good then let me call Sam to cover for you tomorrow.”

  “Now you are pushing it, Stay. No.” I crossed my arms.

  “You’re grieving. Go look in the mirror.”

  I sat up and said, “I don’t want to. I’ll start crying again and I can’t take anymore. I really can’t. You might find this unbelievable but until recently, I hardly ever cried.”

  “No, OC, I believe it. Listen, I’m going to run to the store. Make a list of what else you need.” He rose from the bed and held out his hand.

  I let him pull me up. “Ten boxes of tissues or a supply of handkerchiefs evidently. Are you the kind of guy who won’t pick up lady products?”

  “What do you think?” he asked, giving me a look out of the corner of his eyes.

  “I don’t need any. Was just checking. Maybe an ice pad for my eyes,” I said seriously.

  When we entered the kitchen, Stay checked the cabinets and refrigerator. “Please think about taking tomorrow off while I’m gone.”

  “I’m going to see what movies I can find on the tube.”

  “Good idea. Come give me a hug before I leave,” he said with his arms wide open.

  In the comfort of his embrace I lifted my mouth to his and initiated a kiss. Although calling it a kiss was like calling tyrannosaurus rex a small pet. His energy infiltrated mine, making me feel weightless and somehow reborn. Unfortunately, when he pulled away all my heartache was still with me.

  “Smoking is bad for your health,” he said at the door.

  “Oh, yeah, pick me up a pack of Natural American Spirit cigarettes, the yellow box please. And I insist on paying you back for all of it.”

  “Don’t worry, OCDC, you will and then some,” he said with his cheeky smile and a wink.

  “What am I going to do with that boy?” I said, once alone again. Not dwelling on it or the ache in my stomach, I awoke the screen on my phone and dialed Samantha.

  “Hey, Lane, what’s up?” she said, chipper as ever.

  “Sorry to bother you on a Sunday night, and for the last minute call—”

  “Do you need me to open?”

  “Only if it doesn’t mess things up for you or your mom,” I said, flipping on the TV and muting the sound.

  “Nope, it should be doable. Will you be in later?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure when. Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you, I owe you.”

  “You don’t, and I love to be able to help out. Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

  “Thanks again and see
you soon.”

  I turned the TV back off and decided on a quick smoke and a shower before Stay got back.

  In sweatpants and a shirt I settled back onto the couch, letting my hair dry naturally. Scanning all the channels, I made note of five comedies. I needed something to distract me and cause me to laugh.

  When Stay returned, I kept him company in the kitchen. “I called Sam and she can open for me but I will not have her open and close, so I do plan to go in.”

  “Good, that will give you time to rest up beforehand.”

  “Also, I found a few movies we could watch, assuming you’re staying.”

  “I’m staying,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Okay, your pick. The Wedding Singer is one.”

  He set a big pot on the stove and filled it a third of the way with chicken broth. “I’m not a huge fan of Adam Sandler.”

  I perched on the side of the counter, watching him work. “Okay, do you like Kevin Smith movies? I found Chasing Amy and Dogma.”

  “Yes, I think I’ve seen all of his movies. Dogma is more a comedy out of the two. What else?”

  “Groundhog Day?”

  He efficiently sliced carrots and celery, paused and said, “I feel like I’ve seen that movie over and over again.”

  I chuckled. “I see what you did there. Do you like old, black-and-white movies?”

  “I’m a b and w buff.”

  “The Apartment or Roman Holiday?” I peeled the garlic while he prepped the chicken.

  “Either of those is good. Both are classics.”

  “How many of these do you want?” I asked, holding up the garlic.

  “Four or five big cloves.”

  “Okay. What did you think about The Princess Bride?” I asked, dropping the garlic into his palm.

  “Never got next to that one.”

  “Me either,” I said, marveling over our commonalities. “Everyone seems to love that movie and it makes me feel like I’m missing something. I’ve tried to watch it a few times and—”

  “You get bored.” He lowered the chicken into the pot

  “Exactly,” I said. “I do like the part with Billy Crystal and Carol Kane, but the rest of the movie is lost on me.”

  “I totally agree. They were a hoot. I think The Apartment might be too close to home. I love Shirley MacLaine in that one though. How about Dogma?”

  “Great. I’ll set it to record,” I said.

  Stay joined me on the couch and said, “The soup is set, and now it just needs to cook for a few hours. If you crash before then, you’ll have it for tomorrow. I also bought a variety of foods from the deli if you get hungry.”

  “I’m good, thank you,” I said. “The movie starts in a few minutes.”

  He turned to face me, and asked, “How long have you been smoking? I noticed them on the balcony last time I was here.”

  “Too long, but until the last few days, I had cut back to one or two a day. Usually just one when I get home from work.”

  “So more when you’re stressed,” he said, touching my knee.

  I nodded. “Is that a total turn off?”

  “As long as I don’t have to taste it or smell it on you, then no, however and I know you already know this, the costs are hardly worth the pleasure. Does anyone know?”

  “Jacqs suspects that I’m smoking again, and now Mason knows.” I rested back against the couch, rolling my head toward him.

  “Oh?”

  Then it all spilled out of me. “I smoked in front of him tonight. He seemed shocked and I enjoyed it. Just that one part, the rest—everything that I suspect you imagined turned out to be true. I’m his fifth affair. He broke it off with petite number four after he met me, but had no sex after we met, or so he said. Seems he was busy fucking his wife the whole time. I will say this, he is either the best actor in the universe or he really was desolated to lose me. Maybe he doesn’t like starting over. Honestly, Stay, I have no idea what to believe anymore. I feel numb which I guess is a vast improvement from being one step away from hell.”

