Blue Persuasion

by Blakely Bennett

  He got to his first. “Two-thirty-seven. Time for a swim?”

  “No. I’ve got to go soon.”

  “Early day tomorrow?”

  “No ... I—”

  “I see.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “It’s none of my business.” He pulled his encompassing body heat away from me and began to dress.

  “Don’t be like that,” I said, staring up at him.

  My warm lover had morphed back into his cold, hard self, his lips turned down, the crease on his forehead pronounced. “It’s going to take some adjusting,” he said.

  “On both our parts.” I pulled on my panties and shorts.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Can we at least agree in the future not to double book?”

  “Of course. I had plans with him first, and he wants to talk.” I fastened the clasps of my bra in front of me, shifted the closure around to my back, slipped the straps over my arms, and rearranged my breasts inside the cups.

  “Understood.” He yanked his shirt over his head, his erection still pronounced through his jeans.

  “You, my friend, have your work cut out for you, and I thought it was just me.”

  “How do you mean?” he asked, lifting the edge of the blanket.

  I stepped off and grabbed my stuff. “Me? I have to keep from falling in love with you, and you? You have to pick a side. You can’t be possessive and at the same time not want me fully in your life.”

  He shook out the blanket and seemed to be contemplating my words. “You’re right.”

  “Say that again. It has a nice ring to it.”

  He dropped the blanket and lifted me into his arms, my feet rising off the ground. With his left hand, fingers buried in my hair, he forced our mouths tightly together. His kiss reinforced our connection, placing more rivets affixing us together. For someone who didn’t want a commitment, he sure seemed determined to possess me with his mouth. Once he placed me back down on the sand, we stared at each other, silence hanging between us.

  I looked away at the ocean and sighed heavily. To deflect what I was really feeling, I said, “I’ll be fine, I think. You’re not that loveable.” I laughed and ran away along the edge of the water.

  He quickly chased after me, catching me in a few strides. We both slowed as he captured my hand in his. We strolled through the sand until we reached the bandshell and crossed over to where we parked.

  “Thanks for coming to talk to me,” he said as we stood in front of the door of my car.

  “Thanks for the incredible O. I can definitely get used to that.”

  “Good.” He tugged on the door to my car and finally got it to budge. “Listen, call that number. The guy owes me a favor.”

  “Okay.” I climbed inside my car.

  “Do you work tomorrow?”

  “Yes, the dinner shift.”

  “And Monday?”

  “I’m off all day. Although, I definitely want to get in a step class or two.”

  “Come over tomorrow night. I’ll text you the address. You can shower at my place.” He leaned over and kissed me.

  “Right, okay. See you tomorrow night then.”

  “You’re crinkling your nose again,” he said as he walked away.

  “And you’re smiling, even if only on the inside.”

  His back shook slightly.

  I backed up my car, pulled out, and drove down Johnson Street to A1A. Turning onto Hollywood Boulevard, I made my way to the parking lot outside of the CroBar Club, facing the railroad tracks.

  Me: I’m just pulling in.

  The car console read 3:15 a.m. I walked past the door to the club and found Bond sitting on the steps leading to his apartment.

  “Do I want to know where you’ve been?” he asked, brushing sand off my calf.

  “I guess that depends.”

  He took my hand and led me up the stairs. I could hear music coming from the club, but the volume was low. He sat on his black leather couch and ran his fingers through his long hair. I waited.

  “Is it Tate?”

  “Yes,” I answered, running my tongue along my swollen lips.

  “Do you plan to keep seeing him?”

  “I do.” I shrugged.

  Bond shook his head and took a deep breath. “He can’t possibly give you what you need.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” He shifted to face me. “Then why are you seeing him?”

  “Why am I seeing you?”

  “Come on, Blue. We’re friends, we have history. You and me, we help each other get through life.”

  “That’s true, but you aren’t offering me anything more than he is.”

  “You deserve better. You, of all people, deserve more. Why do you settle for men like us?”

  “Knowing why doesn’t change it at all. Either I live like a hermit, or I take the good with the bad. Love has always come at a price. Always. Besides, my good friend, you are doing exactly the same thing.”

  “Rory says hi, by the way.”

  Now it was my turn to shake my head. “Dude, really?”

  “I’m not doing anything with her. I’m practically monogamous for the first time in a really long time.”

  “Oh my god that is so funny. I guess for you, two people is the closest you’ll ever come to monogamy.”

  “I’m not sure anymore. I’m thinking more and more about wanting a family.”

  My eyes opened wide.

  “Don’t be so shocked.”

  “Uh, sorry. So what do you want to do about us? I’m not sure I want to tell the gang. I mean, if we were in love or something... And with me dating Tate, it makes it even more awkward.”

  “Whatever you want, Blue. I just can’t stand hurting you. You’re one of my best friends, and that’s the last thing I want.”

  “I know and it’s nice to hear it too. Can we go snuggle in bed? I’m exhausted.”

  “Let me shower and I’ll join you.”

