Stepping inside, the entrance way opened up into a well decorated living room. A sweeping staircase lead up to the upper floors. There was a small armchair, as well as a simple couch. Photos lined the walls, which were covered in cream colored wallpaper. A fire flickered in a small corner fireplace. He could see the wedding photos of Jacqueline and her husband hanging high on the wall. Her husband was a stoic figure, always wearing his military uniform. "I'm sorry for back there," she said, draping her coat over a chair.
"What for?" David asked, following behind her. He loosened his layers in the comfortable heat of the house.
"The fact that the English are totally fine with coming into countries where they aren't wanted, using all of the resources, and leaving. They kill children in the street." She turned around and looked back at him. She smiled, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. "Feel free to take off your coat. I'm really bad at being proper.”
David slid off his suit jacket and draped it over the coat rack.
"Drink?" Jacqueline asked, walking towards the bar in the corner of the room.
The expensive oak bar was well stocked with a number of half-full bottles, which by the look of them, were fairly high quality. David paused for a moment as he moved towards the kitchen table. "Just straight whiskey for me, please. Thank you.”
"Rocks?" Jacqueline asked, pulling an intricately carved glass from one of the shelves.
“Please."
"A man after my own heart." Jacqueline sat down across from him, gently sliding the drink across the shiny wood table to him. She sat back in her chair, crossing her shapely legs. Her skirt rose up around her shins, which she didn't seem to mind. Jacqueline paused to take a sip as she continued. "The presence of those troops simply to keep a handful of rebellious locals in line shows just how crooked their priorities are. People are starving. People are being executed in the streets. Homes are burning. My views are…"
"Complicated?" David asked, jumping in.
"I'll say it, Anti-English," Jacqueline replied. Sitting forward again, she unhooked the top button on her blouse. Her fingers trailed softly across her exposed collar bone. "I'm talking too much. Lets talk about you. Why are you here?”
"My wife was Irish," David replied, taking a sip of his drink and shifting his eyes back up to her face. He glanced around the quiet room. Pictures of Jacqueline and her husband lined the walls. The happy portraits of the couple suddenly reminded him of how much he missed Jessica. He looked up at Jacqueline and smiled, "Maybe I feel like I owe this to her. Call it penance.”
"I assume she kept up on what was going on?" Jacqueline asked.
"Jessica's family came over when she was five. I think she had a cousin or someone executed in '16." He fingered the wedding ring hanging around his neck as he continued. "She kept up, but was a bit isolated to really be involved with it. She took her feelings out on causes like suffrage.”
"What brings you here, though? For you to come all the way over here, it must mean more to you than merely something she believed in." She sat back, recrossing her legs.
"I'm not really sure," David said, swirling the liquor in his drink. He ran his fingers through his hair as he shifted his glance around the room. David could feel the unfamiliar sensation of relaxation flooding through his muscles as the alcohol hit his system in pulsating waves. He leaned back against the chair and looked across the table at her as he continued. "My old man was so much of a drunk, we never talked about anything like that. It was just him and me.”
"I take it you and your father didn't get along?" Jacqueline nodded, her face softened in sympathy. "I can understand that.”
"Dad was... Dad. I spent a lot of time hiding in my room over my books," he paused and took a collecting breath as he continued. "You get tired of hearing about how you killed your own mother.”
"I'm sorry," she replied, her eyes shifted awkwardly toward the floor. “Childbirth?"
"Don't be. It's been a long time." David replied. He ran a hand through his hair as a smile slowly spread across his face. He chuckled slightly as he continued."You know, I think you're the first person I've told that to...besides Jessica that is.”
"I'm flattered." She paused for a moment and tossed back the drink swirling in her glass.
Seemingly emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her system, Jacqueline looked up at him, her eyes glassy in the light of the apartment. "Would you like to go upstairs?" She smiled softly, the words practically falling from her lips.
"I'm sorry?" David asked, choking on his whiskey.
"Would you like to go to bed?" Jacqueline asked. Her question was quick, her voice quivering with the slightest touch of nerves.
David fingered the wedding band around his neck as his tongue tripped over the thoughts racing through his head. "That's what…"
Jacqueline jumped in, noticing his hesitation. "It wouldn't mean anything." She pushed herself up from her chair.
Standing in the middle of the room, she tugged at the pins holding her up-do together. She shook her head, letting her honey brown hair fall heavily around her shoulders. For the first time, he could see how thick her wavy hair actually was. She looked him up and down again. Her voice matter-of-fact as she continued, "I'm lonely...And I don't think I'm horribly far off the mark when I say that I think you are too."
David looked down at his hands, which were clasping his glass tightly. He could barely get a hold of the thoughts tumbling through his head. He put down the glass, and forced himself to sit back in his chair. His fingers instinctively clutched the wedding ring hanging around his neck.