  “Do you give him any credit for being honest? It couldn’t have been easy to answer those questions.”

  I stared at him in wonder and said, “He says he has never lied to me. Maybe he didn’t outright lie but he certainly left me with impressions that weren’t true. To answer your question, no, he gets no credit for it. So many times he told me he wished he could spend his life with me, and that his commitment to his marriage was just for his kids. I’ve been a colossal idiot, not seeing what I didn’t want to see, not asking what I didn’t really want to know, and deluding myself all the while.

  “You know what hurts the most?” I asked.

  “That there were others?”

  “Yes, that I was one of many and not the only one. It’s who he is and that certainly isn’t who I hoped he was. Did he play the games like we did with other women? That thought makes me so nauseous I have to push away from it before I fall apart again.

  “I’m as angry with myself as I am with him. I let him lead me to believe that what we had was special and like no other experience in his life.”

  “And you don’t believe him?” he asked, taking my hand in his.

  Stay’s calm energy infused me and I sighed. I squeezed his hand and said, “How can I know? There’s no way to know. I doubt he ever loved me. He probably says the same shit to all of us.”

  “It’s hard to know. What games?” He grabbed my leg and arm and pulled me closer to him, draping my legs over his left thigh.

  “Don’t give me that look. I can already see what’s churning in your mind. I hoped you would let that pass once it slipped out.”

  “It’s up to you.” He shrugged all innocent like.

  “Fine. Role playing.” My face and neck flushed hot.

  “Like?” He put my hand in his lap and said, “I’ve never tried it, but I admit to being curious.”

  “Apparently,” I said, feeling his hard erection through his jeans. “Professor and student, massage therapist and client, boss and employee, doctor and nurse, FBI Agent versus spy, and a few others.”

  He whistled out and said, “I can see the appeal. Your telling me about it turned me on. I’m not sure if it’s the idea of it or that you shared it with me.”

  “Stay, you’re like a teenager around me.”

  He adjusted himself in his pants and said, “You have no idea. If you could see inside my head you would kick me out of your place.”

  “How is it you’re an absolute gentleman and a sexual deviant at the same time?”

  “It’s my most endearing quality.” He laughed. “Stop shaking that head of yours. I’m not sure you even know you’re doing it half the time.”

  “Nice way to segue the conversation,” I said, tugging his ear.

  “I’m more than happy to stay on the conversation of my hard cock, but I was trying to be sensitive. Since you so desperately want to talk about my bulge ... earlier today, wow, I mean I had high hopes, especially after the kiss in the club, but...”—he tapped his chin—“How can I say this so it comes out right? OC, you shocked me. I thought it would take you awhile to be so loose and receptive but—I’m struggling to be patient and wait to have you again.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I said and watched his face transform in front of me into a brilliant smile.

  He maneuvered me onto his lap and ravaged my mouth. His gift of mindless passion took me away from myself and allowed me moments of respite. Someday I hoped I could repay him for his friendship and kindness. I wouldn’t even allow myself to think in terms of love. Love might never again be mine but thankfully desire still lived close by. And if I was to believe Stay, then I only had to worry about my heart and not his. I would have to trust him on it.

  Our feral kiss became so explosive, so intense, I pushed away from him.

  “Jesus, Lainie,” he said, breathing heavily.

  “Me? It’s you. What the fuck do you do to me?”

  “That, my dear, fal
ls at least half on you.”

  I just stared at him, my body charged up and pulsating.

  “You’re shaking your head again.”

  “I am? I’m going to the bathroom. You, Stay, stay here.”

  He chuckled at me, and my lack of composure.

  I’ve clearly lost my mind and moved over to some strange alternate universe. “Clean up your wet pussy and go watch a movie. No more kissing for you, girl,” I said to the stranger in the mirror. She didn’t look like the Lainie of yesterday.

  Back in the living room he said, “Were you talking to yourself?”

  “Yes, but she ignored me.”

  He fell out in hysterical laughter. “I never realized how funny you are.”

  “Tragedy has a way of doing that to me. You need to keep your lips to yourself for the rest of the night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting me.

  I sat on the couch with some distance between us.

  “I know how to behave,” he said, drawing me closer.

  Pursing my lips, I said, “I call bullshit.”

  He laughed again. “OC, I love the natural wave of your hair,” he said, playing with the ends.

  “This is behaving?”

  “That is known as a compliment. I also love your long, pale eyelashes that frame your eyes.”

  I turned his face toward the TV and started Dogma. My body melded with the side of his, and I felt grateful for the distraction of the movie.

  “OC,” I heard in a whisper. “You fell asleep.”

  “Huh?” I murmured cloudy with slumber.

  “Throw your arms around my neck. There you go. Good girl.”

  I felt my pillow under my head and then blissful quiet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Relax My Beloved

  by Alex Clare

  Sleep might have been my best friend, but the cold light of day was my brutal enemy. As I opened my eyes I had a brief window of reprieve until I realized the man next to me in bed with his arm draped across my waist, his hard cock enlarging and retreating against my thigh was Stay and not Mason. Everything that happened came flooding back and I lost my breath.

  I scooted out of the bed and into the bathroom. After peeing and brushing my teeth, I sat on the edge of the sink, trying to decide what to do with Stay, but was not drawing any concrete conclusions, coffee became the priority.