by Kim Karr
Being a dutiful husband, I made sure to come home early. In those evening hours, I decided to not dwell on the fact that I couldn’t be inside her. Instead, I set about wooing her. I brought her flowers and chocolates, for that I earned a pass to second base. I palmed her breasts and then put my mouth to one nipple, sucking strongly. When I switched sides, she moaned so loud, I knew I could make her come in just that way. But I stopped. If I couldn’t come, I figured it was only fair she didn’t.
I also took my wife to dinner, and then on long walks through the park where we talked about ourselves.
Two nights ago I told her all about my friends. The trouble I’d gotten into in college with drugs. And about Emmy. How she had issues, and I felt responsible for her. And how it had taken me a very long time to realize I wasn’t.
Last night when we walked, I explained more of my fucked up family dynamics to her. Told her why my mother was the way she was. It wasn’t an excuse. I just understood her. It was because of my father. I told her that I despised the man for his weakness. That I had a love/hate relationship with my mother because of it. It was twisted, but it was who we were. At bedtime, she slipped under the covers in just her underwear. And after a hot and heavy make out session, she moved my hand to her panties, where I slowly teased the edges of them. I stopped there. And fuck it was so hard. I really wanted to see if she was wet for me. I really wanted to make her come, but I didn’t because what I wanted more was her so hot for it, she might explode if she didn’t get it.
It was all about control.
“James,” she said again.
I leaned across my desk, touching my lips to hers. “Yeah, baby.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I laughed then. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sure I do.”
I opened the paper. “Look what was printed today.”
She leaned forward, her arms planted on the desk to take a look. God, the things I wanted to do to her in that position. “Oh, why would they print that?”
“To show the world your gorgeous tits,” I griped.
Something flickered in her eyes, and I was pretty sure it was amusement. “I’m wearing a bra, James, I’m not topless.”
It was enough to drive me crazy. “A pushup bra,” I corrected. “And I bet with cleavage like that, every Tom, Dick, and Harry will be imagining thrusting their dicks in it.”
I knew I was.
Lindsay laughed at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re letting your imagination run wild.”
I glared at her, and then I told her how much I disliked every man in the world seeing her fuck-hot body. Seeing what was mine. I told her I wanted her to stay home, barefoot in the kitchen. I left the pregnant part out. I didn’t want to terrify her. I even shared my fantasy of greeting me at the door naked part.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, straight faced.
My brows practically hit my forehead. “Really?”
I was getting excited.
She laughed again. “Really, as soon as you build a time machine to transport us back to the fifties.”
“Funny,” I gritted through my teeth.
“James,” she scolded. “Be serious.”
“I am.”
“Well, you’re acting jealous for no reason. It’s almost ridiculous.”
I leaned over the desk to kiss her. “You asked,” I muttered.
Seriousness set in when she looked into my eyes. “You understand that it’s my job.”
I shrugged. “I do, but that doesn’t change how I feel. And, since I’m putting it all out there, I don’t love that you’ll be traveling a lot.”
Her expression grew ever more serious. “It’s not a lot. Most of the time I shoot right here in New York, and even then my schedule isn’t packed. But maybe you could come when I have to travel, and we could make it a mini vacation.”
I stifled the smile that twitched the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, maybe. Just let me know far enough in advance, and I’ll see what I can do.”
She circled the desk and put her arms around my neck. “Good, now that that is settled, is there anything else I should know about your friends before we go to dinner with them?”
Before I answered, I kissed her, hugging her tightly to my chest, then I pulled away and placed my hands on her hips. “I think I told you everything. Just remember, Phoebe and Jeremy’s relationship is new, and I have no idea how serious they are.”
It was Friday night, and I’d arranged for Lindsay to meet Phoebe, and the new guy in her life, Jeremy McQueen. This introduction I knew would go much smoother than the one last Sunday, and I also knew it was important because even though Lindsay and I were doing great, she was still worried about being a part of what she called my world.
Jeremy lived in a loft in Lindsay’s neck of the woods. And I think that helped ease her nerves even more.
Although I wanted to keep my hands on her, I forced myself to take her hand. “You look beautiful,” I said.
She looked at me brightly. “Thank you.”
I kissed her one more time, and then said, “Let’s go.”
Lindsay was mostly quiet on the ride to SoHo. I waited until we got out of the car to ask, “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head and feigned a smile.
I rang the bell. “Don’t be nervous. Relax, baby. They’re going to love you.”
She squeezed into my side.
Somehow I felt my chest swell. She felt safe with me, and I relished in the feeling.
“I’m not nervous,” she said.
“Good,” I kissed her head.
When the door opened, it wasn’t Phoebe or Jeremy. It was Max, one of the chefs from Catch. “Hey,” he said, “Come in. Jeremy and Phoebe are running late, but they should be here shortly.”
I introduced Max to Lindsay, and he brought us to the kitchen. There we got a drink and watched Max make sushi rolls at the same rate we each consumed them.
Lindsay was wiping a drop of soy sauce from my mouth when I heard the door open.
“Jamie,” Phoebe squealed, soon after.
