Blue Persuasion

by Blakely Bennett

  While at work, I found a few hours of respite as Tap 42 cranked up. Too busy to think about Tate, I actually enjoyed myself. I even put my flirt on a bit, and my tips reflected it. At the end of the night, I could feel a bit of angst creeping back in, so I helped Stuart close up.

  “Want to get a drink?” he asked as we were putting the mugs away in the cooler.

  “Oh?” I said, looking up.

  He was a decent looking man: curly blond hair, green eyes, medium height with lots of energy. “You know, an alcoholic beverage at another establishment?” he asked, sweeping his hand in front of all the liquor bottles like a model on a game show.

  “I’ve found that work and play don’t mix well together.”

  “It’s just a drink,” he insisted with a cheeky smile.

  “Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”

  “It’s that big guy with the long hair, right?”

  “Huh?” I handed over the last of the mugs.

  “When I saw him, I figured I missed my chance.”

  I threw the towel I held into the laundry bin. “He’s nobody. Listen, is it okay if I take off?”

  “Yeah, see you next week.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rain poured down around me as I struggled with the driver’s side door. “Crap. What the fu…” I became exasperated and climbed in through the passenger door.

  When I arrived at my apartment, I rummaged in my bag for the key and slid it home. A large manila envelope fell in when I pushed the door open. I picked it up, examined it, and dropped it on the kitchen table. My cold, wet clothes needed to come off and then straight to the shower with me. A fret began to roil in my stomach. I assumed, with some trepidation, that the envelope had come from Tate and it held my chapter. I took the fastest shower of my life, wrapped myself in a towel, and ran back to the kitchen table. I raised the metal clasps and shook out the contents. The first chapter of Soul Adjacent, creased in the middle, fell out along with several Post-Its covering the title page, a business card for auto repair, and a folded note.

  Before I had a chance to read anything, my phone vibrated.

  Bond: Are you coming tonight?

  Me: No, I don’t think so.

  Bond: Come on, Blue. We don’t have to have sex. We can talk.

  Me: About?

  Bond: What we’re going to do. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted or I’m ashamed of you. That’s totally wrong.

  Me: I just got home from work. Let me eat something and then I’ll let you know.

  Bond: Okay.

  I decided to make a turkey sandwich as a way of procrastinating before reading the envelope contents. Sitting back down with the plate, I opened his note, taking in his left-handed slant.

  Blue,

  I’m sorry for my departure. It became too much, and I just had to get out of there. There’s no excuse for leaving you like that. I’ve never done anything so flawed.

  I’d like to see you again, but I feel like I need to lay it all out there. Not the past, I’m not willing to share that, but what I’m capable of and not. I will say that nothing and no one has ever felt like it does with you. Nothing even remotely close. And we’ve barely scratched the surface of our mutual sexuality. That’s what I can offer, but I’d prefer to discuss it in person.

  “I’m sure you would,” I said aloud and continued reading.

  Either way, I hope we can stay in touch.

  I read your chapter and enjoyed the start of the story. I think it reads a bit clunky in present tense and in my notes, I make suggestions about changing over to first-person past tense. You should definitely keep at it.

  Tate

  Underneath, in pencil it read:

  I waited here for two hours hoping to see you. The rain chased me away.

  I pulled the chapter in front of me and laughed. The Post-Its had nothing to do with the story. Six yellow ones covered the page. They read: Avoid half-breed American Indians with bad attitudes. Blue is everyone’s favorite color. My clit is perfect. I’m a sex goddess. I am a breath of fresh air. I am a talented writer who should share her work. I could not stop smiling.

  I went into the bathroom and placed five yellow squares around the edge of the mirror, covering others to make room. The one with Avoid half-breed American Indians with bad attitudes I posted smack in the center of the mirror and laughed.

  Back in the kitchen, I finished my sandwich and looked over the chapter. On the last page it read: Are you Katness? There were a lot of red lines throughout, but I could easily see how his suggestions would make the story better.

  I felt excited.

  Now a normal person would be happy enough with that, but I was far from normal. Was I happy because I heard from Tate? Or because Bond sounded like he was ready to come out to the group? I wasn’t sure I really wanted that. Was my mood uplifted because Tate liked my story? Or maybe because we would see each other again? Blah, blah, blah, and around it went.

  And then, I didn’t feel so excited anymore. Did I want what either of them offered? Why did men only want halfway with me? Could I stand another relationship that had no chance of progressing? Should I go see Bond? Text Tate? Decide to be a lesbian? I sometimes wished I could just turn a switch like that.

  I tapped the screen on my phone and sent a text.

  Me: I found your envelope.

  Tate: Sorry I missed you.

  Me: Loved the Post-It notes.

  Tate: Thought you might. What are you up to tonight?

  Me: Undecided.

  Tate: Maybe I can help you decide.

  Me: Okay, should I go see Bond? He wants to talk about letting the group know about us.

  Tate: That’s an easy one, not tonight.

  Me: Why?

