The 90 Day Rule

by Diane Nelson

  Cicadas and insects buzzed in the stillness, accompanied by a soft hissing from the water jets periodically kicking on and off.

  I didn’t hear him approach, so captivated by the sounds of the night and the beating of my heart that there was no way to divert my attention to anything other than this microcosm of time and space.

  Jack carefully shoved the lid to the edge of the hot tub and propped it against the railing. Watching him move, my eyes watered with hunger as they stared at muscles rippling when he lifted and settled the lid, his back strong, thighs thick as tree trunks yet still lean, not fleshy. An anomaly.

  There was nothing soft about his huge frame despite him being in his forties. He was fleshed out, solid, not thin skin stretched over ropey abs like a hard body mannequin. Dark hair peppered his chest, trailing past his belly to nest thickly at his groin. He gave no indication he might be self-conscious of his erection, hard muscled and proudly declaring his intentions.

  He whispered, his mouth close to my ear, “I’ll ask again. What do you want to do first?”

  Blushing, I had all manner of thoughts, some naughty, some downright sinful, all of them well outside of my realm of experience. So far out I was in clueless, brainless, dumber than shit territory.

  I don’t know…

  “Well, I have some ideas…” With that he lifted me up and then lowered me into the heated water. Climbing in after me, he settled onto the opposite bench, his feet positioned on either side of my hips, bracing himself. With a quick press of a button he set the jets on high.

  Then he stared into my eyes, waiting.

  The fizz and the pulsating beats of superheated foam and water wreaked havoc with my senses. Instead of butterflies my belly sported that hollow, empty feeling you sometimes get when inevitable crosses paths with not a good idea.

  I mouthed eighty-two, subtracted half a bondage ring and still came up with a burdensome forty-one days.

  Except … now I faced no days at all. If I accepted Robert’s conditions I was back in the no fly zone, forever relegated to chattel status, along with my overwrought commitment to fulfilling my vows, keeping to my end of the contract. Before God and witnesses.

  And even if I decided to fight, however that might play out, the struggle would most likely result in a long drawn-out battle with ruinous consequences for Loretta, never mind the backwash for me. Did the bondage, the contract, still count at that point?

  The list of reasons why not far outweighed everything. It always had. That’s why I was so tangled in my head. I wanted something, someone, to say you can do this, Jes, you can take control and have what you want for once.

  That wasn’t right either. Why should anyone bear that burden? It was my decision, mine alone. I needed to own my feelings, my desires, my ambitions.

  “Jes.” His voice was softly modulated, very deep, the lust and longing echoing as down a canyon. “Tell me what you want.”

  I’d rather have swallowed my tongue than say the words, my face flushing scarlet at the images playing out in my head. Keeping my eyes lowered, I hunched my shoulders, preparing to bolt.

  Jack stood and pulled me up. Drawing me close, his hands pressed my hips into the long hardness of his manhood.

  I wanted to say the word. Out loud. Fearlessly.

  Cock.

  I want your cock inside me.

  “Oh, you’ll have that. Never fear, my love.” Velvet laughter, teasing, a knowing deviltry in his voice colored the next words. “But I think that’s not all you want.”

  Stuttering, I managed to choke out, “N-n-no, no it’s not.”

  “Good, because I plan to break a lot of rules tonight.”

  I just need to break the one…

  “Sweetheart, for you, one will never be enough…”

  Chapter Nine: Company Interruptus

  “Oh Jesus, sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

  An ocean of passion engulfed me, his eyes unfocused, glazed. I couldn’t bear to look away. Couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling away.

  “Don’t, don’t sto—” Me. Moaning. Begging.

  Melting.

  Puddling.

  Boneless.

  Muscles, belly tightening. Such ache. Spine twisting, swiveling, hips bucking under the assault of his sinful moist mouth. Rough hands kneading my thighs. So harsh, demanding. Wanting.

  Me. He wants me.

  Rye. Slap.

  Pastrami. Slap.

