Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  Opting to conceal the mark left by Kurt, in hopes of the whole topic not coming up, I choose a backless black silk dress that has full sleeves. My favorite part of the dress is the jeweled pendant that hangs about halfway down my back. Functionally, it holds the shoulders up, but it looks so pretty. It's back jewelry.

  The sleeves work in my favor, because the day turns out to be a bit on the dreary side and cool for May. Plus, paired with my out-of-this-world red Viviers and the sultry eyes I was masked with at the salon, I look like a temptress.

  At about five thirty, I receive a text from my date—not my assistant.

  Ben: I'm a little early. May I come up?

  Me: I'm not all the way ready, but you can come up.

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. I was ready at five. Like ready ready. Clutch packed. Lips glossed. Schpritzed from top to toe.

  Ben: I'm on my way up.

  Minutes later, I hear the knocker at my door, which I find funny because Ben has a key. But I humor him and go to the door.

  “Why are you knocking?” I ask through the door before pressing on the oversized door latch.

  “Tatum, this is a date. A man doesn't just walk in on a woman. He knocks. So...” His voice fades off, inquiring as to whether I will play along and open up.

  “That's silly. We know each other and you have a key. Come in whenever you want. It's unlocked.”

  I'm walking back to the great room when I hear him open the door. I fully look over my shoulder to see his face. He stunned and stunning at the same time. Jaw open, he bends at the waist, his hand catching his weight on his thigh. I see him whisper, “Whoa.”

  “Hi,” Is all I can manage to say.

  Hearing his voice on the phone and on the other side of the door didn't ring home just how much I missed this man in only two short days, but seeing him here in my foyer audibly catching his breath is too much. Like a magnet, I turn to him, flipping the polarity in the room so that the attraction is front and center.

  “That dress is dangerous,” I hear him say to me or to himself. I can't tell.

  The temperature rises tens of degrees and I sway side to side, feeling the pendant run like a pendulum across my radiating skin.

  “Are you going to come in?” I ask.

  “Are you wearing that to the party, Tatum?”

  He moves his long arm to shut the door behind him, not breaking our gaze. He's dressed in a tailored black suit with a skinny charcoal tie and a tight white dress shirt. He looks delicious. His hair is tamed down to the side, and he has just enough stubble to outline his strong jaw.

  Who am I trying to kid? I want this man.

  “Yes. Is there something wrong with the dress? I like it.” I look down at the mid-thigh cut and lift my arms to check if it’s ripped or still donning a tag.

  “No. You look sensational, but damn, baby. Whoa,” he breathes and begins my way.

  There is a second that I rethink my choice of attire, but I can't help but swim in the hungry pools of lust evident in his eyes. I made the right choice.

  “Thank you. You look good. So good that I'm rethinking your work uniform, in fact. I could definitely get used to seeing you in a suit.”

  In five long strides, he's in front of me, and the even though I'm fully clothed, I feel naked in front of him. His beautiful eyes sweep across my chest and body.

  “I'm glad you're back.” I whisper.

  “I'm glad that I'm back, too.” Ben's hand runs up the length of my arm and slowly retreats back down to my fingers. He comes closer still and presses the softest kiss on my neck. His warm lips part and I feel his tongue lightly stripe up my throat. “You smell incredible. You look like a siren,” he quietly states, so close that I feel the air of each syllable breeze into my ear.

  I swallow and try to bring myself out of the heady trance that Ben has led me into. He alone has the ability to make my body purr, and I know we need to get out of here before this gets out of my control.

  “I'm ready when you are. We should go.” I’m loath to leave, but I can't see how we'll make it out of here if we stay like this for any measure of time. I'm already ready to strip off this dress and do his bidding.

  I'm in so much trouble.

  “Good idea. I need a drink.” Ben takes a step back and runs his hand down his face. It's like he's tempted to do the things my mind is screaming at him to do to me. Can he hear my thoughts?

  Can Agent Ben read minds? That would explain a lot.

