Loosen Up

by Robin Leaf

  “But when I went back to the bar, the bar owner took pity on me and suggested me for that insurance adjuster job.”

  “Jesus, I would have fired you for that one.” He chuckled at the memory. “The one million dollars for that woman’s flooded bathroom was unjustified.”

  “Dammit, Jase. You know that was not my fault. My figures were accurate. I can’t help it if the dumbass at corporate approved the claim without calling me to question the figure. Those two extra zeros were not in my handwriting or even in the same color ink. He threw me under the bus.”

  “You didn’t check the sheet before you signed it and turned it in, so that’s on you. Attention to details is important, Ms. Flurkey.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Fair enough.”

  “And how did you luck into the job with Marquais?”

  “I was shopping in his store and didn’t like the way his merch was arranged.”

  He laughed. “That’s right. You just took it upon yourself to rearrange his store.”

  “Yep, and he freaked at first, but when his mother walked in and said that it finally did not look like a thrift store for hobos, he hired me on the spot. Seriously, I know I said I hate that man, but after meeting his mother and seeing their dynamic, I wonder how Marquais is so well adjusted. That bitch was harsh.”

  Our waitress delivered our food. Before he took his first bite, he took out the small bottle of hand sanitizer he always carried. He was religious about cleansing. I used to tease him about how cleanliness was close to Jase-liness; now it was just his thing.

  He shook his head again. “And now you lucked into this PA job.”

  I picked up my veggie Panini, sans sanitizing, and took a bite. “I told you. It’s not luck, and I have a good feeling about this one.”

  “You always say that.” He smiled around his bite of burger. “Are you sure you are up for the job? It does require you to be organized and detailed in schedules and things.”

  “How hard can that be?” He smirked. “Yeah, I know I might be a bit flighty…”

  “Just a bit?”

  “… but I really want this to work out. Just congratulate me and eat your fucking burger.”

  He just smiled and resumed eating. I felt his eyes on me the entire time, which, at first, ignited a desire I usually kept doused. I pictured us finally blowing past this stupid, unspoken, no-touching policy and felt my face flush. However, after a few minutes of his continual staring, I started to wonder if there was something on my face. I picked up my napkin and wiped furiously.

  “There’s nothing on your face, Darla,” he stated, amused. “I’d tell you if there was. Do you know how ridiculously easy it is for me to tell what you are thinking?”

  “Oh yeah? Then what was I thinking right before that?” I asked, dangerously close to flirting, which was another one of those unspoken taboos when it came to us.

  He smirked again. I had a love/hate relationship with that smirk. He, unlike me, kept his thoughts unfairly close to the vest. I had no problem reading everyone, except Jase Heywood. He remained a mystery to me. I knew him, sure, but only what he wanted me to know. It was enormously frustrating.

  He had opened up to me about his past. I knew he was raised in an ultra-conservative household where feelings were thought to be a frivolous waste of time and energy. I believed that was the reason he was drawn to me, since opposites attract and all. His self-control was equally fascinating and frustrating. I really wanted to witness him when he lost it; I had a feeling it happened only when he had sex, if he ever had sex. The longer I knew him, the more I feared I would never see that part of him.

  “Actually, Darla,” he began, straightening his posture and leaning back from the table. He was getting serious… well, more serious than he usually was with me. I had an overwhelming feeling things were about to get unpleasant. “I have a question I have been wanting to ask you for a while now, but I’m not sure how to approach the subject.”

  I laughed. “Damn, I was just thinking how much you aren’t like me. You know I’d just charge on in and ask.” His expression tightened. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Jase. You know you can ask me anything.”

  He took a second to straighten his cuffs on his shirt. Once he was satisfied, he laid his palms flat on the table and locked eyes with me. “I was wondering if you would be willing to let me watch you have sex.”

  Four

  “Black Dog” – Led Zeppelin

  I sat there, astounded. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to care. The waitress picked that time to come collect our plates. Jase ordered us another round of drinks and an order of fried Oreos to share. I was aware of all of these things happening, but still completely dumbfounded.

  “You want to watch me,” I repeated, mostly because I needed to hear it again.

  “Yes, watch you, have sex.” He said it like he wanted to watch me eat a piece of pizza or grout tile, not like he wanted to watch me naked and writhing with another person sticking their body parts inside of mine.

  “Um…” For the second time in our relationship, I was at a loss for words.

  “This makes you uncomfortable.” He removed his hands from the table and clasped them in his lap. “Forget I asked.”

  “No, no, no… just give me a minute to process.” He acted like people asked me shit like this every day. No, this was more like, Hey there, thought out of left field, nice of you to drop by.

  Okay. I need to shake this stunned shit off. I need clarification. Questions. Questions are good.

  “Do you want to watch me, like, a video of me?”

  “No, I want to be in the room.”

  I swallowed. “Okay, so, you want to watch me with…?” Why did I keep saying “watch me?”

  “Anyone you choose, male or female.” His lips turned up at the corners. “It matters not.”