  “I’ll have what she’s having…”

  Yes yes yes yes!

  Oh my dear sweet…

  “Ssh, it’s all right. I’m here.”

  Wrapping me in his arms, he crooned soft murmurs through a gelatinous fog, the sensations dissipating, bleeding out until my limbs felt like leaden feathers.

  If I died right then, in that pool of sweat soaked sheets, buried under the hard planes of the devil himself, it would be with a smile and a fuck you Robert.

  Jack, my new lover, Ryan chuckled low in his throat. “Do you always re-enact that scene when you come?”

  Oh, I so did not say that out loud. Did I?

  He was nibbling at my mouth again, my taste, his taste intermingling. Clever tongue probing, thumb in a lazy holding pattern over a nipple, his knee nudged my thighs wider and brushed against the swollen distended flesh. A reminder and a promise.

  He wasn’t done with me, not by a long shot.

  I didn’t mean to say it. Should have been too embarrassed to admit it. But I wanted him to understand.

  I don’t know why it mattered, but it did.

  Throat constricting, I gulped out, “That was my first time…” he hummed an ‘umm’ but stopped and stared when I continued, “…for everything.”

  A heartbeat, two, then he said, so softly I barely heard him, “Good.”

  Good.

  He said ‘good’.

  Choirs sang, joy filled me with hope.

  Bells chimed, muffled, insistent. Ringing … ringing…

  I tensed.

  Jack said, “Ignore it.”

  A feeling of dread pierced my chest, a premonition so strong there was no way I could ignore it, no matter how much I wanted to.

  “Please, Jack.”

  I rolled toward the edge of the bed but he got there ahead of me, reached down and pulled my duffle bag onto the rumpled covers. The cell was in a small side pocket, on its last ring.

  All I needed to do was wait, let it go to voice mail. I flipped it open and stared at the caller ID.

  “Loretta?”

  Jack braced to leave, to give me space and privacy. Respect.

  I didn’t want any of that. I wanted him, I needed to be in the comfort of his strong arms. I held the phone out, the tinny voice echoing between our bodies. My own tears were inconsequential. What mattered were the strangled sobs in the background, a sound so soft and muted it drowned out all others.

  Jack bent his head, listening, never taking his eyes off me.

  When I clicked it shut, I lay back on the pillow, willing time backwards.

  Brushing my hair off my sweaty brow he said, “I’ll take you back.” He stepped away and I saw, for the first time, more than concern, more than simple compassion. His face was hard-edged, dangerous. Possessive.

  Bolting for the bathroom I made quick work of dressing and setting myself to order. Fortunately the tight braids gave me a false sense of tidiness, an illusion of kemptness, if there was such a word.

  It was good we hadn’t gotten any further. This had to be the end of it. I couldn’t lead him on any longer. It wasn’t fair to him.

  You don’t deserve him. You don’t … you don’t … you…

  I exited in a rush, eyes on the floor, mortified that I’d involved this generous man in something so sordid, and slammed into a solid wall of flesh.

  Stuttering apologies, I angled around him but he took my arms in a vice grip and nailed me in place.

  “Jes.”

  I ignored him, avoiding his eyes.

  “Je
s. Damn it to hell.” He shook me like a rag doll. “Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

  So I did, through a watery veil.

  “Two things I want to make clear.”

  Robert had said almost the same thing, a mere ten minutes ago. Men liked it when it was clear and uncomplicated. But they also liked rules, always more rules. All I knew for certain was … I could live with rules but clarity was over-rated.

  Jack tilted my chin up. When he let go of my arm, it tingled from where he’d gripped it tight enough to leave a bruise.

  “First off, this isn’t over. You and me. We have unfinished business here. So get that shit out of your head right now.” Something low and guttural escaped my mouth. Assent, dissent, neither of us would ever know for sure. “And the second thing is … I’m coming in there with you.”

  Gasping, “Jack, no, you can’t,” I tried to pull free.