  Tate: Because you’re coming to see me?

  Me: You ended that with a question mark, but it didn’t seem like a question.

  Tate: Blue, I’d like to see you.

  Me: I don’t know. Seems to me you’re offering me the very same thing you said I shouldn’t settle for.

  Tate: I am.

  Me: Great.

  Tate: It’s all I have, but you’re right, you deserve more. However, I can’t stop thinking about you and our time together on Wednesday night or I’d leave you alone.

  Me: Neither can I. Your hands.

  Tate: My hands?

  Me: Yes, and your departure.

  Tate: I’ll come to you.

  Me: Definitely not. Well maybe. My first thought was that you wouldn’t be able to take off if I came to you, but you could still kick me out of your place. How about neutral territory?

  Tate: Where?

  Me: The Beach. Hollywood.

  I loved the beach at night. I rarely had the opportunity to go because it wasn’t safe for a woman in South Florida to go there alone.

  Tate: Okay, I’ll meet you by the bandshell in 20.

  Me: Perfect.

  Once dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, I texted Bond.

  Me: What time are you getting off?

  Bond: 3 a.m. or so.

  I checked the time on the stove: 12:45 a.m.

  Me: I’ll text you when I’m coming over. It’ll be awhile.

  Bond: Good! Anytime.

  I filled a glass with water and drained it. Phone and keys in hand and driver’s license in my pocket, I hopped down the steps to my car. I fought with the car door, but this time I won. The door creaked and popped as it shut. Once settled, I turned up the music and sang Rude along with MAGIC! I loved the reggae beat.

  During the day, it was impossible to park on Johnson Street in front of the bandshell. At night, I had my choice of spots and pulled in next to Tate’s Harley. I didn’t even have to feed the meter because it was after hours.

  “Hi.” No smile on the jean-clad man.

  “Hi, cheer up, it’s a beautiful night, and the rain has already passed through.”

  “I’m happy to see you.”

  “That’s usually followed by a smile.”
I pushed up the corners of his mouth.

  He cracked a small smile.

  “Let’s walk down past the shops where it’s dark.”

  “Good idea,” he said, smiling.

  I playfully punched his shoulder. “It’s so we can see the stars.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I shot him a dirty look.

  He pulled out a blanket from the side pack on the bike.

  “Good idea.” I kicked off my flip-flops and walked onto the sand, making a beeline to the shore. The ocean wind blew my auburn hair back off my shoulders. I loved the feel of the warmth hitting my face. The beach alone made me ecstatically happy. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “So?”

  “So?”

  “You wanted to do this in person and now’s your chance.”

  He threw the blanket over his shoulder and took my hand, looking directly at me in the dim light. “I’m sorry for running off Wednesday night and thank you for meeting me here tonight.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I want you. I can hardly think of anything else.”

  His words sent a frisson through me and my pussy tingled. Ignoring my body’s outlandish response, I asked, “But?”

  “I will never marry again or love again or share my life with another person.”

  “Wait a sec. So what are you suggesting?”

  “Sex and friendship.”

  “I’m not sure you and I have the same definition of friendship. Maybe you mean acquaintances?” I yanked my hand free.

  “No, I mean friendship.”

  I took a couple steps forward along the water’s edge and looked back at him. “How can we be friends if you have no intention of sharing yourself with me? In my world, you share something, I share something, and that’s how we get to know each other.”

  “My past isn’t all of me.”

  “By definition, it is. We have this moment and everything else is in the past.”

  “I want to know about you, just no questions about me.”

  “Even your childhood?”

  “I may share now and again, but no questions.”

  I continued strolling, contemplating his words. Did I want to be naked with him again? Hell, yes. Did I want to sign up for another Bond scenario? Hell, no. Could I keep myself, my heart separate? Doubtful.

  We had walked far enough that we were behind the houses on Hollywood Beach. Tate unfolded the blanket and spread it over the sand.

  I sat down, crossed my legs, and leaned back on my palms.

  He moved in behind me and drew my back against his chest.

  I felt his warm breath against my neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I have several ideas.”

  “Tell me how this would work. Do we date?” I snuggled in tightly against him, his unique smell enveloping me. I had to force myself to focus on the conversation.

  “You mean other people?” he asked.

  “No, but let’s address that later. I meant you and me. Go to dinner, the movies? Hang with mutual friends, etcetera. Or do we just meet up when we want to fuck?”

  “How do you want it?”

  “That, sir, is a trick question.” I swiveled around until I faced him, my legs folded in front of me. Even in the dark, his penetrating stare affected me.

  “Are you always this open?” he asked

  “No, definitely not, but if you mean honest, usually.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “At least in our case I know you want me for my body. The very thing I’ve strived to stay away from. And yes, Katness is based on me, on my insecurities and my desire for deep connections. My friends are everything to me, even when I get jealous or feel slighted. Now that Bond seems open to the idea of telling the group about us, I’m not sure I want it.”

