by Brogan, Kim
Thursday
Sophia, just your friend? Who are you fooling Henry? If that were true, you would invite Maggie to show her off. Maggie would certainly make Sophia jealous, look how jealous Gemma is.
It is not too late to invite her. Gemma and I can give her a ride down with us tomorrow. Cam
Friday
I am not going to get into this over the internet. I will make it up to Maggie when I get back. I will see you this afternoon. Henry
I sat staring at the screen, still wondering what the words really meant or whether I was reading more into it than there was. I hated email, you couldn’t hear the inflection in the words, see the body language. You could interpret each post a little differently, except for one thing. I could tell Campbell felt sorry for me. The last thing I wanted from Campbell was his pity. So that’s what all this hair play and flowers was about? He seems worried for me. But why? Because I was ill? Because Henry wasn’t going to invite me to London? It didn’t matter, all this proved was that I had allowed myself to care about two men and gotten my face pushed into the mud both times. What was the saying, “Once burned, shame on you; twice burned, shame on me”?
Well there was another saying I tried to live by—“The best revenge is living well.” And the only way I could live well in England was to do well in school. I turned my attention back to my studies and stayed up all night organizing notes and writing papers. At 2:00 a.m. looked up at the mantel clock in the library and ran my hand through my hair. I felt both invigorated and exhausted. The work I had done in the last seven hours was tremendous, exhilarating, and enthralling, but now I needed sleep. I logged off the computer, grabbed my things and climbed the stairs to bed.
I had decided to use my Saturday off to just vegetate. I woke up at ten, grabbed a text book and went down to do my laundry. I put a load in, grabbed a bowl of cereal and went up to the living room. I was happy to be doing my laundry because I was quickly running out of underwear and clothes.
I took a long bike ride on Campbell’s new bike and then watched a DVD while I folded my clothes, leaving them on the chair until I went upstairs. I was laying on my tummy reading my International Law book and listening to my IPOD when I felt someone standing over me. I screamed bloody murder, turning and putting my arms and hands up defensively. Campbell started laughing as I ripped the earplugs out of my ears.
“Jesus Christ, Campbell!” I ran over to the chair where my clean laundry was piled. I put on a T-shirt over my underwear and then looked through my pile of laundry for my sweat pants. I realized they were still in the dryer. I found a denim skirt and began to put it on.
“Maggie, you don’t have to, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
“Yeah, but that was B.P. Your “get to see Maggie undressed” card was revoked A.P.”
“What are BP and AP?”
“Before Pearls and After Pearls.
He rolled his eyes and snickered.
I continued to put my skirt on and zip it up, “Why are you home and why are you sneaking up on me?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. I called out your name when I was coming up the stairs from the kitchen.” He reached over and pulled on my earplugs which dangled around my neck, to emphasize that I probably had my music too loud. Then he stopped and looked down, away from my eyes, “I came home because I had a …” He paused as if he was trying to get his story right. “I came home because I had a message that they needed my opinion on some of the microbial readings in the dorm.” It might be true, but I doubted it. He looked like he was lying. He continued, “I stopped by the hospital and then came home. No sense going back to London tonight.”
My heart was just starting to slow down. I sighed, sounding a bit exasperated with him. But, I couldn’t be too miffed, he was standing there, looking so handsome in a deep royal blue sweater and gorgeous dark, gray slacks. I was pretty sure his monogram was on the wrist of the Bond Street shirt that peaked out at the top and sleeves. All in all, the guy looked like an ad in GQ. I felt all squishy inside.
“I need a drink? Mags?”
I nodded. “Sure, whatever you’re having.”
He snickered. “I was thinking some Talisker.”
“Talisker?”
“Single malt whiskey.”
“Oh, then make mine a vodka tonic, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“Fine.” He went downstairs and appeared a few minutes later with the drinks. I had taken my clothes upstairs and put my books away. Sitting down on the sofa, he pulled his sweater off and folded it like a good little boy. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “What are we watching?”
I always loved the British use of the royal “we.”
“We’re watching, Jeeves and Wooster. After this is, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you seen that a dozen times or more?”
I pretended to be coy. “Hmmm. Uh, maybe a few times.”
“No, I remember that when we watched it before that you could say all of the lines.”
“Oh, hardly all of the lines.”
He turned grinning. “Well then, most of the lines.”
“It’s a good movie.”
He leaned back with his drink and put his legs up. “Yes, it is, but let’s see what else is on.” He grabbed the remote and started surfing channels.
“No you don’t! Not until Jeeves and Wooster is over. They remind me of you and your friends.” I turned it back to the DVD.
He put a hand to his heart in mock protest. “Surely you jest.”
I laughed. “Don’t call me Shirley!”
Turning with his finger pointing at me, Campbell cried out, “Airplane! That’s from Airplane!” He put his finger down. “I love that movie.”
“I do too!”
His grin disappeared as he turned back towards the television. “Gemma hates it. She thinks it’s moronic and silly.”
“And Monty Python isn’t?”
“I guess because they bring up the Spanish Inquisition, she thinks it shows some savoir fare.”