“Phoebs.” I smiled and hopped off the bar stool to meet her in the middle of the kitchen. I hugged her and whispered, “I think you’re going to love her.”
To my surprise, she pulled back to look at me, and then said, “I think you already do.”
Stunned, it took me a few moments to refocus. She was smiling at me. I turned my head, wondering where that came from, and saw Jeremy. “Jeremy,” I said, letting go of my hold on Phoebe and grasping Jeremy’s hand.
“Good to see you, James. How’s the head?”
“Harder than ever,” I joked.
We all laughed. I’d told Lindsay all about the bar fight that resulted me having to get my head shaved, and stitches.
“Lindsay,” I called, outreaching my arm.
She hoped off the stool like the supermodel she was, and walked over to us.
I put my arm around her. “Baby, this is my best friend, Phoebe St. Claire and her—” I paused.
“Boyfriend,” Jeremy quickly added. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jeremy McQueen.”
Well, there you go.
“Hi, Lindsay,” Phoebe said, giving her a quick hug.
“Max,” Jeremy greeted the chef as he walked toward him and shook his hand. They spoke quietly for a few moments.
“Baby, Phoebs and I have known each other since ninth grade,” I said.
Lindsay clasped her hands together. “Oh, then she should have some really good dirt to share with me.”
My hand went to her behind and I tapped it.
Lindsay jumped in surprise.
I leaned in close to her and whispered, “You already know everything naughty about me that you need to know.”
But my whisper wasn’t soft enough because Phoebe rolled her eyes.
“What?” I said, raising both brows.
She wrinkled her nose and gave me a slight shove. “There are some
things I’d rather not know.”
The three of us laughed at that, but I noticed Phoebe was staring at me. I gave her a look. She mouthed the word, baby.
I shrugged.
“Congratulations are in order,” I heard Jeremy say, and then I heard the pop of a champagne cork.
Phoebe was still staring, but then she hurried over to the table in the living room and grabbed a wrapped box. She rejoined us just as Jeremy was filling the flutes with champagne.
Excited, she handed the gift to Lindsay. “Just a little something for the two of you.”
Lindsay beamed with enthusiasm. “James, it’s our first wedding gift.”
I beamed as well and then kissed her on the cheek. “Go ahead, open it.”
“Yes, open it,” Phoebe assured her.
Lindsay carried it to the island where the plates of sushi had multiplied and looked to me again. With a slight huff of laughter, I nodded toward her in reassurance. She was worried about breaking etiquette. Although she wasn’t an Upper East Sider, she must have known that the older generation of East Side women believed gifts were not meant to be opened in the presence of those who gave them. God forbid you hated it and had to pretend you liked it. I couldn’t care less about that.
Lindsay tore the package open with excitement and right then I knew she really did want this to work as much as I did.
She wasn’t like anyone I had ever dated. She was warm, kind, and genuine. And she was good for me. I knew this. And I also knew that was dangerous.
“I like her,” Phoebe whispered to me.
My smile was wide. “I knew you would.”
“You’re different with this woman at your side.”
I made a face. “How so?”
“I don’t know, softer. You’re gazing at your new bride adoringly. I’ve never, ever, seen you act like this, nor have I ever heard you call a woman baby.”
I leaned in. “Calling a dude soft isn’t exactly what they want to hear.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t screw this up, Jamie, I mean it.”
I wanted to roll my eyes back, but instead I just stared. She had a very valid point.
“Come on, let’s join her,” Phoebe said and tugged me that way.
When we reached the island, Jeremy had just set the glasses on it and Phoebe went to stand beside him.
I focused on my girl, while Phoebe kissed Jeremy.
“Oh my God,” Lindsay cried as she held a pewter bowl in her hands and then clutched it to her chest.
I have to say, it felt so good to see her happy, and I knew then we were going to be just fine. But then she started sobbing. “What is it, baby?”
“Read this,” she said, as she showed me the inside script on the bowl. It read, “May your future be bright.”
“Hey,” I soothed her. “It’s only a salad bowl.”
Still, she cried.
I took her in my arms and pressed her to my chest, and then I glanced at Phoebe and mouthed, “Thank you.”
When I pulled away, Lindsay looked at Phoebe. “Thank you so much for accepting me. It means so much.”
“Is everything okay?” Phoebe asked her.
I sighed. “It was a rough weekend.”
“His mother refuses to accept our marriage,” Lindsay blurted out.
“She will,” I said softly. “Just give her time.”
“And your friend too, she wants to break us up.”
“Emmy,” I whispered and I knew that said it all.
Phoebe took the glasses Jeremy had set down and handed them out. “It’s time for a toast.”
Lindsay inhaled deeply and brushed away her tears and I gave Phoebe a slight smile.
“To beginnings,” she raised a glass. “They aren’t always smooth but what matters is that the future remains bright.”
“Cheers,” Jeremy said looking at Phoebe.
“Cheers,” I repeated.
“Cheers,” Lindsay said as she clinked each of our glasses.
Max raised his own glass. “Cheers, and it is time to eat.”
We all laughed and moved toward the table, which was already set.
“So how’s work?” I asked Phoebe.
