The parking lot in front of the Blue Oyster was nearly full, but Jack pulled into one of the few remaining spots. He was fifteen minutes late. Sheepishly, he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the restaurant. The air conditioning blasted him—such was life in South Florida, hot and cold, into air conditioning, into the heat, then back again. He looked around to see where his date was. The room was dark and appealing after being in the hot sun. He scanned the tables—nothing. He began to think he’d been stood up, but then he spotted her sitting at the bar, a bottle of Sam Adams in her hand. He sauntered over, trying his best to look casual.
“This seat taken?”
Sarah seemed genuinely startled, sitting lost in thought. She turned to look at him, a wisp of hair falling across her pretty face. She pulled it over her ear.
Damn, she looks good, he thought. She was wearing a tight black skirt, and the way her right leg crossed over her left emphasized the fullness of her hips, the same way her tight zip-up jacket showed off her small but enticing breasts. His eyes were drawn to her hot pink running shoes. His head popped back up—he didn’t want to show too much interest. Then it hit him: she smelled really good. It wasn’t perfume, it was her. She had her own smell. Fuck, who has their own smell?
“I’m glad you made it, traffic can be a bitch around here sometimes.” She smiled, and her face seemed to glow. “Let’s get you a drink.” She waved the bartender over.
“Stella . . . please . . . draft pint,” Jack said.
The bartender nodded and moved to the fridge to get a frosted glass.
“Should we get a table?” He was still standing, unsure of Sarah’s plans.
“Let’s stay here. I like to sit at a bar, the service is quicker. We can be closer and hear each other better.”
Closer? I need to get farther away, the smell of you is killing me. Jack sat down, took a deep gulp of his beer, then wiped the froth from his top lip and nodded.
“Let’s order some oysters to start. I prefer Malpeque, not the big slimy ones from Florida. They’re smaller and slide down easy.” Sarah opened one of the menus that the bartender placed in front of them, and handed the other one to him.
“Can I be forward and ask you about yourself, Jackson Walker, or do you prefer Jack? I have heard the odd thing and from what I hear, you are highly rated.”
Highly rated? “Is that so? How does one become highly rated?” He crossed his arms.
She smiled impishly. “That’s just what I heard. Why would I want to date a man who was not highly rated? It makes perfect sense. Now, about yourself?” Jack felt awkward. He was being interrogated, and her scent was somewhat less potent. What happened to small talk? The girl was starting to irritate him, but he figured he’d please her.
“Where to begin? Well, I’m a Southwest Florida boy, born and bred, grew up in the Fort Myers area. I was pretty good at sports. You heard I played pro ball?”
“I know that. It doesn’t mean much to me, but do go on.”
Jeez. “Oh . . . well, I played well in college, made it to a bowl game, but it didn’t really translate into success with the Bengals. I got cut a year ago, and here I am working for the senator. I’ll tell you though, I do miss the limelight, the roar of the crowd, and the heat of battle.”
“You’re educated. That’s a good thing, the limelight is superficial. I work for the Republican Party, Jack. You work for a Republican senator. I read your file—everyone has a file. They want to know if you’re a lying son of a bitch, or if you have a criminal record. From what I hear, the government knows everything about us. Frankly, I wanted to know as well.”
Cannot wait to go fishing.
She put her hand on his knee, sensing his unease. Like a reflex, he wanted to pull back, but somehow couldn’t. The hair on top of his head stood on end, and tingles ran down the back of his neck.
“Tell me something else about yourself, something interesting. What you’ve told me thus far was like something you read off a cue card. That kind of story might work on some girl you might meet at the Lani Kai, but it won’t cut it with me. It’s boring.”
Her hand remained on his knee. He felt paralyzed from the waist down, not wanting to break the contact. Boring? He took a minute to gather his thoughts, finishing his beer, and ordered another one.
“Like, what do you want to know? Seems as if you know everything anyway, just like the NSA.” He laughed.
Her voice had an edge, like she was losing patience. “Look, if I’m going to go out with you again, I want to know something unique, something strange about you. I don’t like normal men, and it’s starting to sound like you are pretty normal. Tell me something about you, something you’ve never told anyone.” She wiggled in her seat waiting for his reply.
How badly did he want this girl? He paused for a minute weighing his options. As if knowing what he was thinking, Sarah squeezed his leg encouragingly. Damn.
“Okay, I’m hooked on soap operas; never told anyone that.” He took a long sip of his beer. “Y and R. Used to watch them with my mom.” He went silent for a time. She smiled encouragingly, nodding her head. Jack continued, “I’m a bit of a loner, all in or all out. I have my friends, and they are good friends, but not many. The people I hook up with, we’re all close.” Jack paused and looked into Sarah’s face. He was caught by the way her nose turned up cutely at the end. “Never had a long-term girlfriend,” he lied. He paused a minute remembering his high school sweetheart; they had dated for three years. He didn’t know if he wanted to encourage a relationship with Sarah. “Does my bio say that I’m part Native? My grandfather is Seminole . . . so was my mom.”
“No it didn’t, and good to know, but still not interesting.”