  I paused, not sure what to say. Is this about just watching? Is he into voyeurism? “You know, if you want to watch people have sex, there are places you can go.”

  “Yes,” he straightened his tie and tried to hide his disgust. “I’m aware of them.” He put his hands back in his lap. “And you know I cannot risk going to any salacious clubs like that, not only because of my father’s career, but also because of mine.” He looked at me so intently, it made my heart race. “It has to be you.”

  “Why?”

  He ran his hand over his head. “That’s a loaded answer, Darla. There are several reasons.”

  “Okay. Give me two.”

  He stared at me across the table, probably deliberating whether he should lie or tell me the truth.

  “Look, Jase, you if you aren’t going to give me honest reasons, I can guarantee my answer will be no.”

  He flashed a look of fear so quickly I almost missed it.

  “Give me something. I need to know why.”

  He steeled his expression. “Do you remember back when we first became friends? When I turned you down?”

  I frowned. “Vividly.”

  “I have… questions.”

  “About…?”

  He paused and looked searchingly in my eyes. With finality, he said, “Me.”

  “Hmmm.” I twisted my mouth to the side. I had not received any questioning-his-sexuality vibes from him since that night, but again, he was not easy to read. That night taught me not to ask the obvious. “I know you well enough to guess that’s all you’re going to say about that, huh?” He nodded. “Alright. I asked for two reasons, so what’s the second?”

  He sat back, turning his body sideways and stretched his arm across the booth. His other hand reached up and stroked his chin, I think contemplating how to answer.

  When it seemed he wasn’t going to say anything, I huffed. “Look, Jase, if you can’t…”

  “I want to see you.” He leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his voice. “I want to know what turns you on, what makes you tremble and cry out. I want to hear your moans and see wha
t your face turns into when you shatter into a million pieces. I want to know if you like your nipples flicked, licked, or sucked. I want to watch the difference in your face when your clit is fingered versus when it is licked. I want to know if you like one finger in your pussy or two. I want to know if you like slow, long strokes or if you like to be pounded hard and quickly. I want to know all this… and more. I want to witness it all.”

  The waitress gasped and dropped our fried Oreo plate on the table and scurried away. If he hadn’t just tilted my world off its axis, I might have laughed my ass off.

  And speaking of pussy, Holy Zeus on a cracker, mine was soaked. I had to clench my thighs to relieve the pressure. He leaned back resuming his casual pose, like he didn’t just turn me on so fucking hard core that I was about to climb over this table and ride his face.

  I cleared my throat, trying to maintain my composure. “You know you could learn all of this first hand… right now in fact.” He shrugged. “So why not you?”

  He blinked once, which I think, as I’m still learning his tells, meant he was surprised by the question. “Because, Darla Maize, believe me, I want you, but I fear if I touch you, I’ll never be able to stop,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “and I will destroy something precious in return.”

  “Which is…?”

  He leaned forward on the table. “You,” he whispered, as if it was a plea.

  I didn’t understand, but his expression told me he would not be willing to explain. He wants… me? We sat staring at one another for a long moment. I’m not sure what he read on my face, but he leaned back again and placed his palms on the table, waiting patiently for me to say something.

  Abruptly, I leaned forward, crossing my arms. “Alright, I have questions.”

  His eyes sparkled. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

  “But will you answer them?”

  “Most likely,” he answered without hesitation. “Just know I reserve the right to remain silent.”

  “Will you just… be there, or will you participate?”

  “I will watch. And I might… direct a little.”

  Holy fucking shit! That’s hot.

  “So, you can just watch. You won’t be tempted to join in?”

  That smirk appeared. “Tempted… most definitely. But no, I will not join.”

  “Will you…?” I looked around and then nodded downward toward his crotch.

  He chuckled. “For someone so free with her sexuality, you certainly are acting shy about this.”

  I felt myself blush. “Sorry, Jase, we’ve never been this open before, and this situation is a first for me.”

  He grinned quickly. “To answer your question, if the mood strikes me, yes, I might touch myself, but only if all parties are on board. Some people don’t like that.”

  He knows what some people like in this situation? I tried to ask casually, “So you’ve done this before?”

  He remained silent, his face impassive, but based on his reaction, I sensed the answer might be yes.

  “And you’ll be okay watching without some sort of release?” Again he remained silent. “How will you handle that? I’ll be worried about you.”

  He smiled tightly. “I will be fine.”

  “Well, will you have someone on standby to…?”

  “I said I will be fine,” he stated sharply, clenching one hand into a fist. For Jase, it was as good as yelling.

  I kind of felt justified that I witnessed, not to mention caused, this rare display of emotion, even if it was a small one. I’d seen a couple from him over the years, but they were becoming less frequent the older he got. He was such a comforting friend to me, always knowing the right things to say whenever I needed an ear to listen, but I never got to return the favor. My best skill was knowing what people needed, and I never got to use it on the guy who was essentially my best friend. It seemed a waste.

