by KT Morrison
“Shit, man. I didn’t know you weren’t coming home...”
“So what? ...What about Mike?”
“Nah, he’s not coming either.”
“That’s last minute...”
“Yeah, some girlfriend or some shit.”
Jay had been off to the side, his matches done, but now he was being waved on again. He strode out with energy, reattaching his headgear as he went. When he faced his opponent in the center, he crouched low, his head up, watching the other wrestler from under his brow. He didn't look mean or fierce. Calculating. That's what it was. He knew he could beat this other guy, was just waiting to see how his opponent would let him win. He didn't need to get in the guy’s head, didn’t need trickery of any kind. He would win with skill and strength. And he did, the first point going to him in under five seconds.
Max said, “It’s just Columbus Day, Connor. I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”
“Mm,” he hummed with irritation. “So... What? ...You going to Maggie’s?”
“No, I’m solo, I told you. I have a total shit-ton of reading to catch up on. She’s going home by herself. Her parents have her booked up. She’s picking out her wedding dress.”
“That’s nice,” he said, the speaker on his phone muffled and his voice was constrained with exertion.
“What are you doing?”
“Laying on the couch.”
“You’re at home? You’re already there?”
“Yeah. Why you think I’m mad? If I knew you and Mike weren’t coming I could’ve just bailed...”
“How’s Mom and Dad?”
“Fine. Dad’s at work. Mom’s making me breakfast right now.”
Max laughed, “You sound mad, but everything you’re saying seems pretty good...”
“I know, I know. I’m going to be bored.”
“You got a girl you’re missing?”
“Me? No.”
“How about that blonde girl? ...Marley?”
“Yeah, I see her sometimes. Others too...”
“Hound dog.”
“Love em and leave em, Maxy.”
“Mm. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Maggie was applauding now, her pale hands coming together in furtive, delicate resounding. The claps sounded disjointed and distant in all this open space. Her ponytail shook with her movements.
Jay was back up again, tugging at the legs of his shorts, getting down in a crouch to start it all over.
“Yeah, you’re a lucky guy. How is Maggie?”
“The best,” he said, watching her watch her lover throw lesser men around, knowing she was excited, knowing that her heart rate would be elevated by this other man.
“Yeah, too good for you, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You keep an eye on her, buddy. She might catch on what a pathetic little worm you are.”
“Fuck you.”
Connor laughed with honest jubilation, always happy to land one too close to the mark. “Nah, I have faith in you. You’ve fooled her this long, you got that wool right over her eyes.”
He heard his mother’s voice in the background then. Her familiar lilting sing-song, calling out, Con-nor, break-fast.
“Better go feed your fat fucking face, asshole,” Max said with comical coldness.
Connor laughed, said, “You bringing her to Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah,”
“Tell her I said Hi, buddy.”
“I will.”
“Ciao. Gotta go annihilate about a dozen pancakes and some bacon.”
“See you,” he said, turning the call off without taking his eyes away from his dirty little Maggie.
The match was wrapping up below. While Max discussed home life at the Milton Compound, he’d watched Jay take down and submit or score on the bigger farm-boy. The farm-boy wasn’t angry—as though Jay was already determined the winner. Like he won by pedigree. So far the obvious champion his opponent merely submitted to fate, not once believing he would be the victor at all. Jay was certainly the center of attention. His teammates deferred to him, the coaches doted. A camera crew, one with a professional looking setup befitting national news, had recorded the activities but the camera mostly had followed Jay. And up front, most telling of all, was the woman he was engaged to marry. She stood side by side with Jay’s father and she watched him. Watched her lover display his masculine superiority with his tight unitard and his muscles and his bulge noticeable even from here. Shouldn’t they be made to wear jockstraps? It was vulgar.
But in many ways, Max admired him.
She should have told Professor Carmichael something. Said something about how she knew Jay and why he might hold her hands and kiss her cheek. Instead, she had said nothing and let the moment pass. Like she was too afraid to mention it, afraid he would read her guilt in her voice, in her face, so instead she ventured nothing. But that was an admission of a sort, just the same. It wasn’t the reaction of someone who was only an innocent friend of his son; someone who would say what a great guy Jay was, how she knew him, how they met... She said nothing, and in that nothing was volumes. Volumes of weight and meaning. What did he think?
He was smart. He knew his son’s worth, knew what appeal he had. Probably could read in his son’s attention to her that they had been intimate. So profoundly embarrassing.
When the match had ended, Jay had signaled to her with two fingers, mouthing the phrase Twenty minutes with a nod, a wink, and a confident smirk. Professor Carmichael had said he had to meet a colleague for lunch and politely extricated himself from her company with a plastic smile. He did, however, pause, look down thoughtfully, and then he told her he was serious about his office being open to her. That if she needed to talk, he would love to listen. There was a passing glimmer in his eye, something warm, and in that moment she felt some of the fiery shame extinguished. She thanked him; he waved and slipped into the pathway traffic.
Now she sat on a granite boulder protruding from the grass at the edge of a path near the door she had seen Jay disappear beyond. The sun was bright and its touch was warm but the air had a chill. Nonetheless, she had her bare legs stretched out straight and held together, the heels of her loafers pitched in the grass. She didn’t like to get sun, liked her pale pinkness, but the feel of it was nice.