“You have to show someone that you are unique, Sarah. I could probably think of a few more things about myself, but that might not be good enough. Hell, what’s exciting to me might be boring to you. Beyond what I’ve said, you’re just going to have to find out if I am a ‘normal guy.’ Take it or leave it. The interrogation is over.”
Sarah sat in silence and then smiled, looking him directly in the eyes. “Good answer.”
“What about you? I know you’re a Republican, and you sure as hell know how to wear a black skirt.”
She raised her eyebrows. They both sat in silence for a few minutes looking at the menu.
“Decided what you’re gonna have? I’m hungry. The crab cakes sound good, might have a wedge salad with blue on it.”
“Sounds good. Two crab cakes with wedges.” She repeated the order a little louder, catching the bartender’s ear. The server acknowledged with a nod of her head and punched the order into her terminal.
Sarah squished up her cute little nose. “My story. Well, it has some similarities. Florida State, but I didn’t play ball . . . well.” She smiled coyly. “I was born in Jacksonville.”
Jack could not resist. “You mentioned a prayer meeting. Go to church regularly?”
Sarah’s eyes turned down for a moment. She pondered her next statement. “It’s nothing really, just a group of like-minded people.”
“So you don’t go to church?” Jack asked.
“No . . . not a church as such. We don’t like to talk about things outside the circle. We are nothing like what you must be thinking. If you’re worried that I’m a Bible-thumper, don’t be.” She placed her hand on his thigh in a reconciliatory way.
Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
“You’re a Scientologist?”
“Not even close.” She threw her head back, laughing. “They’re a bunch of whackos. I promise we’ll talk about it one day if we’re still friends, but it’s not important now. All this talk about politics and religion isn’t the best way to start things off. It’s said that many a friendship has been ruined by both.”
The bartender delivered the oysters, which looked fresh and were served with diced shallots and horseradish. Sarah dug into the shellfish with gusto, picking up an oyster, raising the edge of the shell to her lips,
then tilting her head back to let the delicate meat slide into her mouth. She lightly chewed the oyster before swallowing, then licked her bottom lip.
“Delightful. I have four brothers, so I learned to eat quickly. Dig in, don’t be shy. Here, I’ll make one up for you.”
Sarah dropped a bit of shallot and a pinch of horseradish onto a nice plump oyster and brought it up to Jack’s mouth. He reached for it, but she knocked his hand away. She put it to his lips and tipped up the end, allowing the flesh of the mollusk to slide into his mouth. She smiled.
Jack swallowed the oyster and took another sip of his beer. “I don’t date religious girls.” He looked her in the eye.
“Why’s that?” she responded.
“Too much crap; been attracted to my fair share. You get yourself all worked up and then there is the false pretense that you might be willing to see the way of God, Jesus and whatever else is involved . . . parents. You get it?”
Sarah pushed his chin up so that their eyes met again. “You’re afraid I won’t fuck you?”
He nearly choked on his drink.
“I promise you that I will tell you about my prayer group in due time. It’s not important. Let me ease your mind. I’m not a prude and if I feel attracted to you, I might have sex with you. I just might.” She smiled. “Good, here comes our food. The oysters taste nice but they don’t fill a hungry void.”
The bartender placed their lunches in front of them, two large crab cakes with a spicy jalapeno-corn salsa and side salad.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Jack cleared the air. “It’s not about sex—at least not totally. I’ll be honest, I am a sexual person and I enjoy it, especially with good lookin’ women.”
“Like me?” Sarah smiled devilishly.
“Well, you’re good lookin’, and I have to say, I am fascinated by you.” He envisioned picking her up onto the bar, ripping down her undies right then and there. He shook his head to clear the image from his mind.
“Something wrong?”
“Nah, like I said, it’s not just the sex. It’s the whole religious experience that surrounds that kind of relationship. I’m not gonna take up with the Lord just to get into your pants. I flat out don’t believe in it. I’ve got better things to do on Sunday morning than go to church.”
“Fair enough. I’ll tell you, we don’t meet Sunday mornings, and I would have no expectation of your involvement. Let’s drop the religious thing. Okay?”
Jack felt somewhat relieved, but there was a small niggling feeling in the back of his mind that the prayer group would be an issue if he were to follow through and date Sarah.
“So, have I passed the test?”
Sarah smiled ever so slightly. “So far.”
****
Jack sat at his desk, his feet propped on an open drawer. He shared a large, open office with three others on the senator’s staff. The room was drab, with old, curled campaign posters on the walls, worn-out carpet, water-stained ceiling tiles, and the odor of stale cigarette smoke and coffee in the air.
He spent the first part of the morning canvasing for donations, which wasn’t his favorite task. He was sure that if the senator’s office kept track of his success ratio, he’d be out of a job. Jack didn’t take rejection very well, and needed to build himself up for every number he dialed. He was about to punch in the next on his list when he was startled by his cell phone. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Jack Walker.”
“Hey Jack, it’s Sarah, catch ya at a bad time?”
“Hi there. No, you couldn’t have called at a better time. Doing cold calls, boring as hell.”
“Say, I’m sorry I haven’t returned your messages. I’ve been busy. I’m in the area—got some time?