  Once we were both in bed, facing each other, Bond said, “Please be careful with Tate.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Something’s not right about him. Not that he’s dangerous or anything, but when he wasn’t talking to someone and was just staring off, he seemed... I’m not sure of the right words. Damaged. Maybe I can see it because I was there for so long. He’s not a whole man, and I’m worried he might take you down with him.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. He’s been pretty clear that he will never love again, never fully share himself with another. Part of me sees the futility of it all, but Bond, it’s ... it’s also different with him.”

  “How so?”

  I didn’t answer right away. To explain something that felt ethereal seemed practically impossible. How could I explain it to another when I really didn’t understand it myself? “For one, everything feels so intense, and I don’t just mean the sex, but wow in that department. For a man who doesn’t want to feel, he seems to feel everything too much. He surrounds me. I feel him. That sounds stupid, but I do.”

  “Not stupid.” He pulled me close and hugged me to him, his head above mine. “You’re already in trouble.”

  “Yes...” I love Bond for many reasons, but none more than that he knew me better than anyone else did and he never judged me.

  “I’ll be here for you.”

  “Thank you.” I snuggled in tighter against him and then kissed him goodnight.

  His breathing quickly evened out as I lay awake. I wondered if Tate was in bed. I thought of his hands as I drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stay with Me

  by Sam Smith

  Bond left to go back to Red’s house where he lived part-time, and I headed home for a quick shower and a change before my women’s group. I packed a bag of clothes so I had something comfortable change into after work.

  Once at the Bread Building, I made it to our meeting room just before group started.

  “Before we begin,
I need to let you know there will be no meeting next week. I’ll be out of town next Sunday. Who would like to start today?” Ann asked.

  We all stared at each other until I noticed most of them looking at me. “What?” I demanded, throwing up my hands.

  “I think they’re interested to hear about the man you mentioned last week.”

  “Soap opera a’ la Judy?” I mumbled.

  “You can consider it interest.”

  “Yeah, we’re interested all right,” Charmaine said, leaning forward toward me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you fuck him?” Charmaine blatantly asked.

  “Yes.”

  Three of the women gasped, and two covered their mouths.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

  “Care to elaborate?” Suzie asked.

  Then I just blurted it all out, mostly because I wanted to shock Charmaine. “It was good, no great, and then he abruptly took off. He’s broken, emotionally unavailable, and the hottest man I’ve ever been with. Complete and utter trouble but well, you know me, a magnet for the emotionally retarded. He wants me. He made me Post-It notes to add to my collection of affirmations. I can’t share them all, but one says, ‘Blue is everyone’s favorite color.’ That’s my nickname.”

  “So a romantic, emotional retard,” Suzie crooned, practically swooning.

  “I think he might have been perfect for me, if I’d found him before he got broken. Anyway, I saw him again last night and will see him again tonight.”

  “Is this the best choice for you, Judy?” Ann asked with no judgment in her expression.

  “The absolute worst, so far as I can tell.”

  The women in the group shared a collective laugh, except for Ann.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” she said. “One of the goals of therapy is to make different choices for you, to find strategies to support taking better care of yourself.”

  “Obviously, she’s not there yet,” Charmaine said.

  I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes in her direction.

  She held up her hands, palms out. “I’m nowhere near close myself. I took off my assistant’s head just yesterday.”

  “What does he want from you?” Toby asked me. She rarely spoke up in group at all.

  “He says friendship and sex.”

  “So, like Mitchell?” she asked, shifting her knees in my direction. The group knew Bond by his given name.

  “Not exactly. Well actually, exactly how it used to be with Mitchell before he shared his past.” Bond’s fiancé died in a car crash, and he did prison time because he had been driving the car.

  I continued, “Yes. There is one huge difference, though.”

  “What’s that?” Toby asked.

  “Mitchell and I have been friends for years, and we love each other in our own way. Tate? I don’t know him, and he has no intention of letting me in.”

  “Judy, what do you hope to get out of spending time with Tate?” Ann asked.

  “Heartbreak and devastation.” I looked around at the women with mouths agape. “I’m sort of kidding. I mean, I am. I hope he decides to lower his fortress of protection and lets me know him, maybe even love him.”

  “Why him?”

  “Probably because he’s unavailable. I clearly see what I’m doing, but how the hell can I change it when my body leads me astray? I guess I’ll have to settle for really amazing sex until I meet Mr. Right, or Mr. Wrong morphs into Right.”

  “I’d like to advise you that you still have a choice,” Ann stated.

  “Come on, Ann. Even I’m on Judy’s side this time,” Charmaine piped in. “Maybe you’ve been with your husband too long to remember what it’s like out there. It’s not like there’s a line of healthy men to choose from. Are we supposed to remain alone and celibate waiting for Mr. Perfect?”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, I know. Shocking, right?” Charmaine agreed.

  “Very and thanks.”

  She nodded.

  “If we spend the time working on ourselves, setting our standards at the appropriate levels, then a healthier match will present itself,” Ann lectured.