  He leaned forward and took my hand into his cozy palms. “Why?”

  “Because it will shift the dynamic, and I’m not sure I want it to. Now, it’s more cut and dry and that’s so much better for me than ambiguity. If the group knows, then whom does Bond give his attention to? I’m plenty used to it not being me when the gang’s together. Part of me thinks it might be a relief to Jacqs, and the other part thinks it might sever our friendship. I don’t know. Maybe it would be worth it if we had potential for the long-term, but we don’t.”

  “Why not?” he said, circling his finger around my palm.

  “That’s very distracting.”

  “It’s meant to be.” He leaned forward and kissed the side of my head.

  I waited until his eyes returned to mine. “I don’t love Bond like that, and he definitely doesn’t love me like he loves Jacqs.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Once, at least I thought I was, but I was young. Not as an adult.”

  “Who was it?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t about to bare my soul to a man who had no intentions of doing the same. My brother’s best friend broke my heart irrevocably. But unlike Tate, I hadn’t entirely given up on love. “You’re only forty-three, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could easily live another forty or fifty years.”

  “So?”

  “That seems like a long time to go without sharing your life with someone. I’m not asking, I’m just saying. I don’t have the greatest outlook on love, especially since men seem to only want me at a distance.”

  Tate cringed at my comment. “That has nothing to do with you, Blue. I haven’t wanted anyone at all in over three years.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m saying yes. For as long as I can take it or until I meet Mr. I-want-all-of-you.”

  “And dating other people?” he asked.

  “I can and you can’t.”

  He pulled me onto his lap and tickled my sides. “And you think that’s fair?”

  “Completely fair. You don’t want more, and I do.”

  “Okay. Now kiss me.”

  And I did, over and over until his hands began to roam. “Oh,” I moaned. “Your hands swallow me up.”

  “Take off your bra,” he said, kissing his way down my neck.

  “Just my bra?”

  “Yes.”

  I reached back, unhooked the four clasps, and pulled the straps off through the armholes of my black tank. Then I smoothed the shirt back down.

  Over the top, he traced the outline of my breast with his fingers, circling my nipples, but not touching them. “Beautiful. I mean, truly.” Then his hands each held one as if weighing them. “I want you for more than just your body.”

  “Says the man holding my boobs. Uh huh.”

  He shoved me onto my back, one hand lifting my shirt, the other snaking into my shorts. “I also want you for what I can do to your body.” His warm hand massaged my breast while his potent fingers adroitly circled my clit.

  I groaned against his mouth as his full, soft lips collided with mine. “Holy smokes!”

  Then his blessed mouth lowered over my right nipple, and my back arched over the extreme suction. His teeth grazed back and forth over the tip.

  My pussy flushed in excitement.

  “You like that,” he grunted. He moved his mouth to my other nipple, giving it equal attention all the while his fingers tapped against my clit.

  “Harder,” I moaned.

  He bit down hard, and I cried out into the night.

  “Shhh, you can be so loud.”

  I started giggling and shaking. “Me? You should hear yourself.”

  “Do I need to tickle you again?”

  “If you mean tickle my clit, then yes. You’re doing a fine job. Do you have the condoms with you?”

  “No, I left them in your right end table.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “I won’t have sex without them.”

  “I get it. So are we done?” I sat up, his hand still lodged in my shorts.

  “Not even close.”
He pulled off his shirt and situated me between his legs with my back against his chest.

  I yanked my shirt over my head and sighed back into the heat of his body.

  “Take off your shorts.”

  I quickly kicked them and my panties away and resettled myself against him.

  His large hands sculpted my body, caressing every inch of my skin. One hand scooped up my breast, twisting my nipple with his fingers and the other spread my thighs wide and played in my wetness. The warmth of his mouth settled on the back of my neck, teasing with his tongue and teeth.

  I tilted my head back and gasped over all the competing titillation. “Please,” I called out.

  “Kiss me.” He shifted me slightly so he could dip his head over my shoulder and ensnare my lips.

  I groaned into his mouth, tasting him, feasting on his flavor and scent.

  He held me tightly against him as my orgasm began to quake.

  I broke off the kiss and stared out at the ocean as the contractions shook me. My soul road the waves, up and down, until it flew back to me. “Holy whoa.”

  He chuckled against my neck. “You have a fondness for the word, ‘holy,’ I’ve come to discover.”

  “Holy shit that was good.” Smiling, I pivoted sideways as he wrapped me up in his arms. I sighed against his chest. “Someone needs some attention,” I whispered, touching the hard heat against his thigh.

  “Not tonight.”

  “What do you mean? Why?” I looked up into his dark eyes.

  “I want you to come to my house, soon.”

  “Will you let me play with it? I haven’t gotten to taste you yet.”

  Smoothing my hair against my head and down my back, he said, “We have plenty of time for all of it.”

  “Do we?” Truthfully, I had no idea how long I could keep my heart out of it, but I felt determined to try. “What time is it?” I searched my discarded shorts for my phone.