“Sure.” Jamie ambled over to the couch.
Kelli disappeared, emerging a moment later, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Do you want a beer or anything? I have a couple drinks someone smuggled over.”
“Nah, I’m okay.”
“You sure? Cause I’m gonna nab one.”
“I’m fine
Kelli walked over to a mini fridge and pulled out a bottle. She popped the lid off on the side of the table and sat down.
“So, are you a freshman this year?”
“Yeah. I’m getting a bit of a late start. I missed the first quarter.”
Jamie watched Kelli take a long sip of beer. She swallowed and pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossing them, and holding the bottle in her lap.
“Why’d you miss the first quarter?”
She watched his eyes glance down to her body and return to her face. He was nervous, which somehow made her calm.
Jamie hesitated. “Well, it’s sort of a long story. Kind of a medical thing-”
“I’m sorry,” Kelli cut him off. “That’s none of my business.”
“I don’t mind-”
“Seriously, forget I asked. Please.”
They sat silently for a minute.
“How do you like RIT so far?”
“It’s cool. Still getting used to the classes and everything, but so far so good.”
“You’re in photo?”
“Yep.” He bobbed his head slowly.
There was another awkward silence. Jamie looked over at the coffee table, where Kelli had tossed The Apartment. He leaned forward and picked it up.
“Hey, I love that movie. Is this yours?”
“Oh yeah, I was just gonna watch that for one of my classes.”
She watched as he read the back of the case.
Another gust of wind blew outside again, and he looked up towards the windows. She curled up in her sweats, glad to be inside.
“Did you wanna hang out and watch it with me?”
***
Kelli’s mouth was soft, and warm, and aggressive. Her lips tasted of fresh water, with a twist, as her tongue hit his like vodka - sharp, and clean, and utterly intoxicating.
When they did kiss, it came naturally, the next step in an easy conversation. The night drifted by strangely and easily, with no sense of time passing, or moments slipping from one into the next. The movie ended and they fell into conversation, all of the previous hesitation stripped away. They talked more about the previous night, then slowly circled around to school and classes, before somehow crossing the threshold, leaving small talk behind, and stepping into the realm that is college. Talk of classes gave way to thoughts on life and love, work and purpose. It was the type of exchange exclusive to youth, and only possible in the late night hours, when self-consciousness and embarrassment are held at bay, and people are more honest than they could ever think possible during the day. Jamie recounted his first days at school, which made Kelli remember her first year at RIT. She told him about her roommate and the constant noises from the next room, which led to talk of sex, which strangely wasn’t awkward or embarrassing. Both felt the inevitable tingle as they went into their views on loving and fucking, the important differences between the two. Each felt the rush of blood, the shift of breath, but it didn’t change the mood of the night. It all felt somehow inevitable, and as such, there was no need to rush. Then, late in the night, after the sounds of partygoers had died out in the halls, and all they could hear was the wind outside, Kelli moved towards him, placing her hand on his leg, pulling herself against him. He turned to face her, and in an instant, everything changed. She saw the light flash in his eyes just before he closed them. He felt the brush of her hair as it ran against his face. Then, they were kissing.
He was calm and deliberate. Again, no anxiety. No hurry. His five o’clock shadow tickled Kelli’s lips, and she bit his mouth softly, savoring the tingle that raced through her body. She felt his hand on her side, pressing against her ribs, then sliding up to her breast. His fingers cupped the back of her neck, tangling in her hair. She ran her fingers over the prickly skin near the bottom of his cap and pulled him close. He wrapped his arms around her, pushed her back into the cushions. Her hands dropped from his neck to his shoulders, feeling the tight muscles, before sliding down his back. His body slipped between her legs and she spread them further apart, felt him hard against her. Kelli pulled her head back, looking into his puzzled eyes. He leaned towards her, but she again pulled away. He tilted his head questioningly. Kelli slowly stood up, and took his hand. Without a word, she led him into her room.