  Ray drives us to The Yard, and as expected, everything looks magical. It rained this morning, but not enough to steer the party inside. Instead, the light shower left everything looking crisp and clean.

  The tables are covered in deep red linens and they look lovely with white candles in all different heights staggered atop them. The trees that outline the outdoor area are dimly lit with different sizes of glowing round orbs that sway in the light wind.

  The band is on one side and they are finishing with their fine tuning and set-up as we arrive. The dance floor area is big, but it’s small enough that it keeps the feeling intimate. We arranged for them set up a portable bar closer to the dance floor and had the venue line the edge of the dance floor with pub tables without chairs, all adorned with while linens and blood-red lanterns. Along one side of the building, there are tables for gifts and the thank-you bags Ben and I had put together, which include gourmet chocolates, the card to the car service that we reserved for guests to use upon leaving, and a personal thank-you from the couple.

  Everything is perfect.

  “It looks great. Doesn't it?” Ben asks as he looks around at our work. Well, our planning, anyway.

  “It does. It's much more romantic than I pictured. Winnie is going to love it.” As if on cue, I hear her gasp from behind me.

  “Oh my God, you guys! It's gorgeous! Wow!”

  Ben and I turn to greet the pair and easily see the gratitude and pleasure in their expressions. Cooper offers Ben his hand and gives him a bro hug. I heart stretches. My brother's a softy when it comes to putting that kind of smile on his fiancée's face. Then he hugs me. Hard. My still-mending ribs strain to stay together and I have to tap his back so he'll let up.

  “Tater, you guys have out done yourselves. This is awesome.”

  Winnie joins the hug. I'm sandwiched between my brother and my best friend. They rock me side to side, and I see Ben's megawatt smile. He's obviously thrilled, too.

  “Okay, okay. Stop. Ben really did most of the work. Just have fun tonight. And remember we already have cars arranged to get you home, so bottoms up. Enjoy.”

  They spin off, looking at all the tables, which also have pictures of them from throughout their relationship we had copied and framed. We really did do a great job.

  Ben's shoulder nudges mine in recognition of our awesome party-planning skills.

  I look at him. He's relaxed, and his eyes are alight with excitement.

  “Now, pretty girl, what would you like to drink?” he asks as he leads me to the table next to Cooper and Winnie's designated one. I put my purse down and tap my pointer finger to my lip in contemplation.

  “I think I want champagne. What do you want?”

  “Well, of course I'm drinking what all secret agents drink.”

  And we say at the same time, “Dry martini. Shaken, not stirred.” He kisses my forehead, and with his hand on the naked small of my back, he walks me to the bar.

  The night's like a dream. Cooper and Winnie are laughing or smiling the entire time and the band is phenomenal. They do a mixture of classic standards and contemporary songs with an unusually cool loungey twist. They're lots of fun, and just about everyone dances all night.

  Especially little Devon and Cynthia. They dance to almost every song. And when I leave to use the ladies’ room, I see him with her up against the wall behind some trees. That little fella has some macking skills if he gets a little nudge.

  Cynthia looks really pretty tonight, too. Her normally half-up hair is all down an
d curled. She is wearing a hot little dress, and I actually couldn't believe it was her at first. I know that sounds rude, but she really looked different.

  Janke cleans up too, by the way. He is sporting slim gray dress pants and a fitted black dress shirt. He looks sophisticated and sharp in his black square-framed glasses. That kid has his game face on. I couldn't be happier for them. They're so, ah, right for each other. I silently give myself a congratulatory pat on the back on the way into the bathroom.

  Ben's been a perfect gentleman. My glass is never empty, and when I stand to leave the table, he stands and offers to go. When I introduce him, he shakes hands and kisses cheeks like a seasoned politician. He listens and engages in conversations, and everyone seems to like him.

  I really like him.

  Leaving the ladies' room and walking towards the entrance of our party area, I see Ben waiting for me just outside the glass doors. With his hands clasped behind his back, he sways in time to a song I can't hear from where I am. I have to take a minute and appreciate all of him.