Jacqueline grew visibly uneasy as his silence continued. She forced out an antsy chuckle as she looked back across the room at him. She reached back, running her fingers through her thick hair as she fiddled with the clasp of her locket. "Please don't tell me I've scared you off already."
David smiled, brushing his fingers through his hair. He could feel himself blushing like a schoolboy with a crush on an older woman. He stammered with uncertainty as he continued. ”Not at all. Trust me."
She looked at him, her eyes were wide. "Why are you so quiet then?"
David stood up, and took three large steps across the room to where she was standing. He tugged at his bowtie, which suddenly felt like it was strangling him. The knot easily came apart, the thick blue corduroy hanging loosely around his neck. "I guess I'm not used to beautiful women offing themselves to me. I was a little surprised."
"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit," she replied, taking another sip of her drink. She reached out for his hand, a soft smile on her face. Her hand lightly traced down his bicep, sending a light shiver through his muscles. Her voice dropped an octave as she continued. "Why don't we go upstairs."
David grabbed her hand, letting her take the lead.
The stairs opened onto a spacious landing, which lead to the door to the master bedroom.
Opening the door, the focal point of the room was a large, four poster, king sized bed. More pictures of Jacqueline and her husband lined the walls. There were hastily painted political signs leaning up against the wall.
Jacqueline smoothly made her way around the room, turning on gas lamps. With enough light to see by, she turned back to face him "When was the last time you've...?"
David paused for a moment, surprised at the bluntness of her question. He watched the green satin of her dress glide across the curves of her body as she made her way back towards him. He felt a pang of guilt, "I-I..."
"Your wife?"
David shook his head, seeing a flash of nerves in her expression. He moved towards the bed, and sat down stiffly. "No. There's been a few times since..." He tucked his hands in his lap, wanting to hide the sight of his hands trembling. Once again, he could feel a deep shade of crimson spreading across his cheeks. "You?"
"The same," Jacqueline replied. She moved towards the bed, letting her jacket drop to the floor in a heap. The satiny, sleeveless blouse under the jacket emphasized her deli
cate, porcelain colored shoulders and her toned, lean arms.
"It wasn't that I didn't love her," David began, shifting awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious. Hearing the words coming out of his own mouth suddenly reminded him of Anna, and everything she had accused him of doing. All of a sudden, he felt like the monster she had accused him of being.
Jacqueline jumped in, cutting him off. "We're social creatures who crave affection. Just because you've been intimate with other women doesn't mean you didn't love your wife any less. At least, that's what I choose to believe."
She stopped in front of him, her legs brushing against his.
The gas lamps emphasized the green undertones in her eyes, and cast a halo effect around her head as he stared up at her through tired eyes. David caught himself sucking in a sharp breath as he gazed at her, transfixed.
She gently sat down next to him. Her finger brushed over the sensitive skin of his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her pace felt slow and deliberate, every brush of her fingers overwhelmed him with pangs of desire. As he looked up from the work of her delicate hands, he caught sight of her biting her lower lip slightly. David forced out a collecting breath in an attempt to keep control of himself as a surge of endorphins flooded his body.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders. David's eyes snapped open, suddenly remembering his scars. He felt a hitch in his breathing, waiting to have to explain what had happened to him.
She ran her fingers through his hair, tickling his scalp. Her voice dropped a breathy octave as she continued. "Help me with my blouse." She sighed softly as he pushed the satiny blouse back off her shoulders, exposing her girdle underneath.
Jacqueline stretched out on the bed, holding his eye contact. "Next to me," she whispered. David laid back, trailing his fingers down the delicate material of her corset. Taking his hand inside her’s, she ran his fingers between her legs, letting him feel just how wet she felt. Her hands went to her skirt, fumbling for the clasps. She stood up, tugging gently at the heavy material.
"Would you leave it on?" David asked. His body ached to get under her skirt. His erection dug awkwardly into the front of his pants. He stood up, letting his hand trail slowly down her forearm.
Jacqueline let the hem of her skirt slowly drop back down, leaving it fastened around her waist.
David gently guided her body away from him. She closed her eyes and forced out a shaky breath, arousal already cracking her polished veneer.
David let his hands roam across her toned midsection, his fingers lingering around her breasts, which were still trapped underneath her form fitting corset.
With his other hand, David reached down, running his hands underneath her skirt, her fingers caressing every inch of her legs. He hiked up her skirt around her waist, gently encouraging her to lean forward against the bed. She spread her legs and looked back at him, her voice a breathless whisper. "You certainly know how to get a girl going."