The wind was howling outside as Kelli closed the door, locked it, and went over to her dresser. Jamie sat on the bed and watched her light a match, the hot flash filling the room as she lit two candles and set them on a dish. Kelli stood with her back to him, blew out the match, and turned around. The candles glowed softly behind her. She dropped her hands to the bottom of her shirt, twirled her fingers in the fabric, and pulled it up over her head, taking the tank top underneath with it. Jamie’s eyes moved slowly from her belly button, to her full breasts, the nipples small and hard, up to her neck and her mouth, where white teeth sparkled as she bit her lower lip. She gave him a small, wicked smile as she approached him. The closer she came, the more she slipped into silhouette. Jamie watched the perfect outline of her body as she moved toward him. Her hands settled on his hips, then slid slowly upwards, pulling off his shirt. She shoved him back onto the bed and fell on top of him, kissing him on the neck, sliding her tongue up to his ear, then back to his mouth. She gave him a long, slow kiss, then pulled a heavy blanket over them as she rolled him over and wrapped her legs around his back.
Outside, snow was falling, whipping past the walls of the cold brick building. The constant wind roared through campus, swirling in the woods and pelting the walkways. Ice crackled on the glass of Kelli’s window, ricocheting into the darkness, as all the while warm light glowed around the edges of the curtains pulled tight against the darkness.
***
They didn’t have sex that first night. Not because they didn’t want to. If pushed a hair further, they would undoubtedly have gone for it, but things were different. Through all the hormones and kissing and hours of conversation, something else was passing between them. Something deeper, beyond either of their abilities to sense what was happening. Truth be told, if things had gone differently they would have fucked each other’s brains out that night, and then, who knows, things might have worked, they might not have, but on that first night, Kelli did something that changed things in a way she never could have expected. As she pulled the blanket over them, she kissed Jamie hard on the mouth, then reached up, and removed his hat.
He saw her looking at him, her mouth hanging open. For a moment he couldn’t tell what had happened, then he saw where she was looking, and felt the unfamiliar sensation of air on his bare head. He started to speak, then stopped, closing his mouth tightly. Kelli’s lips pressed together as her eyes moved over the dark scars criss-crossing the top of his head. She reached up and slowly, gently, placed her fingers on the thick, raised ridges. The skin was ropy and hard against her fingertips. The marks looked painful and fresh on his scalp. She didn’t know what they were from, and after a moment, she knew she didn’t need to know, not yet. She slid her hand over the top of his head and down the back of his neck. She pulled him closer, kissing him long and hard, and then, eventually, they slept.
For the first time in weeks, Jamie had no dreams. He slept through the night, waking once or twice to find Kelli lying against him, her arms wrapped around him. When he moved, she pulled him closer, burying her face against his chest. He pressed his mouth against the side of her head, smelling her hair and kissing her softly. Her bare skin was warm against his, but even still, a shiver ran up his back. He pulled the blankets tighter around them and fell back to sleep.
The room was lit by soft light filtering in through the edges of the curtains. He was alone in the bed,
but he could hear sounds in the next room. Kelli was taking a shower. He looked around the room, taking in the details of someone else’s space. There were lots of film books scattered in piles around the room. CDs leaned against the walls in stacks and against one another in precariously high towers. The walls were covered with movie posters, but none of the usual suspects, the Scarfaces and the Say Anythings that he saw through so many dorm windows when he walked the quarter mile. Kelli’s posters were all for old Billy Wilder and Woody Allen movies, the largest featured Jackie Gleason as he lined up a shot in The Hustler. Every chair arm and lampshade had an item of clothing hanging from it. The most intimate items seemed to be the most prominently displayed. A collection of bras hung from the foot of the bed. Panties were scattered on the floor and atop her dresser by the dozen. Jamie fell back onto the bed and rolled over, burying his head in the pillow. He took a deep breath, smelling Kelli on the pillows. Then, from the other room he heard the squeak of the shower being turned off. He listened carefully. Silence. He was just about to get up and put on his shirt when he heard the door open and turned to see Kelli walking into the room with a towel wrapped around her.