  “It’s not up for discussion.”

  He finally let me go, grabbed the duffle and stalked to the door with me dragging behind. I took a moment to look at the small room, and at the sliding glass door leading to the deck and the outdoor space created with love and pride.

  It felt like home.

  And I would never see it again.

  Jack muscled me into the truck and strapped me in. Wordlessly he climbed into the driver side and cranked the engine over. We sat there, on the narrow gravel driveway in front of a modest ranch house in the middle of the woods, diesel fumes perfuming the late night, wearing despair and aggression like second skins.

  “How many days, Jes?”

  “What?”

  “I said … how many days?”

  With a small voice, I replied, “Eighty now?”

  “That’s right. Eighty. And tomorrow will be seventy-nine and the next day?”

  “Seventy-eight,” I whispered. “But…”

  “No buts, Jessamine Cavanagh. Now, count them off, one day at a time.”

  So I did. While he hummed backup.

  ****

  My legs felt like jelly climbing the stairs to Etty and Chazz’s apartment. Their refuge, not mine, never mine.

  At the metal door leading into the third floor hall, Jack paused and blocked my way. The rush of emotions on his face confused me. Frightened me. Until he spoke.

  “None of this is going to sound right. And you may not be ready to hear it…” He brushed at his scalp, kneading it with his palm, the first time I’d seen him truly nervous. Dropping his voice an octave, he growled, “I will give you all the time you need. But know this. I won’t wait forever. That’s not how I’m wired.”

  Miserably, I nodded. Of course he wouldn’t wait forever. I had no intention of making him to do that.

  He needs to be free. Cut him loose, now. Don’t give him hope when you have none. Idiot. Selfish bitch. Just do it.

  “You don’t get it, Jes,” he hissed. “When I say I’m not waiting forever, that means I’m coming for you, wherever you are, whatever your situation. So you get yourself ready, do you understand?”

  I managed a sigh that came out as a yes. A blossom of hope swelled briefly in my chest.

  “I liked being your first, baby. No, not liked … loved it. I plan on being your first for everything from now on.”

  He held the door for me. As I squeezed past he muttered, “And I plan on being the last one you’ll ever have.”

  Chazz answered the door, his expression unreadable.

  “Coach, thanks for bringing, um, Mrs. McMahon.” He moved just enough out of the way to let me scoot under his arm, the rest of the mountain stood blocking Jack’s entrance. This was so not the pissing contest anyone needed right now.

  Even though my attention was focused on the tableau in front of me I could hear low rumblings behind me as Chazz and Jack established territorial rights.

  Jack won and came up behind me, inches away but not touching.

  Robert McMahon, the Right Honorable Judge McMahon held our daughter in a tentative embrace. She was still sobbing.

  Robert stared through me, clearly finding the situation distasteful at best. For some reason that gave me a modicum of courage.

  I broke the ice first.

  “How is she?”

  “Still in intensive care. I spoke with the night nurse right after I talked with you,” and, God, how that ‘you’ came out as a sneer, “so all I know is she’s stable at this point.”

  I wanted to scream, “What the fuck did you do to her? She’s your mother for crying out loud!” but held back. Loretta was in enough distress worrying about Tonia dying.

  The small space between the man at my back and the bastard in front of me was a zone of détente. For now. I would respect that, no matter the cost to me.

  Chazz moved around us and made the introductions. Robert glared at Jack, then dismissed him as being of no consequence with a slight nod of the head. Neither man offered to shake hands.

  Robert stood and directed Loretta to pack a valise. He eyed the duffel bag Jack still carried and asked, “Do you have a change of clothes in there?” Oily, smooth and accusatory.

  I tensed but held onto my temper. Without a word I followed our daughter into the bedroom, praying that Chazz could intimidate both men into behaving like civilized beings. Robert could slice you open with a few well-chosen phrases. Jack would take a less subtle approach.