Her mind wandered to Jay and what he might be doing. The dirty thought crossed her mind that he would be naked right now, standing under a spigot of hot water, rubbing slippery soap all over his hard muscles. She entertained the notion of slipping in there, imagining him alone, without his teammates. She could come in behind him, watch him a moment. Then, when he caught her looking, he would take her, pin her to the wall. And unlike the day in the co-ed washrooms of Keegan, when she had clumsy sex with her Max, she imagined Jay would pick her up and throw her around like a toy; she could run her hands over him while he banged her off every wall in the boys washroom. Her legs up around his hips, his big arms wrapped around her, that huge thing he had penetrating her substantially, no matter the angle. Then she pictured him not alone. Pictured his whole team watching, wondered what shape their faces would form as they bore witness to their team captain fuck some little naked whore in the shower. Some tramp who wandered in looking for some action...
“Maggie? ...”
She flinched; her legs jumped and her knees drew up as if to protect herself. In that moment she was distinctly aware of a warm lubrication in the creases between her legs.
She laughed seeing Jay’s face in comical puzzlement. Her sunglasses had shielded her eyes, and he struggled to read her expression. He said, “Did you fall asleep?”
“I might have,” she laughed, her hands coming up and absently testing the heat on her cheeks, worried she was blushing. She put her sunglasses in her pocket.
He held his hand out to her and helped her to stand, said, “Let me buy you a coffee before you have to go.”
“I'd love that,” she said, and when she stood she didn't let his hand g
o.
It was a weird moment. She stood with him, looking up into his eyes. They stared at each other for a long while, faces working in restrained mirth, eyes darting and studying, trying to glean from one another what each of them intended. They broke into smiles and Jay kept her hand in his and led her to the path.
“You did well out there,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said. “Just an exhibition.”
“Your dad said you're going to the Championships...”
Jay laughed, shrugged. “That’s a long time from now. A lot can happen.”
“I have faith in you,” she said and squeezed his hand.
“One thing at a time. Conference is next month. How about you? I want to pose for you again...”
“I’m finished.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. I couldn't have it hanging over me. That drives me crazy. I used other models.”
“Did I let you down?”
“Not at all, Jay. It's...I'm getting married in the summer.”
Shoulders hunched, he rolled his head around.
She continued, “I canceled on you. I...I feel so guilty about what we did.”
“Don’t feel guilty,” he said without looking at her.
“I do. And this? ...” she said while giving his strong hand a squeeze, “...is so dangerous. You know I know your dad? Well, you come up to us after I finished telling him I was getting married this summer. You kissed my cheek and held my hands... Your dad knows Max.”
“I was excited to see you.”
She glanced at him, gave him a smile. “You gushed.”
“It wasn't very manly, was it?” He smiled now too.
Truth was it had turned her insides to jelly. If his father hadn't been standing at her side, she would have crammed her tongue down his throat.
He said, “I don't know where that puts us. You don't need me to pose for you, you're getting married, it's dangerous to be seen with me...but you're here...you came to see me...you're holding my hand...”
She stopped, and he stopped with her. They stood still on the path and pedestrians passed around their obstruction. Looking in his eyes made her heart beat furiously. She struggled with what to say and Jay’s gaze lowered to her lips, parted and struggling to form words.
“Maggie, I think about you all the time. I think about what we did, how you felt, your skin...”
He brushed his knuckles against her cheek.
“I didn't say I didn't want the danger.”
Gray eyes roamed her face, his hand dropped to cradle her jaw. His plump lips lowered to hers and her eyes closed, her lips parted, and she let herself be kissed.
3
Field
Thursday, October 5th
He sighed when he saw Jay’s lips come together against Maggie’s. Jay had plump lips, masculine still, and he and Maggie had pressed together so slowly that Max could witness the soft shapes osculate against one another; press and squash and join in some combined shape, two sets of lips becoming one.
Jay stood taller than Maggie, his head bent to hers, one big hand on her waist, the other holding her face to be kissed, stilling her against his gentle passion. Max’s heart beat strongly once, a powerful surge, his ears rang; his cock grew. Maggie came up ever so slightly on her toes to meet Jay’s kiss; a line of muscle stood out as her calves flexed on her slim, pretty legs.
When they came away, Maggie still held Jay’s gaze. They stared into one another and Jay licked his lips. Letting her chin go, he took up her hand, and they walked down the path again.
Max stayed close, but not so close that one of them might discover him. He wasn’t sure if Jay even knew what he looked like. He knew Max existed. Knew, and had such little respect for the sanctity and protocol of a wedding engagement that he’d seduced her, then fucked her in her own dorm room. Jay was a player. Dominant, and masculine, and smart. He’d played dumb games with Maggie almost as though he didn’t respect her either. I mean, telling her he needs to jerk off to make an erection go down. That wasn’t true. He lied to her; thought she was sexually immature enough to fall for that. What was he up to? What did he want from Maggie? Was it only sex?
