He almost didn’t notice Elise releasing him, “Now sit up slowly, and give your blood some time to redistribute.”
Jonathon did exactly as he was told.
He was late to work the next morning. He’d stopped on his way in to buy flowers for his secretary; the woman worked endlessly, never once failing to anticipate his needs. Not once had he shown any form of appreciation other than mumbled thanks from time to time. It was these issues that’d kept him up last night. Ideas, plans and progress swarmed through his head like fish in the sea. Everything and everyone, from riveters to secretaries, was contemplated for better efficiency. Under his father’s care, the company had flourished. But this was the era of technology, and the sky was the limit when it came to prosperity. Call it ambition, or competitive spirit, but Jonathon Galloway knew how to take the company into the new century, and for the first time in his life he was excited to go to work.
His father was lounging in the chair in front of his desk as he entered his office, cigar smoke filled the air and he stepped to open a window. Senior was searching his son’s face as he watched him fumble with his chair and finally sit. “So, are you in?”
Jonathon noticed the spark of hope in his Dad’s eyes, “Dad, I am not only in, I am considering starting a fricking fan club!”
Senior laughed and stood up, reaching across the thick wooden desk to shake his son’s hand, “Wonderful!” He boomed, “But don’t make the mistake of thinking one epiphany is going to change the world. You have a meeting with Peter Gilbert in twenty minutes; he’s going to talk to you about computers and technology. I figured that’s where you’d want to start. Tomorrow you meet with Niles Crawford down in HR to learn about employee benefits… and so on. I’m afraid this is going to be a crash course in running a shipping company, but you’ll have the Devereux boys beside you. Their father and I had to figure things out the hard way. At least I feel like I’m giving you boys a heads up. But listen, if things get fuzzy, and they will, call Elise.”
The phone on Jonathon’s desk began lighting up, flashing with immediate need. Taking this cue, Senior turned and walked to the doorway, “Lunch?”
Jonathon nodded, “Yep!” his Dad closed his office door.
Picking up the plastic receiver, Jonathon issued a cheerful “Yes?” into the mouthpiece.
The sultry voice on the other end sent warmth to his heart, “So are you in one piece today?”
“Oh yeah! I’m more than fine. How are you today?” His tone was oddly chipper; she had always found Jonathon to be quite charming, but today, his voice was somehow different; more mature, and sexier.
“Working endlessly? How about dinner?”
Jonathon paused, thinking rapidly, “Sure. Carolina’s? Eight?”
Ellen Devereux was taken aback by his brevity. She’d hoped for a hint of what had happened during his initiation last night. What the hell, she’d find out tonight. “Sure, see you then!” She tried to match his sunny tone but hers came across depressingly flat.
As she hung up the phone she felt a shiver of excitement race through her. Let’s be real. She’d always considered him kind of a little kid; thinking of him as more of a puppy dog than actual boyfriend. But have no doubts, there was something in his voice just then. Something’s happened to him! A transition on preconceived notions about Jonathon Galloway was taking place within her, and she leaned back in her chair in the closet sized Post and Courier office. Tapping her pen to her lips she considered what they could possibly have done to him last night that would spark this kind of instant change. But her brain was muddled with the depth of his voice; the way he dismissed her hurriedly as if she was of no consequence to him. Carefully she scanned the crowd of reporters in the outer office. She turned and faced the window as she removed a steel paper clip from her drawer. Reaching between the buttons of her shirt she pinched her nipple hard, and then snapped the clip onto it. It’s a nasty habit and she knows it, but she discovered it during her college years and it helps her relax.
She left her desk early since her column was already complete. Besides, the tight clamp on her left nipple was driving her insane. No one would notice the small bulge the clip made beneath her Wonder Bra once she put on her coat, not that they’d notice her anyway. She’d basically spent the day arranging engagement notices and 50th Anniversary announcements. Her work was becoming more mundane by the minute and she honestly thought that she was considered somewhat of a joke amidst her co-workers. While they were busy investigating political mysteries and murders, she was writing about how Mary Joe and Jim Bob made it through fifty years without drowning one another. If she could just break the story of the Sand Dunes Club, they’d have to take her seriously. Hopefully by the time she got home, the clamp would have cleared her mind so she could plan her investigation into their curious ways.