“Hi,” he said softly.
She looked him in the eyes.
“Hi.”
Kelli closed the door behind her, giving it an extra push ‘til the latch clicked, then she turned and stared at him. She reached her hand up to the towel and with one swift movement untucked the edge. It fell away, revealing her body, pink and warm from the shower. Jamie’s eyes ran up to her smile. She came towards him as he stood up from the bed. He set his hands on her waist and leaned down to kiss her, but she put her hands on his chest and pushed him back abruptly. He looked at her as if he’d done something wrong. She smirked, and her hands went for his belt buckle. She slid the leather through the metal loop and unfastened the button at his waist. Her fingers moved down the front of his jeans, undoing each of the buttons. She raised her hands to the waist of his pants and brought them down, bringing his boxers with them. She stood and kissed him again, all the while leading him to the bed, where she sat on the edge and looked up at him.
“You wanna fuck?”
He didn’t know if he said anything. He just found himself on top of her, kissing her on the mouth and up and down her neck. She caught her breath as he ran his tongue up to her earlobe, then gently took it in his teeth. She pushed him away, rolled him onto his back, and reached up to a shelf above the bed where she took down a condom. He watched as she tore open the wrapper, placed it on the head of his cock, and rolled it down the shaft, her fingers tickling the hairs at the base, making him harder. Kelli looked him in the eyes as she straddled his body and lowered herself down over him. He pressed his hands around her waist and held her tightly as she moved against him, her mouth open, exhaling quiet moans. She leaned towards him, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she kissed him slowly, her tongue lingering against his. Jamie slipped his hands down her back as she picked up the rhythm. He raised his hips to meet her and she gasped. He gazed up at her face through the hair that tumbled down towards him. Her eyes were closed. They moved faster. The bed frame thumped against the cinder block wall behind them. Then he came, his body tensing, growing rigid... falling limp. Kelli rolled off of him, her fingers between her legs as she rubbed herself quickly. Jamie watched as she shivered, then became quiet. Her fingers slowed as her mouth tightened and her head turned upwards. And then she was still, curled up on her side, her hand pressed between her legs.
They lay for a while in silence, listening to the radiator popping and hissing. Then Kelli opened her eyes, looking at him with a devilish smile, before standing and leading him into the bathroom. They showered together, the steam filling the room, scorching their lungs, as Kelli stood behind him, running her soapy hands ran over his body and pressing her lips against his shoulder.
Afterwards, they dressed and took the tunnels to Jamie’s building, where Kelli waited downstairs as he ran up to take his medication. He was overdue. Then they headed to Gracie’s, ate an anxious, impatient breakfast, and left, walking through the snowy quads between the buildings, both of them hyper with sex.
They took the back stairs in Kelli’s building, pausing at her floor where she pushed him against the wall in the stairwell. She kissed him gently as she ran her hand under the bottom of his shirt, feeling his stomach muscles, dipping below the waist of his jeans, brushing against him in his boxers. Jamie leaned forward and kissed her. She bit his lip gently. Then they came out on her floor, where Kelli unlocked the door to the suite and led him back into her room.
“Now,” she whispered. “We make love.”
And they did. And it was different. Not better. Not worse. Just slower, more intense. She stared into his eyes as he moved inside her. He felt her body responding to his, tightening and squeezing, pulling him in and warming to his touch. Kelli was more sensitive this time and Jamie found himself fighting to catch up. All he could hear were the sounds of their breathing, of Kelli’s moans, as they both came closer and closer, and then he felt it: Something in the back of his head popped and white light washed in through the corners of his vision. Everything fell silent as his senses went numb. When he opened his eyes, he was lying on top of her, shaking and exhausted. He rolled over and lay beside her. Kelli opened her eyes and looked at him.