  He's such a beautiful man. His shoulders are strong and proud. His stance is one of a man who is confident and in charge. But even though he looks so big and masculine standing there, it's his mind and heart that are his most dangerous weapons. Piece by piece, they are breaking through my self-preserving will to keep everyone at arm's length.

  Then he looks behind himself and catches me staring. He smiles and lifts his hand, gesturing in a ‘come here’ motion for me to go to him. Without hesitation, I do.

  He opens the door and meets me, saying, “Dance with me.”

  I smile. Right now, I'll follow him wherever he leads.

  Just as we get to our spot on the dance floor, the soulful voice of the singer croons “These Arms of Mine.” Everything goes even more blurry than I'm used to, and I'm thankful that I don't have to worry about falling. Well, on the ground at least. Ben's already got me in his grasp, and I've never been safer.

  His arms surround me completely, and he presses my body so close. Our shared space is only separate by a thin piece of silk and the most heavenly smelling Armani on the planet.

  His hips rock and pull me with him, my body fitting with his just so. Ben's fingers run slowly up my back, right under the jewel swinging to and fro from the neck of my dress. Once it reaches between my shoulders, warm fingertips press firmly. Chest to chest, our bodies synchronize in perfect time to the magical song that surrounds us.

  For minutes upon minutes, forever it seems, I cling to him and forget all my worries and doubts. How could this be the wrong thing to do when it is the only thing that's ever felt this right?

  His steady breathing and the way he softly sings along when the band does “You've Really Got a Hold on Me” lulls me, and I instinctively squeeze him, telling him with my embrace how good he makes me feel. We dance and dance until my feet start their end-of-the-night routine of surrendering to my shoes.

  By about midnight, everyone is cleared out, and after we generously tip and thank the staff of The Yard, Ben texts Ray to pick us up. I wonder to myself what Ray does when he isn't just waiting around for us to call. It's kind of funny to me in that moment and I deliriously laugh. Partly from sheer exhaustion and partly because it's so strange to think about.

  “Are you drunk, baby?” Ben asks, standing behind me with his arms dangling over the front of my shoulders. His fingers are pointing and poking at my cheeks.

  “No. Well…maybe a little buzzed. I'm not drunk. I was just thinking about what it is that Ray does in between running me all over the place. Like, is there a club where drivers go to wait for their passengers?” I laugh again, finding the absurd idea hilarious.

  “Ha! That's a good question. I never thought about it. I suppose I just thought they were driving other people around in the meantime like cabbies. That isn't right either though. Is it?” The way his belly jiggles the jewel on my back when he laugh tickles, and I laugh more.

  “No. Or maybe it is, and when we call, he just kicks them out and hightails it back to me. He's like Batman and I run the Batphone.” I continue to crack up.

  “You should ask him when he gets here. I bet he'll tell you.” His poking has ceased, and one of his hands rests across my collarbone and lightly traces it.

  “I don't know if I want to know. Ignorance is bliss and all that. I think I'll maintain my stupidity.”

  “Have it your way,” he says. “Hey, I think I'm going to have Ray drop me off after he lets you out if that's alright with you?”

  Is this a trick question? Is he trying to coax me into asking him to stay? Or maybe he really did get sick of me? Either way, it stings.

  “Yeah, sure. I'm tired. You have all of tomorrow off, too. So I will just see you Monday morning.” I can't hide the sudden turn of emotion I have in my gut. I shrug out of his arms and go to stand closer to the curb. I'm instantly cooler, both inside and out.

  I'm so stupid.

  At this moment, the car pulls up to the curb, and without waiting for Ray, I open the door and scoot all the way over to the opposite side. Ben and Ray exchange pleasantries over the roof of the town car and I wait. Impatiently. I'm ready to be home.

  How the winds can change. When did my feelings get this sensitive?

  Toughen up, Tatum.

  “Are we going or not?” I say with a little more venom than I intended, but my ego is hurt. Both men get in and off we go. I lean forward to talk to Ray. “Hey, Ray. Thanks for picking us up so late. You're the best. Do you mind dropping Ben off on the way?” I sit back in the cool leather of the bench seat and wait for his answer.