He hesitated for a moment, looking at the stack of paper sitting on his desk. “Yeah, I can slip out for a bit, as long as I finish this list today.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten, I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll be out front.”
Jack hadn’t thought about Sarah since their lunch date a week ago. He figured that he wouldn’t hear from her again after she didn’t return his calls. Two calls was his maximum; any more than that meant you needed to take the hint. He felt a nervous twinge. Was that a good thing? A week’s time had allowed him to cool down. He felt calmer, more in control of his hormones, and wasn’t sure that he wanted to take the relationship with Sarah any further.
He mentioned to his supervisor that he had a family issue and was taking an early lunch. Standing in the shade of the building, the heat nearly unbearable, he began to fidget, shifting from foot to foot and looking at his watch. A couple of minutes later, a gold Dodge Caravan came squealing into the parking lot, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him. The passenger door opened, Sarah stretched across the front seat. “Hey, the window’s broken, jump in.”
Jack slid into the passenger’s seat, pulling the door shut behind him. He was hit straight away by her smell. Damn . . . intoxicating.
“Glad you could come.” She clunked the van into gear and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. “I drive fast, hope you don’t mind.”
Jack calmly put on his seat belt. He patted the dashboard. “As long as this baby can handle it, I’m okay.” The minivan had seen better days, and there was a pronounced wobble as the vehicle accelerated.
Sarah turned towards Jack. “I won’t beat around the bush. I’m attracted to you. I gave myself the one-week test. If I still have any feelings after a week, that means it’s worth going for it. You only called twice, that’s excellent. I feel comfortable when I’m with you. I like the way you look. You seem to meet most of my requirements in a man.”
Requirements? He didn’t like the sounds of that.
“I’m forward, and life’s too short as it is. I think it’s important to find out if you’re in a bad thing sooner rather than later. On the other hand, if things are good, then you have more time to enjoy them. Make sense?”
“Um, yeah, I guess . . . of course.” He was becoming a bit impatient. “No time like the present.”
“Okay, there are a few more things you need to know about me before we go on. I’ll warn you, they have been deal-breakers in the past.”
Christ. “Hit me.”
Sarah concentrated on the traffic for a moment, turning right onto Bonita Beach Road. “I have a voracious appetite for sex. I can’t get enough of it. I like all aspects of it. I like it romantic, rough, kinky, from behind, you name it.”
Jack cleared his throat.
“My partner has to understand. Most men I meet think it sounds great; at first they can keep up, but then they start to waver. All I ask is that you’re able to adapt. If you’re not feeling up to it, be able to improvise.”
Holy crap. Jack sat back in his seat. Sarah was describing every young, red-blooded man’s dream, yet he was apprehensive and sat quietly for a time.
“You’re hesitating, Jack. That’s good. If you were to say exactly what I wanted to hear, I’d have my doubts.”
Jack didn’t know how to respond, but he felt her pulling him in deeper. If she were to glance at his groin she would know that he was hers. He looked at her quickly; she seemed a bit nervous for the first time. Had she been turned down before after her proclamation? She’d mentioned deal-breakers. He needed to maintain some sort of parity in the ensuing negotiation. He could not explain it any other way. This was a negotiation, and he had not experienced anything like it.
“You said there were a couple of things. Well, do tell,” Jack said
“The church that I mentioned the other day.”
Knew it.
“We worship Satan.”
“What!”
Like sticking a needle in a balloon, his erection shriveled.
“Holy fuck . . . You’re beatin’ me up pretty good here Sarah. I’ve heard of yin and yang, but this is ridiculous.” He wiggled uncomfortably.
She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her hands
opening and closing in quick succession.
“Okay, good response,” she said. “I assure you that it’s not as bad as it seems, and in time you’ll see that we aren’t bad people. We’re better than most religious zealots you see running around.”
“Yeah, but fucking Satan? You gonna tie me up and slit my throat like a sacrificial lamb once you bang me?”
“We call him Set.”
“That’s Egyptian, right?” He vaguely remembered the name from his grade school Egyptian history classes.
“Yep, you got it. See, we believe that there is more than one deity. We believe in the Christian God, Allah to some, whatever you want to call him. We also believe in Set, or Satan if you will. Set is the deity of free thought, individualism and creativity. We believe that Set is not evil.”
The confidence with which she spoke, and the way her freckled nose crunched up when she paused disarmed Jack . . . somewhat.
“We believe that Set, or Satan, took a bad rap when he defied the Christian God by questioning his judgment. Those who blindly read the Bible have construed this defiance as evil. Set’s doctrine is to question and not take blind faith as being good enough—that’s all. We don’t kill babies or chickens. We are a group of thinkers and individuals. Now, just like Christians and Muslims, there are nut jobs out there who do bad things in the name of Satan. We are against all of that. I can tell that you think I’m too bold.”
He canted his head to the side.
“You see, I didn’t use to be like this; our doctrines have taught me to be forthright, to ask for what I really want and to act upon it.”
Sarah turned off the road into Lovers Key State Park. After paying four dollars for admission, she followed a couple of twisty roads and pulled into a deserted parking lot and stopped the van.
Devil in the Grass Page 3