  The last thing I needed was blood on my hands. I already had a shit load of guilt over Tonia’s heart attack. That she was in her seventies did little to ameliorate the conviction that had I not acted so precipitously just mere days before, that none of this would ever have happened.

  I could have not gone through the door into our bedroom, I could have backed away graciously and agreed to whatever largesse the bastard’s underactive sense of remorse might have conjured. And then I’d have spent the rest of my life in a cell of my husband’s design. Concessions in my favor would never be part of that plea bargain arrangement. He was too savvy, too clever, too experienced for that.

  But in the end, no one other than me would have suffered. Not my daughter, not Chazz. Tonia would be ensconced in all her regal bearing on boards of directors, allocating resources with the flick of her gold-plated pen.

  I’d never have met Coach Bryant or any of the young men I was helping to train, not my classmates or the teachers. Jack Ryan would have remained an image on the screen during basketball games, viewed tangentially if at all.

  The problem was …freedom, once tasted, was difficult to relinquish.

  Love … even the promise of it was nearly impossible to let go.

  From the false premise of no choices, my life faced several, all bad but some less onerous than others. I knew what I had to do.

  Etty hugged me and pulled me into the living room, announcing to her father we were ready to go. She was about to go to Chazz but the young man flicked his head and scowled, warning her off.

  My heart swelled with pride. He had a good head on his shoulders. That was one choice I would fight to the death over. He and Loretta would be together and anyone who said otherwise better be prepared to walk through the bowels of hell.

  Jack came up behind me before I could exit into the hallway.

  In low tones he said, “Remember. I’m coming for you. One way or the other.” Gripping my left hand, he pressed the wedding ring into the knuckle. “And the next time we’re together, this will be gone.”

  On autopilot I followed my husband and my daughter down the stairs. Robert’s driver pulled in front of the building and we slid onto the leather seats, Loretta and I in the back, Robert in front.

  “Robert?”

  “What?” He turned and glared at me.

  “I forgot to ask. Where is Tonia staying?”

  “Pittsburgh General.”

  Three hours of silence, give or take. Loretta dozed off while I kept vigil and prayed. For what, I didn’t know.

  Did he have a rule? A rule about how long to wait?

  When should I begin the countdown
, when should I stop? At what point would hope desert me and despair fill the balance of my inner sanctum?

  Muttering ‘eighty’ I let the tune play out, sub-vocal, like the clack of rosary beads in endless supplication for forgiveness, in an infinite spiral of anticipation and dread.

  Chapter 10: Face-Off

  Hospitals, ICUs in particular, weren’t my favorite things. Loretta had spent far too much time in one when she was barely four, a vacation ski trip gone horribly wrong. After days and endless nights, even a good outcome never entirely removed the stink of fear and uncertainty.

  Both of us hesitated outside the unit, both squirrelly, probably for different reasons. My daughter loved her grandmother, admired her, respected her. My feelings were more … complicated. Yet, no matter my history with the woman hooked up to tubes and machines, she was still a human being verging on…

  Mercy, I couldn’t even think the word.

  Me, screeching at my own mother. Loretta stamping her tiny foot. Countless confrontations.

  I wish you were dead. I wish you were dead.

  Loretta girded her loins first and went through the door leaving me to ponder the steel in her spine.

  When had she become the adult in this family? When had she passed the I want to die phase of teenage self-loathing and despair and blossomed into a lovely woman of worth and substance?

  When had she morphed into someone I would want to emulate?

  “Are you going in?” Robert’s voice dripped with disdain. “They only allow two at a time.”

  “Uh, go ahead in.” I moved out of his way and tucked myself into a corner. I’d do the last rites with Tonia alone. There were things to say, even if the words stayed silent in my head.

  As if.

  Although, without Jack-the-Mindreader, maybe I had a small chance in Hades of actually keeping vagrant thoughts to myself.

  And I so did not need to think of him now, not today, not tomorrow, not even next week.

  Seventy-nine days and counting.

  The nurse came over and patted my arm. “You can go in now.” So very kind.