by Diana Dwayne
“It must have been so hard for you,” I respond with a double helping of patronization. “It must have been like being in jail where every one of your moves was scrutinized, feeling so imprisoned, but exposed. Oh wait! That was me,” I say, looking longingly toward the kitchen door. I’m not great at sending messages telepathically; although I’m sure Sarah could give me a few pointers in regard to the dark arts. I just keep thinking, “James. Bring me a beer with no less than two shots of something hard in it.” I’m not quite sure why I’m making the voice in my head sound spooky, but there it is.
“Yeah,” Mark says, “sorry about that.”
“Not your fault,” I respond as James finally comes back through the kitchen door, holding two beers. At first I’m shocked, and to be honest a little impressed with my psychic abilities, but it quickly becomes apparent that he’s just finishing his first beer and moving on to his second.
“You wouldn’t believe what’s happening out there in B.W. right now.” B.W. is his ridiculous way of saying, “The Business World.”
“Yeah?” I ask, only partially interested as I’ve moved from telepathy to body language, but James isn’t getting it.
“Yeah,” Mark responds. “One of the companies that me and the guys invested in is preparing a hostile takeover. They’ve had their eyes on Opulence for years, but McDaniel always found a way to dodge the noose,” he says, a smile crawling up one side of his face like an insect that you just know will swiftly fly away, “or the icepick as it were.”
“Would anyone like cake?” my mom asks. When quick scolding doesn’t work, my mother always goes for the cake.
“Sure,” I say.
Beth and Simon take a moment away from their quiet reassurances to each other that “it’s okay, nobody knows,” to quickly nod their assent. Mark and Sarah just sit there, staring at me. My family isn’t usually like this, I promise. I mean, their behavior is as predictable as the tides, but usually there are more of them to offset the borderline psychosis of Mark and Sarah.
“How did it happen?” Sarah asks. “Did he bleed out, or did he aspirate into his lungs?”
“Where did Andrew and Jillian go?” My mother asks. She must be that naïve. Andrew and Jillian are very different from one another. Andrew’s the quiet type. By quiet, I mean, the man is a librarian. Not a metaphor, his job is working at the public library, checking out books to people and shushing them. Jillian is more—well, you’ve met Jillian.
The thing that they have most in common, and what makes my mother naïve, is that it’s not only possible, but probable that the two are off somewhere either inside or outside having sex. I like to tell people that they met in a group for sex addicts, but the real truth is that Jillian went to the library where Andrew works one day and was so impressed by the fact that he shushed her and held his ground that it turned her on. It turned her on so much that the two of them got it on in the women’s bathroom. According to Andrew, it was a slow day otherwise.
“Maybe that’s what it was,” Sarah says, finally removing her glare from me and setting it on her husband.
“What do you mean?” he asks, somewhat nervous at being on the wrong end of those eyes. Yeah, that’s the kind of woman my asshole brother is married to: she even scares him.
“I mean, what if it was a business thing,” she says impatiently, “you know, like someone wanted him out of the way so that the acquisition could go through.”
“Not going to happen,” Mark says, still looking at me. “Waite’s already taken over the company, and he’s just as stubborn if not more so than McDaniel was.”
“Huh,” she says. “Just a theory.”
The back door opens, answering the question regarding the location of Andrew and Jillian. “So,” Andrew says, trying to fix his hair back in place with his fingers, “have we brought out the cake yet?”
Chapter Eight
Opulence
Part of me had thought that last night would be the night for James and I, but by the time my family left, I was too tired and James was far too drunk to be very amorous. I’m hoping that my body is returning to a normal schedule, as it’s now seven o’clock in the morning, and I’m wide awake. I haven’t been fired, but I think it’s safe to say that I’m not going to have to worry about going into work today.
James is snoring in bed next to me as I slither from under the covers and put my feet on the soft, inviting carpet. The sun is just coming over the horizon and this is, without a doubt, my favorite time of day. Most of the world isn’t awake yet; at least in this time zone. Everything is so quiet, peaceful. For the next hour or so, I will be the sole-creator of my morning.
Growing up in a house with six brothers has made me appreciate the little things: A few moments of silence in the morning, getting up before there’s any other motion in the world and, most of all, the luxury that comes with being completely ready for the day before anyone else can interfere.
Now it’s just me and James; James and I. It’s nothing against him, but I’m still going to enjoy the serenity of being alone with the morning, even here. I head downstairs and put some coffee on. I don’t usually drink more than a cup, but James lives off of the stuff.
With all of the commotion last night, I haven’t really had time to process what Jillian said about James’s financial situation. Don’t get me wrong, it was never the money that I was interested in, I would just really like to know why he felt the need to lie to me about it. It’s not like he really has to worry too much about me leaving him; I’m happy with him. I love him.
I get in the shower. I start to breathe in the steam, but my phone rings before my long, brown hair has had a chance to soak up very much water. About the last thing in the world that I want to do right now is leave the comforts of hot, running water, but I cannot abide a ringing phone.
I get out and don’t bother with a towel for anything but my hands as I pick up the phone from the side of the sink.