  “Sorry, no, I’m with Judy and Charmaine on this one,” Suzie said. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, just not as easy as you make it seem. Being alone in life sucks the big one.”

  I chuckled to myself thinking, And oh, he has a big one!

  “Since you sound determined to move ahead with Tate, I task you with establishing boundaries for yourself so that the relationship isn’t completely on his terms.”

  “That sounds wise. I’ll have to think about that before heading over to his place after work tonight. Thanks for listening and for your support,” I said to the group.

  ♥♥♥♥♥

  I had extra zip in my steps at work later that evening. I had reworked the first chapter and applied Tate’s suggestions to chapter two before going in. As I cleared a table and laid down a check, I combed my brain for boundaries as Ann had suggested. The only one I came up with so far was no sleepovers. For me, there was something very intimate about waking up next to a person in the morning. Until recently, Bond and I had never done it. Because of our tight friendship, it worked and hadn’t changed things.

  After cleaning my section and side station, I checked out with the night manager and headed to my car. That night the driver’s side door seemed to be possessed. I do solemnly promise that I am going to call Tate’s guy and get this sucker fixed. I plugged Tate’s address into my phone’s GPS and followed the instructions. The closer I got to Fort Lauderdale beach, the more confused I became. Did he come from money? A professor at a local college could not afford a house on Fort Lauderdale beach. I relaxed just slightly when I pulled into the driveway of a smallish home on the beach.

  He met me at the door of my car and opened it for me.

  “I’m calling tomorrow.”

  “Good.” He held out his hand and lifted me to my feet.

  “You live on the beach?”

  “It’s a rental.”

  I gazed up at him, questions bouncing around in my head. I held them in.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking the bag of clothes from me and leading me around the car to the side door of the house.

  “For what?” I asked, taking in his sharp features. The planes of his clean-shaven face looked stern as ever, but his mouth looked more relaxed. I couldn’t help imagining his full lips on mine again.

  “For not asking.”

  “Oh.”

  Inside the house, I scanned the furnishings. “Love the dark wood floors. It’s great.”

  “It came furnished.”

  “Kudos to the owner then.”

  “The place is great except for—”

  “Holy shit! Check out this view. I’d live right out here.” I walked out onto the deck. The beach, ocean, and horizon spread out below.

  “I spend a lot of time out here: planning my classes, marking papers, reading for pleasure, having coffee in the morning, etcetera.”

  I wondered if he’d ever had sex out there, but then I remembered he hadn’t had sex in over three years before meeting me.

  “I see where your mind’s going, Blue.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Has anyone ever told you, you have eyes the color of the ocean?”

  I paused before responding, not sure if the truth fit the moment. I went with, “That’s how I got my nickname.”

  “Bond.” He figured it out anyway.

  “Yes.”

  “That man is going to be the bane of my existence.”

  “That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think. I have to contend with your past, and you have to do the same.”

  “He’s not in the past.”

  “Neither is your past in the past. It lives in your present. Besides, Bond is the exact buffer we need. You don’t want me falling for you, and Bond will provide me some balance.”

  “
I still don’t like it.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yep, totally great really. I shouldn’t have to be the only one to suffer.”

  “Oh, you will suffer plenty tonight.”

  His words torpedoed my clit. My breathing accelerated as we stared at each other.

  “Let’s get you showered first. I wish we could shower together, but the bathroom is the worst feature of the house. It’s definitely not made for two.”

  The tiny bathroom was completely white: the tile, walls, toilet, sink, and even the shower curtain.

  “What’s with the two mirrors?” I asked, pointing to the two framed mirrors hanging on the wall, one over the sink and the other over the toilet.

  “I have no idea. Here’s a towel,” he said, handing it to me and placing my bag on the closed toilet seat.

  “Thanks.”

  Once he left me alone in the bathroom, I pulled back the curtain and set the temperature to warm. I stripped off my clothes, wondering if I should dress again or just don my robe. I used my own shampoo, conditioner, and soap. After finishing, I lifted his soap to my nose. Lemon, wood, earthy, and something else I couldn’t discern. It definitely was part of his unique smell and being at his place, I understood why he smelled of the ocean breeze.

  I dried off and wrapped myself in my robe, hung the towel up on the hook on the wall by the door, and threw my bag and dirty clothes into the corner. “I hope wearing my robe isn’t too presumptuous,” I said as I approached

  “Not at all. Come here.” He held his arms out for me and I stepped into his embrace, his lips gently kissing mine. He maneuvered us over to the plush, white couch and positioned me on his lap, my legs draped over his thighs. His teeth caught my bottom lip and then he increased the pressure of our kiss. His tongue slid alongside mine, at first leisurely, and then ardently.

  When we parted, I whispered, “You taste so good.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” His eyes were dancing and affectionate. “Would you like something to eat or drink before we get started?”

  “I’m good. I ate at work. I feel anxious to get started.”

  He laughed. “Okay. If anything I do is too much, just say red.”

  “Why does hearing you say that turn me on? At least part of it anyway. Let’s not use Red’s name and choose another word? Geronimo?”