David fumbled with his zipper momentarily, freeing himself from his constricting slacks and pushing himself into her from behind. Jacqueline moaned softly, spreading her legs further apart.
Her hand was between her legs, stroking herself at a frenetic pace.
With each thrust, the volume of her moaning became louder. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her right hand braced against the bed post as she continued massaging herself with her other hand.
"Lay down," she said, stopping him. She turned around, guiding David onto his back on her plush mattress.
"But-"
"Trust me."
"Fuck," David said, pressing out a shaky breath out as a surge of pleasure overwhelmed him. He grabbed her thighs, squeezing as a breathy moan slipped from his lips. Every time she moved, he felt himself inching closer to finishing. Her movements were slow and deliberate. She grabbed his hands, guiding them between her legs as she rode him.
Her muscles clenched around him, as her body collapsed, overwhelmed with her climax. The sensory overload from her energy became too much for him, sending him falling off the peak of arousal as well.
"It's been a long time since I've had it so good," Jacqueline said, rolling off of him after a moment of exhausted silence. Her cheeks blushed a crimson shade of scarlet, which quickly spread over her chest. She grabbed a lacy robe which was laying on the floor as she crossed the floor to her make-up table.
"You weren't so bad yourself," David replied. He rolled over in bed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He cracked a smile, relaxation coursing through his muscles. He took a moment, laying on his back and staring up at the plaster ceiling. "My toes are tingling."
"So are mine."
David rolled to a sitting position and grabbed his pants from the floor.
"Have you been back to see your son?" Jacqueline asked. She paused for a moment before she continued. "I'm not overstepping, I hope."
"How did you know?" David asked.
"The picture in your billfold. I saw you pull it out when you went for your money."
"No," David said. He let out a quiet sigh, a sense of regret flooding into his voice. It was the last picture he had. It was from when they had taken Thomas to the Brooklyn Zoo. Jessica's pregnancy was beginning to heavily show, as she crouched on the grass to pose with their son. "You aren't over stepping... I haven't been back to New York since I left."
"Would you be angry if I asked why?"
"Embarrassment?" David asked, directing the rhetorical question to himself. "Hell, I'm not even sure my sisters-in-law would let me see Thomas right now."
"Why do you say that?" Jacqueline asked. She pulled her hair up off her neck in quick up-do. She looked up at him, curiously. "Did you do something for that to happen?"
"Nothing like that," David replied. He rolled over and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from her bedside table. Grabbing a book of matches, he rolled onto his back and lit the cigarette with steady fingers. "I was really broken, and I left Thomas with my wife's sisters. They seemed to think I was handling the situation incorrectly and running out on my son."
Outside, the sun coming up over Dublin seemed like a dim lightbulb in the sky, providing light, but little warmth for the frigid city below.
Jacqueline turned towards David. "I'm sure you did the best thing for him at the time."
"I just didn't feel like I could give him what he needed." David replied. He could feel a weight sitting on his chest.
"Were you in Europe?" She asked, changing the subject after a brief pause. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes, which were sitting on her make-up table. She stood up and crossed the room. She sat down next to him on the bed.
"France..."
"Mustard gas?" Jacqueline asked. She ran a gentle finger over his scars. She slowly exhaled a lungful of smoke as she looked over his body. After a moment, she sat back in bed, hiking her knees up to her chest as she continued. "I did some time as a nurse during the war. That must have been awful."
"We bailed out of the trench, or it would have been much worse."
"I can't even comprehend," Jacqueline said, her voice trailing off softly as she ran her fingers gently over the burn scars lining his back. "That must have been terrifying. I saw the after-effects, but I didn't have to run straight into no man's land."
"When you're functioning purely on adrenaline, the body is capable of doing some strange things," David said. He took a long drag on the cigarette. "I wish I could get that same high now. Maybe I could face this all with a little more courage."
Jacqueline sat back and recrossed her legs. "I would say you have been courageous."
"I don't feel like it." David replied, exhaling sharply.
"Bravery and courage aren't the same thing in my mind," she said. The words came quickly, and naturally. By the sound of it, this was a matter she had thought a great deal about. "You don't have to be brave in order to be courageous."
"You should just run away from me," David said, pulling his shirt back over his shoulders. "Far away."
"Explain," Jacqueline said,
sitting up abruptly. She ran her fingers through his hair, her lips pursed slightly. "Why should I?"
"I told you, I'm broken," David said. As he continued, his voice was suddenly distant and unemotional. He shifted his eyes away from her, locking his glance on a spot across from the room, suddenly afraid of her seeing the emotion he could feel creeping into his expression. "I'm an awful, broken, unfit excuse for a man. Everyone who comes close to me seems to end up worse for wear."
"I'm sure that's an exaggeration."
Drowning in the East River Page 16