“This is Rose,” I answer.
“Hi Rose, this is Sam Waite. I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but I’ve taken over as CEO of Opulence.”
“Hello, Mr. Waite,” I say. “What can I do for you?”
“Well,” he says, “I know this may not be the right thing to ask you right now, given your ordeal over the last couple of days, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming back to work as my assistant. There’s a lot of stuff that I need to go through with this change in power, and I could really use someone with your experience and expertise to give me a hand.”
“My expertise?” I ask. The man almost sounds respectful. I don’t know if I could work for someone like that.
“Well, I don’t really have the time to go through interviews right now, and from everything I’ve heard you’re the best there is.” He takes a breath, and I try to adjust to taking a compliment from someone in a position of corporate power. “Listen, I would understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable coming back here after everything that happened, but I do want you to know that this is a serious offer, so I’d be willing to give you a fifty percent raise.”
“Fifty percent?” I repeat. Granted, I wasn’t making a boatload before, but a fifty percent raise would be huge.
“I was hoping that you could come in today. There’s a lot of work to do, Rose. If we’re going to get this company back on track, we need to get started now.”
“I understand,” I say, walking from the bathroom, dripping and naked to the kitchen. “I don’t know how to—”
“Look,” he says, “I have to let you go right now. I’ve got a meeting with one of our old investors. I’ll be honest, it was one of Rory’s friends, and I’ve got to convince him that I’m every bit the pit bull that McDaniel was. Otherwise, I don’t think we’re going to be able to hang onto the account. Do you think you’ll have a decision in about an hour?”
“An hour,” I repeat, trying to remember how to form original sentences. “Sure,” I say, as James wanders into the room, half-a
sleep, “I can do that.”
“Thanks Rose,” he says, as if I’ve already accepted the job, “I look forward to hearing from you. I think we’re going to make a great team.”
With that, the line goes dead. James is zoned out in a state of semi-consciousness, being propelled forward by the promise of coffee. I don’t dare move. He’s never seen me naked, and I don’t know if this is how I wanted it to happen. The problem is that if I move, I’m pretty sure that he’ll become aware of my presence.
What is my problem? This is the man that I love, the man that I’m going to marry. I’m more than ready to make love with him. I think I’ve built this moment up too much in my head, and there’s no way that’s not going to lead to disappointment. I want him to see me.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Hey,” he says, not bothering to look in my direction. James is not a morning person. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that my being naked is even going to register before he’s had at least one cup of coffee. “How did you sleep?” he asks.
“Not bad,” I say. He’s pouring his coffee, and I’m starting to get a little frustrated at the fact that he hasn’t noticed me yet. “I got a call from the new CEO of Opulence,” I say. “He says that he wants me to go back. He’s offered me a fifty percent raise.”
“That’s wonderful, honey,” he says, with about as much enthusiasm as I’ve ever seen in him at this hour; that is, slightly more than none.
“I don’t know if I’m going to do it,” I say, taking a step toward him and trying to think of what pose I want to be taking when he finally looks over and notices me. You know what? It doesn’t even matter. “Hey James,” I say.
“Yeah?” he’s taking his first sip of coffee. His eyes are rolling back into his head at the taste of the caffeinated beverage that’s going to make him a functional human being.
Right now, my hair is just wet enough to be extremely malleable, so I pull it over my shoulders, half over each side of my neck, and let the ends of my hair rest on my breasts. My hair is just long enough to obfuscate my nipples. “Do you like my hair like this?” I ask.
He finally looks over and my heart is racing. As soon as what he’s seeing registers, the coffee mug falls from his hand. The mug is plastic, so it doesn’t shatter, but spills its contents all over the floor. We both like a tidy house, but neither of us are bending down to clean it up.
“Oh my god,” he says.
My heart is racing, and I wasn’t aware that this much adrenaline could go through my body without it somehow rendering me incapacitated somehow, but I just stand here and breathe. I’m looking into his eyes, and he’s looking at my body. The anticipation is killing me, but I don’t have anything witty to say, so right now, it’s all on him.
“You’re...” he starts, but doesn’t seem to know how to speak and take me in at the same time.
Okay, now I’m just getting really nervous. Is there something wrong with me? Do I have weirdly shaped nipples or something? I know I’m not fat, but I’m not model-thin either. Is that what he was expecting? I knew that I should have waited until nighttime with the lights out. There’s something wrong with me, and now he knows it. What the hell was I thinking?
“You’re beautiful,” he says finally, a smile coming to his lips, and my fear and insecurity are snatched away in a second.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to be suave, nonchalant. “Tell me though,” I say, “do you like my hair better down like this, or—” I take a deep breath as I pull my hair back, collecting it at the back of my head and putting it into a quick ponytail. “—up?”
“I like it, uh,” I think this is the first time I’ve seen him rendered so near speechless. “I just like it,” he says, finally, and I can’t help but laugh a little bit at the captain of the football team, the most popular guy in school, so entranced by my naked body that he can’t get out a single, viable sentence.