We both laughed. I mimicked him by leaning my head back on the couch and putting my feet up on the coffee table. Both turning our heads at the same time to look at each other, we connected like we used to connect. It was that look that we gave each other at the end of a long day that said we were happy to be with each other. I know he felt it because he quickly looked back at his glass to avoid me.
“Campbell?”
He didn’t look at me, but answered with a, “Hmmm?”
“Why are you really here?”
He snorted. “I told you, I was called back to check something about the dorms.”
“Campbell, I can tell when you’re lying--well, most of the time—and you’re lying.”
He didn’t say anything, making the giant pause between us even more embarrassing. Finally, he looked over and said, “Maggie, I was worried about you being alone. You were all alone when we found you. No one had bothered to check on you, and I kept worrying that you might have an allergic reaction to the medication.”
I had a strong feeling that this was only part of it, that there was more to his reason for being home, but for some reason, he was protecting me.
“I’m fine. I wish you hadn’t given up going to your friend’s wedding just to be my nurse.”
He jerked his head around and narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that I was going to a wedding? All we said was that we were going to London.”
I blushed, “I think Henry mentioned it.”
“Henry told you about the wedding?”
“He mentioned a while back that one of his friends was getting married this weekend. I just assumed that you’d both be attending since you run in the same circles.” I was praying that I made a better liar than him.
He relaxed—clearly glad that I knew about the wedding. I have to admit, I didn’t really want to go. I hate the jackass. He’s more Gemma’s childhood friend than mine.”
I giggled and he started to laugh with me. Turning our attention to Jeeves and Wooster, we saw that it was just finishing. Campbell threw me the remote and went downstairs, bringing up an ice bucket, the Grey Goose, Tonic and a bottle of Talisker.
We watched Monty Python, drinking our drinks and laughing at the bits I started to recite. When it got to my favorite part, “It’s only a flesh wound,” I chirped and then got the giggles and couldn’t stop. I’d had three rather strong drinks and was feeling no pain. I could tell from his laughter that Campbell was tipsy too.
Picking up the remote, he stabbed me playfully in the stomach. “Only a flesh wound? Well, how about this?” He kept poking me as I tried to poke him back. I leaned over him to tickle him and found myself just inches from his face. We were both laughing. The laughter died and I was still staring at his lips, my breathing picking up.
He hesitated for a brief moment, then leaned in and kissed me, his hand tickling my knee and then his soft fingertips slowly edging up my inner thigh. I met his lips, letting my tongue find his. The sound of our mouths and tongues touching and sucking combined with the taste of the Talisker made me wet. I could smell his soap and shampoo as he kissed my neck and sucked slowly on my ear lobes. Those long arms of his wrapped around and pulled me over into his lap where he bent me down and continued to play with my tongue. That finger continued to climb ever so gently up my thigh. He stopped kissing and looked down at my skirt, pushing it up a little so he could study my thighs, his fingertips lightly grazing across them.
I watched him as he did this. It was as if he was an artist painting. The swirling on the inner part of my thigh was so delicate and so hot, I could feel my groin aching. He brushed his fingertips lightly across the lace of my panties above my folds, causing me to take in a sharp breath. That caught his attention, because he turned and leaned back to kiss me.
“Take your top off,” he ordered me, his voice husky, breath full of whiskey.
I sat partially up and took off the T-shirt. He took his hand from my thighs and rubbed his fingertips across the tops of my breast just before he started to systematically unbutton each pearl button down the camisole I was wearing. When the camisole opened, revealing my breasts, he gave a little moan. Bending down to lick and fondle them, he finally looked up. “Mags, they are so beautiful. Your pink, taut, nipples are perfect.” As he said it, he took one of them in his mouth and began to suck, hard and fast. I felt a congestion building in my groin, an aching to feel him inside.
I started to unbutton his top, so he sat up and undid the cuffs, occasionally stopping to take my face in his hands and kiss me. By the time we got his shirt off, I was sopping wet, ready to feel his thighs up against mine. I took off my top as he turned his attention to the zipper on my skirt. It was off within seconds. He gently deposited me on the couch while he stood up, slipped off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and opened his zipper. His trousers appeared to melt off of him, sliding slowly down to the floor.
Campbell looked down at me then pulled down his boxers to reveal an impressive erection. I pulled my panties down and kicked them off. They went flying over the couch. Purposefully bringing my left knee up, I let my right leg fall off the side of the couch, giving him ample room for penetration. He kneeled between my legs, spread my folds and bent down to pleasure me with his tongue. I wanted him inside so I pulled on his shoulders to bring him up to my face. He complied, lifting up and over me, our warm bodies touching, and our skin on fire.
Campbell’s blue eyes looked deep into mine as he grabbed his organ and teased me by pushing inside only slightly and then teasing smiling mischievously as he played with my desire. I pushed down, causing him to inch further inside. He pushed up on his wrists then stabbed deep inside me, pushing my body up and my head into the couch arm. I had as much of him inside that I could take. He began to slowly slide in and out, in and out. I grabbed him with my muscles and heard a deep, guttural groan of pleasure escape from inside of him.