  I tried so many times to get him to express any emotion, even going so far as to choose movies I knew would make even the hardest heart cry, but he remained mostly stoic, offering me comfort when my evil plot backfired. I joked about his controlled façade frequently, so I couldn’t help the Cheshire grin that appeared on my face for being the one to crack it.

  He glared at me. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” I asked with all the feigned innocence I could muster.

  This time, he did roll his eyes. Another win for me. “Do you have any more questions?”

  I brought my hand to my chin and tapped it, making an obvious play to irritate him further.

  “Darla…” he warned.

  “Fine. How will we do this? Will we go out trolling for a date together? Do we put an ad on Craigslist, ‘Hot man in a suit seeks someone to bang his friend while he watches?’ Will you want me to find someone and call you to come over? I mean, the wait time between the call and your arrival might be a mood killer. I can’t very well say, ‘Hey, will you do that tongue thing again when my friend gets here? He’ll want to see that.’” That earned me another eye roll.

  “And when I do find someone, how do I approach this set up? ‘Hey, wanna have sex with me? Mind if this guy you’ve never met watches us?’ Or do I just bring them home and say, ‘Oh, don’t mind the guy in the suit in the corner. No, he’s not a perv. He’s my bestie.’”

  “Jeez, Darla…”

  “Well, I’m not sure how this will work. I’m sure there are people who will be on board. I just don’t know where to find them.”

  He looked at me, stunned, I think. He turned his head away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. I reached across the table and touched his hand.

  “Jase,” I softened my tone. “Tell me.”

  “Is that what you think of me?” He looked back at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face: hurt. “That I’m a pervert?”

  “No,” I responded immediately. “I would never think that about you.” I rubbed his hand in an attempt to soothe him. “It’s just… c’mon, Jase. You of all people should realize that most people aren’t open minded about this sort of thing. And I’ve never sought out sex for someone to watch before.” I removed my hand and sat back. “But if we work out the logistics, I’m down.”

  His face brightened. I saw another emotion I’d never seen on his face before: hope. “So… that’s a yes?”

  I nodded. He leaned forward.

  “I think I know how to make this work. If I promise you will be in complete control of the final decisions, can you trust me to make the arrangements?”

  “Jase,” I whispered. “I’d trust you with anything.”

  Five

  “Hot Blooded” – Foreigner

  I was nervous.

  Which was weird. I don’t get nervous. Why am I nervous?

  It could be because I was about to have sex with someone I hadn’t met in front of a guy who said he wanted me but couldn’t have me, a guy I’d been attracted to since I was fifteen, a guy who was my best friend. Oh, and I had to find a way to not let this little liaison cause the best and longest relationship I’ve ever had to become awkward, or worse, ruin it.

  Yeah, not nerve wracking at all.

  It also could have been that the preparation it took to make this happen amped up my angst. I had to get a full physical, complete with a comprehensive blood panel and a hooha check, and succumb to a full STI screening, which is just not pleasant, to say the least, all at the behest of said best friend. He said it was to protect all parties involved, me especially. The blood test should have sufficed, but he said he wanted the full doctor visit because he wanted to make sure I was healthy. However, the more I thought about it, the more it felt like he wanted to make sure I wasn’t some dirty whore. I couldn’t help that slight little niggle in the back of my brain that questioned whether or not I was one. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t true, but since when am I always rational?

  Honestly, what kind of girl agrees to an arrangement like this?

  A
s a reward or an apology (or hell, it could have been a bribe), Jase gifted me a spa day, something in which I never would have indulged. I was massaged, scrubbed, waxed, plucked, buffed, styled, polished, and moisturized within an inch of my life. One would think I was getting presented to a king with the treatment I received. It did nothing to alleviate my anxiety.

  So I sat in the bar of this very posh, exclusive hotel, waiting… drinking my Sea Breeze, looking good in my retro pink and black dress and black pumps, trying not to act like I was about to do what I was about to do.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when his hands touched my shoulders. “God, Darla, you look beautiful.” I felt instantly calmed by his voice. I leaned back into Jase, trying to absorb more of his comfort, like he was Xanax in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

  “You can still back out,” he whispered close to my ear and held his lips to my temple, breathing me in. It was a rare display of affection from him, and I so needed it at that moment.

  “No,” I shook my head and turned to meet his eyes. “I want to do this. For you.”

  His eyes flashed and crinkled at the edges. “Okay.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  “But aren’t we meeting –”

  “I asked our other party to join us in the room.”

  As we approached the elevator, I thought back to our phone conversation, the one we had discussing the particulars for this evening.

  “How would you like to choose potential suitors?” I asked.

  “Suitors?” I heard amusement in his voice. “You make it sound so 1800s.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?” I snarked. “The line-up of choices of people for me to fuck?”

  He sighed. “No, nothing quite so crude.”

  “Which is why I chose the word ‘suitors.’” I waited for him to say something and was met with silence. “Well?”

  “We could arrange for you to meet some people, then you may take your pick.” He sounded so businesslike, like we were negotiating a deal, which I guess we kind of were.

  “I honestly don’t know.” I paused. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to be comfortable, Darla. I want this to be as easy for you as possible.”