“Still walking the line, but I hope not for much longer.”
I nodded. “The club renovation is still a go?” I asked, knowing she was hoping opening up a nightclub in the hotel would attract more of a crowd.
“It is,” she said. “In fact, Jeremy got me everything I needed to make initial projections and I sent out the requests for investment earlier tonight.”
I looked over at Jeremy and gave him a nod. “That’s great.”
She then told Lindsay and I about the ultra-modern fixtures and lighting, and the design of the bar. She went on and on and, by the time we finished dinner, not only did we have a vivid picture of what the club would look like, we were all a bit buzzed. Max had left long ago, leaving dessert in the refrigerator.
I cleared my throat and grabbed Lindsay’s hand. “So, I was thinking,” I said, knowing I was throwing myself out on a limb. “As long as everything continues to go as well as it has been and you open the club on New Year’s Eve, I’d like to have our wedding celebration there that night.”
Lindsay went still by my side.
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Fuck yeah, it would be a great way to bring in the New Year,” I said.
Phoebe clasped her hands together. “That couldn’t be more perfect.”
“Next Friday night, dinner and a preliminary discussion,” I suggested.
She glanced toward Jeremy.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said.
“Oh wait. I can’t Friday. Wednesday?” I asked, remembering I had another fundraiser to attend. One I had yet to tell Lindsay about.
Jeremy nodded and so did Phoebe.
“Does that mean we should wait to make a public appearance together until the New Year?” Lindsay asked, looking hopeful.
I shook my head. “No, we have a season of events to attend. It’s perfect. That way you’ll get to meet everyone before the celebration.” It was a great lead in.
Lindsay didn’t look happy.
I squeezed her hand and then looked at Jeremy and Phoebe. “Are the two of you attending the White and Black Ball tomorrow night? It’s stressing Lindsay out for some reason.”
The annual makeshift casino fund-raiser was Avery Lake’s crowning achievement, and she basked in the attention she received for her philanthropic ways. Much to her credit, she did raise millions every year for the families of the victims of 9/11. She had a very personal connection—she had lost her father in the collapse of the World Trade Center towers. Her stretch continued to be far-reaching, providing college funds to those who needed it, senior care to those who didn’t have the proper insurance any longer, and trusts had been set up for the children of firefighters and police officers who lost their lives that day. Her support was appreciated beyond measure and everyone joined forces to make the night an annual success.
It was the event of the year and I had no choice but to attend. I’d taken Lindsay shopping during lunch earlier in the week, and bought her a dress, under a lot of reluctance on her part.
Phoebe looked at Jeremy, who remained neutral. “Yes, we’ll be there,” Phoebe said.
Lindsay looked extremely relieved.
I wondered if knowing about Avery and I was part of her reluctance. I’d come clean and told her that long ago, I had been Avery’s target and she only gave up hope of landing me after many years and many unsuccessful attempts. I even told her how Emmy and her had joined forces for a bit in order to coerce me away from other women.
“Phoebe?” Jeremy said.
Jeremy had stood and was talking to her, but her mind seemed to have gone where mine had. “Hmmm?” she answered.
“What do you say we make some coffee and see what Max left for dessert?”
She stood then, too.
Thinking about Avery ha
d rattled me and I had to shake my thoughts away. Tomorrow night would be fine.
“Here, I can help,” Lindsay offered.
“No, no. You two go sit down over there.” She motioned to the large living area. “We’ll bring everything in there.”
“Great, there’s a game on; I can catch the score,” I said.
Phoebe shook her head at him. “Did you bet on it?”
I gave her a coy look. Of course I did, but I hadn’t told Lindsay about my penchant for gambling. All in due time, I thought.
I turned the TV on and focused my attention on Lindsay. She had a million questions. And I although I didn’t love talking about my past, I answered each one of them.
Then she cleared her throat and said, “So the wedding celebration, aren’t you worried that you’re putting the cart before the horse?”
I laced my fingers with hers and looked into her eyes. “Not at all. The only thing I’m worried about is that you might decide we have to wait until then before I can get inside you.”
She blushed, and I loved the color in her cheeks.
I raised a brow waiting for a response.
Before she said anything, she looked over her shoulder. When she saw we were still alone, she said, “You don’t have to worry about that. It will be much sooner.”
Of course, I already knew that.
But as Phoebe had reminded me, I just hoped I didn’t fuck everything up before then.
I had a history of doing that.
Chapter 9
Perks
Lindsay
Being a model had its perks.
You got to travel between New York, Milan, London, Paris, and sometimes to remote island locations.
There’s flexibility in your schedule as you work unconventionally long hours when you are on location, but have even longer periods of time off in-between shoots.
A lot of the time you got to keep the clothes you modeled. And they were always fashion forward.
And then there were the invaluable connections you made while meeting new people all the time.
But it wasn’t all glitz and glam all the time. In truth, there was a lot of hard work that went into becoming a successful model, and behind the scenes, it wasn’t always as glamorous as it might seem. Sometimes you got yelled at. Sometimes you got turned away because you were too tall, or too short, or had the wrong hair color.