by Nate Allen
From his perspective, he had needed her that February weekend. That opportunity should have been reserved for him considering the circumstance he thought. He had been there whenever she needed him and it was an occasion that merited a withdrawal from the friendship bank. If they were truly friends, she would’ve been there for him, the fact that she wasn’t, and not just wasn’t …but sprawled out with another fella stung. He had buried one of the few remaining people that loved him just days before and was desperately in need of some affection, a lover’s touch. But she wasn’t interested in being brought down by his sentimentality and in all actuality neither was he. He needed some release of the tension he bore, and she needed a good fuck …and she got an average one, or so it appeared to Jake.
He greeted her with a warm loving hug when she arrived, a cool calm exterior, and the offer of a cold beer masking his fevered mind. It had now been two months since it had happened, but his memory still burned with the image. He’d felt challenged, as if the younger guy brought something to the table he didn’t, aside from the age difference, and as a consequence he set out to remove any doubts she might have of his ability to accommodate any and all of her needs. And so, …as he had scripted in his mind, while Nine Inch Nails “Closer” echoed in the background like the caller at an industrial rock square dance, instead of a “swing your partner, dosey doe,” it would be crass to say he correspondingly fucked her like an animal as the lyrics suggested, but suffice it to say the event was “raw” in nature …punitive …and impolite. It must’ve sounded like a kitchen screen door banging in a windstorm for the duration of the CD.
And yet …the angst was born out of love and the same unquenchable desire for the woman, and though he would have ceased at any moment if she had asked, instead she took it like a champ. She was an intuitive woman, she knew that as strong as he was, as different as he was, he was silently struggling with the idea of her being with other men …though unaware of the knowledge he had of them. This was part of that give and take, the “tit for tat,” of the relationship where she gave him something he couldn’t get elsewhere …but rightfully expected something of equal value in return. Besides, like a good spanking, the redness would be gone by daylight …and his fever broken.
This evening’s experience hadn’t been to her liking however, it was not what she had come for or what she expected of Jake, not his role in her play, or the position he played on the team so to speak. She would tell him the next morning as she dressed to leave that she hadn’t really enjoyed it, that she wasn’t really into that “hardcore shit” …or at least not on that occasion, and if he wanted to see her that evening, he would have to change his game plan.
She expressed what her desires and needs were, and if he thought he could handle that she’d give him a call later. Relieved of the load he’d been carrying, he didn’t need to reply, she would call around 6:00 and they made their plans accordingly. It was a night that would stand out as their masterpiece, their #1 Hit on the charts, people would’ve paid to watch.
They met at the usual place, Leon’s. It had all the trappings of a fake hook-up, you know the kind married couples sometimes arrange to instill a bit of excitement in their relationship. She arrived first, but he wasn’t tardy, she just lived closer. They didn’t immediately approach each other, yet stood across the room for a time each examining the other as if they had never met, revisiting the initial attraction. They would drive back to her house separately, he had once again come with that hired-hand attitude about him, aware of the work that needed to be done, but now refocused and mindful of the fact there were other contractors bidding for the same job. At this point he was extremely familiar with the house, had now been in it on numerous occasions …or outside it looking in, and strangely felt at home. Once again, the traction thing, she would prepare a pallet on the floor.
He understood the importance of the evening, like a lovesick condemned man being served his last meal, it was that intimate opportunity he had requested and was starving for. The weeds and briers that had blocked this path now properly disposed. He had waited and plotted for months to revisit the emotions she produced in him, the perfection of that initial weekend that life, the circumstances of their situation …and intruders had soiled in the interim. There was no “spanking the kitty” on this occasion, no rude slamming of kitchen screen doors. He would leave no delicate part of her untouched, but gently this time, with love and tenderness, as only someone who truly cares can, like the song says: “Who doesn’t long for someone to hold, who knows how to love you without being told.”
Last night had been about him and what he had needed, the opportunity to exorcise those demons of Tony and her that she didn’t even know existed for him. Tonight would be his gift to her, his effort to show his appreciation and love, and in doing so distance and distinguish himself from all others in her life. They began this dance like lovers not strangers, each now quite aware of the other’s body. He would take more time in undressing her than she’d taken in getting prepared. Like a Do-It-Yourself striptease, enjoying each inch of her as he revealed it, her excitement growing in the process, until she could no longer wait to expose him.
You probably never met a man that brought his own soundtrack with him, but he did, and he could read her body with the knowledge and expertise of a man who had built an instrument, written the song, had arranged its climax and knew she was close to hers. As she began to gasp, the impression of her fingers deep in his back, he took her there slowly, keeping it just out of reach and making her wait, the darkened room thick with lust and anticipation, “you could feel it coming in the air.”