Surely Jonathon will spill the beans tonight! She thought as she released the sharp clip from her breast in her bedroom. The release filled her and she slung her business skirt and top to the floor in her haste to find her vibrator. It didn’t take long for her sexual tension to resolve. Being free of the pain on her nipple caused her to relish in liberty. Every sensation was multiplied a thousand fold now as she took in a deep fresh breath of the island air. Amazed at how much she appreciated in her life now that the pain was gone.
She soaked for an hour in the porcelain claw footed bathtub that stood in the center of the bathroom, contemplating scenarios that could possibly occur at The Sand Dune’s Club. She’d read about the Skulls, the Mason’s, and even the Hellfire’s, and they all had one single mission, success. It wasn’t a jump that the Sand Dune’s members had the same goal. But this was more than trading stock market tips and drinking scotch. No, she felt it in her gut. It was much, much more.
Jonathon smiled in approval as she walked across the candlelit restaurant towards his reserved table. He stood to watch her cross the room and moved behind her chair to usher her in. The red dress clung to her skin, showing her shape in detail. Her nipples were hard through her bra and his throat tightened at the sight of them. Silver hoops sparkled in her ears, and her deep chocolate hair flowed around her like her own personal halo. He felt the pressure in his slacks as she lowered herself into the chair he held. Quickly he kissed her cheek and assumed his seat.
He held up the bottle of chardonnay, “Hope you don’t mind. I ordered this already?”
“Not at all.” Ellen suddenly felt out of her league. She’d been in this very restaurant maybe a hundred times; not once had it affected her this way. There was a distinct tingle in her panties and all she wanted to do was stare at his five o’clock shadow. It gave him a gruff, manly look; a Paul Newman kind of posture that made her want to touch him.
Jonathon caught the glance, and reached his hand to his face, “Sorry, I didn’t have time to go home and change. I was working late.”
She didn’t want to think about anything but touching him, but wasn’t sure how that would play out in the middle of the restaurant, “What were you working on this late?”
Jonathon Galloway sipped the wine; the taste of the California grapes was sweeter than he preferred but he knew women liked it. He’d asked his secretary what her favorite was. He knew why he was here tonight: to look at Ellen in that astonishing dress. Perhaps even to kiss her goodnight, or if he was a truly lucky man, she’d invite him to the island. But he also knew why she was here. The fascination she had with ‘breaking’ the story of Charleston’s most private club was overpowering for her and he knew it. He bet on how long it would take her to get to the real subject at hand, “A few things around the office needed rearranging. Dad’s got me on some training regime that sounds like mortal hell. He’s itching to play golf and fish all day I think.”
In fact, Jonathon had spent the better part of the afternoon negotiating with an extremely stubborn northern health insurance agent who was refusing to pay for treatment for an employee’s child. The woman on the other end of the line had pissed him of
f from her first syllable. That northern nasal tone naturally sounds condescending, if he hadn’t spent four years at a northern college he wouldn’t understand that it’s not meant that way. But the woman had a chip on her shoulder today and she was making negative choices. He’d been feeling that way a lot before last night. That he was merely trying to survive in his world rather than trying to tackle it, so he’d softened to her, explaining that the company needed this policy to cover the child and why. He told her the truth- that the family worked hard, they raised their kid’s right, and the wife made a mean German chocolate cake. After promising to get the recipe and forward it to her, she explained what the entire problem with processing the claim was, giving him the option to repair the issue with a few written notes from the child’s doctors. Problem solved. He thanked her profusely, after letting her know that her service to their company was invaluable.