  “Sure, I can take him, but your place is actually closer. Should I take you home first?”

  “No, we'll drop him off first.” My foot is down.

  I glance in Ben's direction and find him sitting comfortably. There isn't a worry on his face. This only makes me even sourer. As we ride through the streets that are still bustling at this time of night, I watch the people we pass out my window and think about the night. Regardless of how it's ending, it was amazing.

  I smile despite myself and hear Ben say from across the wide seat, “That's a better color on you.”

  “Excuse me?” This time I'm not as bitter sounding as I am tired. Feelings are exhausting.

  “You are upset, but just now you're smiling. I like that better. You misunderstood me, by the way, and then overreacted. I wish you wouldn't have.” I think he knows he's walking a thin line and his words are cautious.

  Did I? “I'm not following. I'm fine.” Deny. Deny. Deny.

  “Tatum, look at me.” His hand reaches for mine and I look at his fingers stretched open for me to hold on to. Again, my body can't resist him, even if I am rubbed the wrong way. “You told me on the phone that you want to take this slow. I'm fine with it. This is our second date. What do you want me to do?”

  Oh, yeah. I did say that. I suppose slow in this context needs a little definition. Like any other woman, I meant ‘slow until I want it faster.’ I thought he would know that that was what was meant by that statement. It's really more like ’let’s take it slow until I change my mind and then just follow my lead.’ That's what that means. Men.

  “All right. I admit that I said that, but it wasn't like I asked you up for anal and some light bondage. I didn't even ask you up. You didn't give me a chance to.” I can't believe I just said that. Yes I can.

  “You don't still have a chance?” He smiles. “Light bondage?” He smiles bigger.

  “Well—”

  “No, instead, you got bent out of shape and threw a tantrum.”

  “Hey, I didn't throw anything, Ben.” What can I say? Is he right? Did I blow up over nothing? God, this man is an irritating, thought-reading bastard.

  Pulling my hand closer, Ben reels me into him. I go hesitantly at first and then cave, curling into his side. “Do you want me to come up, Tatum?” he asks in a low voice so that Ray can't hear him.

  “I don't know. I mean yes. Wait. No.
You were right.” I look up at him apologetically. “I'm sorry. I don't think I know what I want. But I want you to want to come up. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yes,” he says and lifts my chin towards his. Our lips are so close that I can feel how warm his mouth would be to touch. So close that even not pressing them together feels like a kiss. My eyes close by themselves and I wait.

  And I wait.

  And I wait some more.

  “You're so beautiful when you stop fighting.” The kiss moment vanishes, but something else replaces it. I leave my eyes closed in fear that he'll see more than I'm willing to show.

  The things he says and how good he is to me are more than I deserve. This isn't fair to him. No matter how badly I want this little fantasy he's painting of an us, it just isn't right.

  I'm too stubborn. Too selfish. He should be with a woman who gives more than she takes from him. The sad thing is this was—almost—just the beginning. I can't imagine how much taking I'll do in my dark future.

  Ben's thumb traces both my brows and then tenderly skates over my eyelids, down my nose, and across my cheeks. So faint are his touches that they almost tickle and leave nothing but calmness in their wake. A finger traces first my upper lip and, in turn, my bottom one.

  He's knows I'm not glass. I don't shatter when dropped. So why does he insist on handling me like this, with such care?

  “Fighting who?” I finally ask on a whisper.

  “Fighting yourself. Fighting me. Fighting the truth.”

  Ben doesn't kiss me, but I want him to. So I don't call him Benny as a quiet punishment. I'm such a rebel.

  He gifts me the customary forehead peck when we drop him off first, per my request. He says that he's had a wonderful night. Before he shuts the car door, he leans in and tells me that he'll ask me out again and that he won't be waiting as long as I did to do it.

  The days and weeks fly by after Winnie and Cooper's party, and soon it is almost the end of June. I received thank-yous from many guests, saying that it was the best shower they'd ever been invited to. I believe them, because it was the best shower I've been to also.