She was almost wrestling with him, climbing him like a ladder from beneath in an attempt to get to that peak as if suffocating or starving for it, as if she hadn’t been there since the last time he’d taken her, when with a genuinely sincere confession he whispered, almost unfairly, “Can you feel how much I desire you?” Then he brought it home, rang the bell twice like the postman, delivered her package, and just like that they melted into one, their bodies becoming indistinguishable one from the next, it wasn’t merely physical, it was spiritual, …and mutually so. He would absorb the moment unlike any other. He had that awareness of its place and value in his life.
She lay there spent, glowing, beautiful, and voluptuous, like a dark haired Marilyn Monroe, beyond satiated. The “do me” girl had gotten done …and properly so. He had sufficiently satisfied all her needs and then some, and she told him he could have her anyway he wanted, but he already had. In the “doing” she had a way of making him glad to be a man that was entirely her own, leaving none of his physical or emotional desires unmet. It would be a difficult act for anyone to follow, including them. The time constraints, the absence of opportunities, and stress from outside sources would make it next to impossible. Not to mention that expectations after such an encounter can be recipes for disappointment, but both knew they were capable of accomplishing it in that regard and that is often 90% of the equation.
He had once again reestablished himself, JOB ONE: complete. He had also eliminated the competition for a while, JOB TWO: complete.
And he had definitely caused her some confusion amidst the euphoria of it, but she would have to straighten up and put it out of mind in a hurry because Glen would be home tomorrow. It was going to be difficult to behave as if something hadn’t happened. It was of such a magnitude she almost wished she could tell him.
It goes without saying …most of the time we think of affairs as consisting of two individuals, one or both of which is involved with a spouse or significant other. But there was more than that going on here, and uncertainty as to what it all meant. It would be a valid question to inquire about how he could go so long between the occasions and maintain that level of interest in the woman and even see it intensify, or why she kept defaulting back to him. It was more than just the “forbidden fruit is the sweetest” apparently. For better or worse they seem to have found something necessary in each
other they couldn’t satisfy elsewhere. Despite the long periods apart the emotions remained intact, the opposite side of that “out of sight/out of mind” coin being that sometimes “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
But there was a growing hazard amidst, unknown to either of them, but we’ve seen evidence of it. The man who’d had sex with an abundance of women had never had to share one like this. Sharing implied a degree of possession, and while the woman hadn’t given that part of herself to him, somewhere during the course of that first weekend at her house he had gotten a thread of the fabric of his being snagged on an end table …or the sharp edge of the raw emotion, and that “thread,” that emotion, had attached him to her, unintentionally yet undeniably so, and this outing had only reinforced it.
But in the romantic physics of it all, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction …and the strengthening of that attachment would also serve to make him more vulnerable where she was concerned. He had been operating like a well-oiled machine in his personal dealings up until then, and the introduction of that one all-important aspect was like a flock of birds flying into a jet engine. It hadn’t brought him down but it had definitely knocked him off-course.
There’s a reason it’s called “falling in love”… It happens unexpectedly, uncontrollably, and sometimes it hurts. As mentioned early on, “to want something you can’t have, to have something you can’t keep,” was part of the initial allure for the man, but it’s a pursuit that don’t usually end in happiness. The abundance of conflicting emotions and resulting complications of this romantic timeshare were starting to tax the man. And when it was said he had gone from being “different” to being “weird,” we aren’t far from “weird” becoming “dangerous,” …to himself and others. That “thread” had already begun to unravel, and the weight of events would quicken the pace.
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CHAPTER 11
A CRIMINAL CONVERSATION
“Making love,” is an overused misstatement, the truth of the matter is you can’t “make” it …like a rainbow it simply occurs, a result of the fact all the necessary ingredients are in place, and the circumstances right …then recognized and appreciated afterward …when it has already been made. A natural byproduct of shared emotion that happens all on its own …or doesn’t.
And it had happened, they’d made it, and both of them had felt it. But like two willing participants in an unethical social/sexual experiment, combined in the same situation, having the same experience and the same result …they would have very different responses to it. He would revel in it, while she would retreat, a delayed allergic reaction of sorts. As if knowing it was there and she couldn’t stay …was worse than never knowing it at all.
And then came the period of dormancy, Jake had come to hate that aspect of the relationship, but it was typical of it from the very beginning. They had spent more time together initially because of the fact that it had begun around the cluster of holidays that had occurred. It was now late May, nearing Memorial Day, his work with Rhonda winding down as his lawn work was in full swing and yet trying to occupy his time in other means, with other women, to keep from going insane, but like a toothache she was never far from his thoughts. Rhonda had sent him to a one-day seminar to get a certificate in online-investigation, they’re called MCLE credits, or Minimum Continuing Legal Education credits. Essentially it allowed her to charge more for Jake’s services, and he subsequently got a little more himself.
He was already relatively proficient at some of the generic aspects of the course, though it was largely geared towards finding people’s hidden assets, and much more in-depth stuff than her clientele required, the biggest thing Jake did for her was find her clients, and they often didn’t leave much of an electronic footprint, but the knowledge would prove helpful, as it came with some database accesses he would use to try and learn a bit more about some of these men Rae was communicating with. He was also extremely familiar with the courthouse and how to use the criminal and civil record databases, and he thoroughly looked into everyone he could identify …who was local. He had routinely done background checks on everyone his ex-wife had been involved with, anyone who would potentially be involved in his son’s life, and he extended that concern to Rae.