Weaving through Drillfield, meandering gravelly paths, flattened grass, dirt trails, they came to a wide concrete walk that ran under towering oak trees with leaves that had lost their vibrant fall color, still hanging stiffly in their branches, gone the shade now of bright ochre. He lost sight of them a few times in the fluxing throng of students. Keeping his pace, he didn’t panic, caught up with them. They still held hands. It still made him hard. The jacket he wore reached the tops of his thighs, and he kept his arousal pointing up; no one would see it.
Soon they came to another clearing. They were away from the parking, deep in the campus, and now in a different park. This one lesser in scale, more pronounced in substance. Tiered planters, a fountain, benches…there was an open field beyond, tree-lined, bordered by a dense wood. The grass plain was dotted with tight clutches of students gathered on blankets, laying under broad elm trees, chatting, napping, and reading. There were two separate groups playing frisbee, and one group playing Hacky Sack. To the right, near the fountain, was a small, low building with a peaked roof, styled to mimic a Swiss mountain chalet. It was an open-air café with a lineup of students waiting to order coffee from the uniformed baristas standing at a polished wood counter.
Jay took Maggie by the hand and they waited in line. Max wandered past them, keeping his distance, looped around the fountain, stood hidden behind it and watched them. They stood in line, their hands together. How long were they going to do that for? It seemed so loving. This was more than just being bad, being naughty, this was distinctly cheating now. Holding hands was an act of affection, not lust. Why would she want that from another man?
The two of them talked, flashed smiles at one another that seemed to sparkle in the fall sunshine. Maggie cocked her head as he spoke, absorbing his words, responding with affectionate nods. They ordered.
When their drinks were ready, they took them and walked near the fountain, side by side—no longer holding hands—and they crossed between the two thick elm trunks, into the grass, and wandered through the field.
Max angled left, walked the path still, his eyes on them. The path crossed an iron bridge over a stream. At the bank of the stream were woods—the same woods that formed the tree-line that rimmed the field. Exiting the path before crossing the bridge, he got on the grass and walked casually along the edge of the woods, his hands in his pockets.
Maggie and Jay had made their way across the field and were up ahead, in his line of vision now, getting themselves to the woods’ edge so they were out of everyone’s way; so they could be alone. Max slipped into a gap between two cedars and onto the hard pack of the woods’ floor, the atmosphere cool and dark. Pathways beat around the trees from students crossing through occasionally, but mostly it was littered with beer bottles and wrappers and dried brown evergreen needles. He wound his way through the trees, headed in the general direction of where he’d last seen them. When he thought he was close, he hitched right, headed to the bright sunshine filtering through the break in the woods.
When he came to the edge, he saw them not more than two dozen feet from his vantage point. Maggie held both their drinks—two tall lattes, steam billowing from lids, corrugated cardboard sleeves under her fingers—and Jay lay his jacket on the grass so they could sit. He took the drinks, and Maggie slipped her poncho over her head and lay it next to Jay’s jacket. They sat.
Max watched them for fifteen minutes but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Every once in a while Jay would say something that would make her laugh, and she would throw her hair back and a half second later he could hear her sweet familiar sound, out of sync with the movement of her mouth.
This was burning him. Igniting in him a bed of glowing coal. Not jealousy this time, not some exquisite, tortured pain he could hold his hand up to and feel its heat, let it warm hi
m. This was a temperature he didn’t like. This was anger. It was pointed and sharp and had little of that slippery chrome pleasure that he enjoyed when she was sexually intimate with Jay. This was too far, and he didn’t know why she thought this was okay.
He wanted to cry with the pain of seeing her happy with another man, just sitting and talking; he saw how vulnerable he was, and how fragile their love could be. Under that virtual sadness was rage. He wanted to smash, and rail, and scream in anger. Throw a tantrum. That’s all he could do. Wouldn’t last two minutes with Jay; he’d just spent an hour watching him throw men around that were twice Max’s size.
So he watched, and he steamed, and he explored his sadness. She mesmerized him. She was beautiful. He watched her profile as she talked, her mouth held in a perpetual half-smile, that smile opening like a flower, her whole face lighting up when she was amused. Eyes sparkling, her lips gleamed with a glossy sheen—she was his angel. He wouldn't lose her. He would do anything for her.
Jay’s laugh was a low sound. He sat cross-legged while Maggie hugged her knees and cocked her head, bashful eyes narrowed on him, being flirtatious. Jay talked and listened, and he tossed blades of grass into the breeze.
Then Maggie bit her lower lip, her eyes held on Jay’s. They seemed to stop talking as Jay realized this signal she was sending him. White teeth clenched that plump lower lip of hers, and her shy little mouth peeled into a hesitating smile. Slowly their mouths came together again, and as they got closer Maggie’s eyes lowered to watch Jay’s lips. They kissed.
He was stabbed again, deeply and painfully. Maggie was a young student falling in love. Max didn’t exist in her world, and she was happy and carefree to explore her sexuality, her identity. It focused his mind on his possession of her. He burned for her. She was his. Short of being property, she belonged to him. That was absolute. She’d said she would marry him, she’d said A-thousand-times-yes to his proposal. What did it all mean? Just sex, Maggie. This is just sex. What you are doing right now is so wrong.