He was a different man today and he had to admit that it felt good to be in charge of his future. When his father had told him that he’d be taking over the company in less than a year,he’d wanted to run, maybe join his friends in the Peace Corps for a few months in the Congo. It wasn’t that he hadn’t planned on taking his place in the company at some point, it was that he hadn’t expected it at this point in his life. He’d always imagined a wife, a few kids and a cocker spaniel before he’d step into the top spot. Actually, since Dempsey Devereux was older, he’d wondered if the position might not go to him. But Dempsey had chosen law school; it came in handy at the shipping company, so his father hadn’t complained. His enrollment had thrust Jonathon into the future number one position.
“So Jonathon, tell me about your initiation?”
Sitting back in his chair, he considered just telling her what happened. By morning he’d be found dead in his bed of a gunshot to the head, but he hated lying to her. “A test of my ability to control myself. They tried to piss me off, button pushing type thing.” It was the truth in a way, and a much better option than ‘Oh I let your sister tie me to the table in her attic and torture me. Then we masturbated together.’
“So when is your next meeting?” And he didn’t miss the slight toss of her deep chestnut curls as they billowed around her face.
He wasn’t naïve enough to think that she wanted to schedule her week around dates with him, “Friday.” He sipped the sweet wine cautiously.
“Oh, I was hoping we could do a movie or something this weekend.”
Jonathon was considering his future with her. Already she was a difficult woman. He could see sparks growing in her eyes until they formed brilliant burning stars. The revelations he’d had with her sister last night had confirmed that a Devereux woman was definitely for him! If he was going to take the company worldwide, then he’d need the strongest woman possible at his side. And in Charleston, and he dared the entire planet, Ellen Devereux was the pinnacle of all women. She was a perfect fit; a pair of blue jeans that feel like an old friend right from the store. All he needed was to make her forget the Club. He shifted in his seat as he leaned towards her across the white linen tablecloth. “Ellen, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course Jonathon, anything, ask away.”
“Where do you see our relationship five years from now?”
Not very many people threw Ellen off her guard. He could see the shocked look on her face, “Jonathon I have no idea. I hadn’t thought that far. Forgive me for bad math, but isn’t this our second date?”
“Hmmm.” Jonathon mulled her answer, “So the reporter’s in the spotlight, is that right?”
She smiled tolerantly, “If every single time I ask about the Club you’re going to ask me to marry you, our conversation’s going to be highly limited. You realize that don’t you?”
Jonathon laughed and he cut into his steak, “Answering questions with questions now are we?”
She threw her napkin on the table and leaned forward, “Jonathon Galloway! Don’t play games with me! I know something happened at that Club and I want to know what!”
He leaned back with a deep belly laugh, “Okay! Okay!” And he held up his hands in surrender, “Let’s see, Dad drank a bunch of bourbon and made a speech. We watched a skit about how all work and no play makes for pissed off wives and… then I drank too much. Second meeting was the part where they burned me with fire and officially let me in.” There now, he thought with a proud grin, I didn’t lie not one single time!
With their meal finished and anxious to change the subject, Jonathon wiped his face with the linen napkin from his lap. “Ellen, would you like to see my condo?”
“Absolutely! Let’s go!” She’d be glad to fuck the information out of him.
My scream sounds foreign to me as my body floats into another dimension; each throb is like a wave rolling onto a deserted beach. But like the tide, it soon retreats. I’m left feeling weak and confused
~Tara Townsend
~Tara Townsend
Path to the Pole
Mystery Lover
My alarm goes off the next morning, but I’m already awake. Though I didn’t acknowledge Simmons leaving the house, I was more than aware when he did. While enjoying the luxurious feeling of my legs against the fluffy Egyptian cotton sheets, I hear my back door open and close. I rustle to shove the most recent pages of Quinn Carmichael’s manuscript, which I’ve printed, under my pillow. Although I’m not sure why. It just seems personal to me somehow and I don’t want to share it. A minute later Patty plops down on Simmons’s side of the bed.