“That was amazing.”
“Yeah,” he said, remembering the fireworks he’d just seen in his head. “It was.”
II
CHAPTER SIX
Jeff was different after the accident. The doctors kept him in the hospital for two days to monitor him for changes; when his condition seemed stable, they released him from care. At first, things had seemed normal, though in hindsight, perhaps not so normal as far as Jeff Pepper was concerned. It wasn’t that he was a morose man; he just wasn’t a happy man, not an outwardly happy man at any rate. He had his interests and his passions, but something in his personality always kept him standing back, watching and waiting for the other shoe to drop. This aspect of his personality had always served him well professionally, but it made his personal life a bit more difficult.
When he and Lynn first met, Jeff’s coarse edges had proven the greatest hurdle in their courtship. As an actively neurotic writer, he was all but impossible to live with. He was always turning his thoughts inside out, struggling to make sense of behaviors the typical person merely wrote off as life’s puzzles. As the years went on, Lynn’s influence had, for a time, helped to curb some of his more obsessive tendencies, while maintaining just enough of his edge to preserve “the bite” that gave his writing such inexplicable appeal. For a time, the majority of his work involved a series of productions for TV - strange, almost campy flights of fancy, many of them philosophical mysteries for Public Television, which only increased his audience, but at the same time bred talk of his selling out, going soft with age. Later, as Jamie grew older, and Lynn and Jeff’s marriage again went through a rough patch, they both retreated into their work. Lynn shifted gears and turned to fiction, writing her two poorly received novels. Jeff on the other hand returned to the topics of his youth, regaining his manic style, and building on it. His writing again grew increasingly esoteric, and with his style apparently revived, the popularity of his plays and films increased exponentially. At the time of the accident, Jeff was at the height of his popularity, and as men at the height of success are prone to do, he turned his sights on the past, and returned to his most famous work, the novel he’d written in college that had sealed his reputation from the beginning. The week before the accident, Jeff signed a high profile deal to publish a sequel to Dub Taylor - a book which his proposal described as a continuation of the story, picking up twenty five years later, with the iconic young college student now a disillusioned professor at a liberal arts college. Aside from the brief outline Jeff submitted to the publisher, neither he, nor his editor, had any idea what the book would entail. But the prospect of a sequel was irresistible, and the d
ay of the accident, a check for a near-record author advance arrived at the house, just as Jeff and Jamie were climbing into the car and heading off to the movies. It would be two years before any new writing would see the light of day.
As the creator of Dub Taylor and other dark, cult pieces, Jeff Pepper had a rather unique outlook on life. Always civil and polite, but often prone to excitable outbursts and extreme viewpoints, Jeff Pepper would never have been described as carefree. Yet, for the first week after the accident, the only word to describe him was gleeful. In fact, he was damn near manic in his sudden and overflowing appreciation for life and all that it had to offer. Yet, by the end of the week, he had begun a quick and steady slide into a deep depression, one that he would cling to for years, despite treatment, therapy, medications, and the best efforts of his family. From the moment of the accident, Jeff Pepper would never publish another book, produce another play, or pen another film, at least, not in his lifetime. The last years of his life were a cloud of unclear, undefined disappointments, and severe unhappiness. He went through a series of therapists and counselors, trying for years to shake off the kind of depression Churchill referred to as “the black dog.” Yet aside from intermittent and illusory improvement, the dog would be forever at his heels.
For two years after the accident, Jamie’s life was punctuated by moments of panic and dread. He and his mother had arrived home numerous times to find small, white envelopes taped to the front door or sitting on the kitchen counter. On every occasion, Lynn had opened the letters in a panic, rushed to the phone to call the police, and taken off in her car. Hours later, his parents would either return home together, his father looking weary and defeated, his mother visibly shaken, or Lynn would walk in the door alone, pour herself a glass of wine, and tell Jamie that his father would “be gone for a while.”
On/Off - A Jekyll and Hyde Story Page 11