A couple of the men had been helpful by providing their phone numbers in the emails, some he just had a first name, some he had both as part of their electronic signature, or their actual email addresses, like his own, a combination of initials and name. There were obviously other means of contact, since Tony was not among them, but he knew Tony’s name and address, and had eliminated him as a threat, and hopefully, as a competitor through his stunt at the bar, not to mention the way he had taken care of business at Easter. Tony was pulling a lot of young leg anyway, and he thought Rae was hot …but in a “hot for her age” kinda way.
He began by doing Internet searches of all the email addresses, looking to find perhaps a listing on ebay, or craigslist. Checking ISP addresses in an effort to identify geographic areas, and reverse phone number look-up search engines. It was helpful …if you can call finding that sort of information about men who want to sleep with a woman you love helpful. The police generally had a low opinion of unlicensed investigators like himself, but he knew a couple who had children that played ball in the same league as his son, and he occasionally enlisted their help with stuff such as running license plates, asking advice, etc., and running names through their databases every time his son’s mother changed partners. He would enlist their help under similar premises where Rae was concerned, not to mention he was riding by her house with the frequency of a private security guard, even borrowing Chunk’s truck on occasion to avoid the off chance she might recognize his.
He did it in part out of a desire to better understand what she was looking for, what she found attractive about each man, but also to make sure she was safe and that there weren’t any unsavory types in the bunch. Two men of interest showed up in the emails. Rae and Vincent had history, or so their communications would suggest, he appeared to be one of the men she landed on when she’d previously “fallen” outside the marriage. Jake found his profile on one of the social networks, created a fake account and sent him a friend request pretending to be a guy he went to college with. It worked, and once he had access to the guy’s profile, he found him to be, like Tony, relatively harmless. But one guy raised the hair on the dawg’s back, and that was William Barry.
William Barry was a bad man. He was that good-looking bastard that the rest of us men hate. He could read women, their weaknesses, their sensitivities, and he used it to his advantage. The type of man who could beat a woman, and have her apologize as if she had it coming. And he had done just that, and somehow his name popped up in Rae’s inbox. The guy had been kind enough to include a couple of photos, the kind of profile pictures the dating websites discourage you from posting, his body littered with tattoo’s of the jailhouse variety. He had also included his phone number, a 704 area code, a reverse-lookup of which came up with nothing, it was obviously a cell number, but concerned, Jake performed a North Carolina Department of Corrections Offender search and found he had a small list of convictions, but they were of a nature that worried him… Drug Possession; done time: Assault on a Female; done time …served 44 months, and while he had been out of jail for a couple of years now, that last one was the sort of crime that doesn’t happen as a mistake, Jake thought. It represented a flaw in a man’s character with a high rate of recidivism, and somehow he had managed to get into Rae’s life.
She had met him through her father’s church, volunteering for a community outreach helping revitalize a part of southeast Raleigh for lower income families, and he was working construction. She had the ability to turn her apparent lack of attention on and off like a faucet when she found someone she wanted to take notice, and like a predator he sensed her hemorrhaging neediness. There was a reference to some upcoming availability in the email she had sent. So using the woman�
�s email account he’d been visiting daily for the past four months he wrote the man, following her note with another accelerating the date and arranging a meeting, and then of course erased any evidence of its existence and its subsequent reply. He had concocted a plan to intervene and discourage the suitor. In a manner of speaking, it was a plan that was about as logical and ridiculous as a female astronaut strapping on an adult diaper and driving cross-country to kidnap and potentially kill a rival for her lover’s affections, but ridiculous enough that it might in fact work.
He got there before the agreed upon time to avoid missing him or drawing unnecessary attention to himself, that psychasthenia thing perhaps. He thought he recognized Barry, he was a big fucker too, a product of the Tarheel state’s prison yard workout facilities, and all kinds of imaginary nastiness was going through Jake’s head. Maybe we should be providing inmates something other than free weights to make themselves more menacing Jake pondered. He appeared to be a generous man, as in he was giving it in prison, and someone else was on the receiving end. He had the man’s phone number, and using a prepaid phone card he’d purchased with cash at the Western Union near Rhonda’s office, he gave the man a call so he could identify him for certain before hanging up.
He watched as the fella had a number of drinks, ignored the attention of a few local patrons, and continued glancing at his phone, the “Unknown Caller” ID of the phone card origin prohibiting him from returning the call, not knowing of the ruse or the fact that she was never coming. After an hour or so he appeared to have grown frustrated and tired of waiting, squared his bill, and left. Plan in motion, Jake followed and placed the call to 911 before he deliberately bumped into him at a “Stop” sign just minutes from the bar, slight enough to do minimal damage, but enough to require an introduction.