“So? Give me all the nasty, dirty details!” She drools with enthusiasm. I roll over and lean on one elbow, looking into her glittering green eyes. Brown hair, with somewhat of a light frizz, is pulled up into an easy pony tail, and noticing her gym clothes I marvel at how she maintains energy to exercise this early in the morning. She’s staring at me impatiently but I can’t meet her gaze. My humiliation level has kept me firmly planted in my bed this morning.
Reading my thoughts - as best friend’s do - Patty’s eyebrows pop up in light bulb fashion, “Wait, oh no, you aren’t changing your mind are you?”
My fingers fiddle with the lace at the top of the sheets, embarrassment is carved into my face. Patty’s hand touches my hair in an effort to ease my pain; instinctively my head shrinks from her touch. “Oh Tara, listen. I swear I felt the same way you do right now. It’s a complete shock to your system. After my first session, I got in bed and didn’t show my face for nearly a week. As your friend, I can’t let that happen with you. Are you listening to me?”
I nod, still not daring to look into her eyes again.
“Then you have to trust me when I tell you that this too shall pass. Right now you’re debating your morals, your values and probably your religion. Look change is hard, nobody said it wasn’t. You have to take a good, hard look at yourself and figure out what you want to do. Jonathon promised you that you’d eventually get Simmons back, didn’t he?”
In fact Jonathon ‘guaranteed’ me that I’d get my husband back. Thinking back on it I’m not really sure how anyone could make that big of a commitment. Still, it’s what keeps me going through this training maze, and the glue that is keeping my sanity hinged. I nod.
Honestly I’m proud of you!”
“Proud?” I whisper in disbelief. I can tell you that I’m not very proud of myself right now.
Patty straightens on the bed, “Look, things had gotten so out of hand with Steve and neither of us thought we could keep going. He had the Club he was all into, some business thing, and he ended up doing a lot with them while I was tending to the horses and padding around the house in my pajamas. Some days I didn’t even brush my hair. We just didn’t connect anymore. Out of the blue one night he walked in and told me to get dressed, he was taking me out.” I questioned being alone with him at all; I mean what was the point? It was over and done, cooked and broiled. And when we pulled up in front of the Jonathon house, I seriously freaked. After all, they’re the elite and I’m a horse farmer. Dinner with s
trangers at their private residence begs for a bit more effort than I’d put into the evening. But he dragged me inside and I talked for hours with Ellen,” She pauses and takes a long drink from the water bottle still in her hand then continues. “She explained to me that my husband needed me, that I needed him. But she said things would never change unless I changed them. Men will never change without guidance; if it were up to them we’d all still live in caves. I know that sounds like some hokey seventies crap, but I was so desperate to save whatever crumbs were left of my marriage that she could’ve told me to stand on the street corner wearing a pink too-too and I would’ve thought it was brilliant advice. Anyway, long story short, I met with Jonathon and the rest is history!” She reaches over and tickles my ribs playfully.
I struggle with what she said; she’s right on the money, as usual in putting my misery to words. I lift my eyes to hers shyly, “I don’t know, maybe you’re right. My marriage is pretty desperate too. I just feel so… I don’t know… dirty.”
Patty locks her eyes on mine, “I know. And that’s the point! Feeling dirty is pretty awesome! Everyone should try it once in a while. I’m tellin’ you, you can’t honestly say you’ve enjoyed life until you’ve done something so utterly nasty that it shocks your inner core. Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?”
I nod, ashamed to admit the truth with sound.
“Then, my darling, you have truly begun to live. Just because we’re looking at fifty doesn’t mean we need to lie down and play dead! Just the opposite. We’re done with all the bullshit of raising kids and cooking dinner. Okay, even I admit it was pretty cool, but it’s over now. Those kids are grown. So whether you realize it or not, this is the time of our lives. Until now, other urchins have been borrowing huge chunks of us. They don’t need us anymore, so they gave us back to ourselves. It’s playtime sweetheart!”
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