“Well?” I ask. “You know, it’s really cold standing here naked and dripping wet.” I’m doing my best at being coy. To be honest, I think I could recite The Declaration of Independence right now, and he’d be just as mesmerized. This is the most powerful that I’ve ever felt in my timid little life, and I’m kind of enjoying it. “Are you going to come over here and warm me up or aren’t you?” I consider winking, but decide that that might be a bit much.
In a moment, his arms are around me, and my brain is hardly able to keep up with the sensations that are coming through my body. I’ve always been so prim and proper, but if this is what I’ve been missing, I might just have to change that.
His lips and his fingers are weaving a complicated pattern all over my body, and I hardly care that the floor is drenched in shower water and spilled coffee. He bends down to kiss my nipples, and I take a sharp breath. There’s a pulling inside of my body that I don’t quite understand, but I can’t help but allow myself to follow it.
His skin is smooth and tan beneath his shirt as I pull it above his head and throw it over my shoulder. I’m so quick to reach into the front of his pajama pants that it surprises both of us. He’s already thick and hard, and it’s starting to dawn on me that this is going to be my first time. This is actually going to happen.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited, but I’m also more than a little nervous. I’ve talked to a few of my sisters-in-law, and they all said that they cried their first time because it was so painful. I know that it’s just one of those things that happens with this particular type of physiology—that of a woman with a still-intact-hymen—but I’m not sure that I’m ready for it yet.
My mind is quickly changed as James slides a finger into me. It’s a feeling that I can’t begin to describe. His touch is firm, but gentle, soft, but ravenous, and I’m ready to melt all over the floor and mix with the shower water beneath me. He stares into my eyes, and I return the gaze as his fingers find my clit, and it’s all I can do to keep my feet on the floor.
I know that this isn’t the first time for James. Back in high school, there were all sorts of stories about him, and he was honest enough as to which ones were true and which ones were just rumors. Most of them turned out to be rumors, but this isn’t his first time.
He continues to grow in my hand, and I stroke him from tip to base with my whole hand, pulling the pleasure into his body as he’s pulling it into mine. I’m starting to get a little nervous about the hardwood floor being so wet with me struggling to stay standing, so I ask him if he’d like to move things to the bedroom.
He smiles at me and asks, “Are you sure?”
If I wasn’t before, I am now. “Absolutely,” I say, feeling the fire in my eyes having grown absolutely beyond containment.
Without another word, he kisses me deeply and wraps his arms around my lower back. As he lifts me up, I pull my legs up and then around his body as if we’ve done this a million times before, and now he’s carrying me through the living room, up the stairs and he finally sets me down gently on the bed.
“The sheets,” I moan between heavy breaths. “They’re going to get wet.”
He doesn’t seem to understand me. He just answers, “Mmm-hmm...” and I stop worrying.
“Maybe we should set a towel down,” I say, a little too practical for my own good, “this is my first time, you know.”
“I know,” he says, but keeps kissing the hollow of my neck and down my body.
“Really,” I say. My tone isn’t mean, but it’s not quite what he was expecting, so he jumps a little, startled. “I think there’s a dark towel in the closet,” I say.
“It’ll be—”
“Please?” I ask. How could he possibly say no to a twenty-eight-year-old virgin, naked and willing in his bed?
He chuckles. “Okay,” he says, and he goes to the closet to retrieve the towel.
For a minute, I’m afraid that I’ve just killed the mood, but as he slides the towel under my naked body, his touch brings it all back. My hair and, well, other parts of me are wet, but the rest of m
e is drying quickly in the morning breeze. James picks up where he left off, kissing my breasts and slowly moving his way down, down, and when I feel his tongue running against my clit, I’m overcome with a sharp kind of warmth that makes it difficult to breathe in the best possible way.
For everything else that’s been going on in my life, right now I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
* * *
First time’s down, and I’m cuddled in close to James. He started slow and gentle, but a hymen is a hymen. I know that I didn’t orgasm from penetration, but I would imagine that’ll become a lot easier by the time I get a little bit more practice. The lack of pain in the future is probably going to have a lot to do with that.
I’m half-asleep, and I’m far too comfortable to move. Of course, this is the exact moment that the phone starts ringing. Waite. I had completely forgotten because of the whole, you know, de-virgining thing, but now I’m racing downstairs, naked to get to my phone before the man hangs up.
To be honest, as I answer the phone, I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to tell him. The fact of the matter is: regardless of my innocence, everyone in the office will know that I was hauled off to jail for suspected murder. I mean, I’m sure they also know by now that Melissa made the whole thing up in that crazy little head of hers, but will a fifty percent pay raise really be worth all of the hassle?
Fifty percent.
“Hello,” I say, answering the phone.
“Hey Rose, this is Sam Waite. Have you had a chance to think about my offer?”
“I have,” I answer. “I just want to ask a couple of questions first, if I may.”
“Of course,” he answers in a cheery tone that’s going to take a little while to get used to, “fire away.”
Great, now I just have to think up a couple of questions to ask the man so I don’t sound too eager. “Will my day-to-day duties be about the same around the office?”