“Maggie, you feel so good.”
I reached up and touched his face, our eyes locked together. “Do it, Campbell, do it, now.”
That’s all it took. He started slamming in and out of me, my head bouncing against the arm of the couch as he did. His eyes were glued to my breasts which bobbed as he plunged into me like a jackhammer. I could hear his flesh slapping against me. The sex was, hard, raw and throbbing. When he came it was accompanied my several deep grunts and then he collapsed, our sweaty bodies clinging to each other. I moved onto my side so that he would have room to lie down on the couch.
A generous lover, Campbell knew I hadn’t come. Campbell moved onto his side, slipping his hand down between my legs. When he felt inside of me he let out a deep breath. “My God I just left you quite a deposit.” I knew by the tone of his voice that there was more to come on that issue, but for now he found my clit and took command of it. Within minutes, my whole body was flushing with a rush of blood to my skin. My legs and abdomen tightened, my vagina was clamping down around his fingers. The electricity of the orgasm rushed through me several times until I could take no more. I collapsed back, closing my legs to prevent him from touching me.
Lying there, we stroked each other’s back and arms, both of us wanting that connection with the other. I wasn’t quite as drunk as when we started and neither was he. There was really nothing to say, we had both wanted the release so badly, it controlled us.
Finally, Campbell looked at me, “We’re going to hell, aren’t we Maggie?”
“You mean Gemma and Henry?”
He nodded.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, I hadn’t wanted to think about it so soon, but he was right. We had to decide what this meant.
I sighed. “We just made a huge mistake, didn’t we?”
He looked back and forth between my eyes, trying to find something in them, “Did we? Do you think this was a mistake?”
“I think we probably should have figured this out before you got between my legs.”
“Ah, well put. You’re right, but we didn’t. Now what?”
I loved having his naked body touching mine, our arms holding on to each other. He was warm, hairy and smelled like a very masculine woodsy musk. My breasts pushed into him, his warm thigh and leg were draped over mine. Wherever our bodies touched, we were wet and hot. I really didn’t want to think about how wrong this was. I just wanted to enjoy it.
“Do you feel guilty?” he asked.
“Of course I do. You’re dating Gemma and I’m supposed to be dating Henry. I’m not completely immoral.”
He reached over and kissed me gently on my lips. Stroking my hair, he whispered, “Would it be a crime if I tell you that I miss this?”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “You’re confusing me.”
He leaned in and kissed me again. “I’m confused too. I don’t know what I want or what to do.”
I nodded, I understood too well. But he wasn’t doing anything that helped us resolve the question that sat like a huge boulder between us. “Just tell me, are you going to leave Gemma?”
He looked at me so longingly, I thought he’d just say ‘yes,’ but he didn’t. In that moment I knew—he couldn’t leave her, wouldn’t leave her, or he didn’t know how to leave her. I felt like the fool I was. I pulled back from him, sat up and jumped over his legs to get off the couch.
“Maggie! Don’t!”
I started grabbing my clothes off the floor, running up the stairs to my bedroom. He was fast behind me. I tried to slam the door closed, but he was right there, the door flying open as it bounced off his hands.
“Mags, I know you want me to give you an answer, but I can’t just give important, life changing answers that fast. Emotionally, right at this moment, all I want is to be with you. But, the ramifications are huge. I not only hurt Gemma, but I hurt Henry, my closest friend. In addition, what do I do when you go home to the USA? I have to be the one to live with all of this.”
Shaking and weep
ing, I could hear myself scream, “You and Henry are a pair. You each have your Achilles’ heel. Yours is Gemma and his is this Sophia. Which reminds me, why is he in London with Sophia and why are you here?”
He stepped back, absurdly still naked, “You read my e-mail, didn’t you?”
I was exhausted. “Yes, I read it. I didn’t start out to read it, but when I went to use your computer to print my paper, the e-mail popped up. Okay, I’m horrible. I breached your privacy. I’m sorry. But, who is Sophia?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, letting his torso fall back on the comforter. Putting his arms over his eyes, he heaved a heavy sigh, “Sophia was Henry’s fiancée. She broke it off two years ago because she complained that he was in love with someone else. He had a hard time dealing with it. He went out and started serial dating.”
“Am I one of his serial dates?”
He uncovered his eyes and looked at me. “I really don’t know. He seems to be genuinely fond of you, but how fond, I don’t know. I do know that as soon as Sophia showed up, he canceled his plans to invite you to the wedding this weekend. Henry acts like a ‘Hoorah Henry’, but in reality, he’s very sober, extremely bright. He keeps his real feelings pretty close to the vest.”
“But he chose not to take me this weekend to the wedding.”
“I know. We had an argument when I got to London.”
“About what?”
He rose up on his elbows. “It doesn’t matter. Rather than cause more problems, I came home.”
“Yes, you came home--without Gemma.” I said with commitment.
He looked embarrassed. “She refused to leave with me, said I was being childish fighting with Henry over—” He stopped himself and swallowed. “She said she would see me tomorrow.” He turned on his side and faced me as I sat down, my torso propped up on pillows. “How do you want this to play out?” He asked.