Blue Persuasion (10 page)

“Hang tough. Don’t text him,” Sam said.

“I won’t,” I agreed. “Love you guys.”

We all disconnected and then my phone vibrated. My heart raced and lodged in my throat. I woke up my phone.

Catherine:
You going to be okay?

Me:
I thought you were Tate. Yes, I’ll be fine.

Catherine:
If you have to obsess, at least choose to obsess over the good parts. The big parts.

Me:
Very funny.

Catherine:
Later.

Me:
Later.

After brushing my teeth, I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling.
Anaconda, now that’s funny.
I tried to focus on all the positives: perfect, best ass, stunning, breaking his three-year sex fast with me. But, I couldn’t help wonder what I did to practically shove him out my apartment door.

My phone vibrated again and my heart jumped out of my mouth and pulsed on the mattress next to me. At least it felt like that.

Bond:
You fucked him????

And here I thought I wanted a jealous Bond. Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

Me:
News travels at lightning speed.

Bond:
Jesus, Blue.

Me:
It was a one-time thing. Why are you upset?

Bond:
Something’s not right about him. I don’t want you to get hurt.

Me:
I get hurt all the time. It’s become my life.

Bond:
I don’t mean to hurt you.

Me:
He made an interesting point.

Bond:
What?

Me:
He wanted to know why you and Red sleeping with Jacqs was out in the open and yet, our fucking is a secret.

Bond:
You told him?

Me:
No. You did.

Bond:
Bullshit.

Me:
Your behavior did. He said you grilled him like a protective lover and not a friend.

Bond:
You know why we keep it a secret. To avoid the drama.

Me:
Why does Jacqs get the respect of the openness, but not me?

Bond:
I thought you wanted it that way, too.

Me:
I don’t know what I want anymore.

Bond:
Because of Tate?

Me:
No Bond. Because of me. I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Bond:
Okay. You know I love you, Blue.

Me:
Yeah. I love you, too.

I wished Tate had kept his opinions to himself. Now all I could see was how fucked up my life was. Instead of appreciating my time with Bond and looking forward to being in his arms again, I was left to question what I was doing to myself.
Nothing like fucking, taking off, and leaving a maelstrom of havoc in your wake.

What pissed me off the most was how my body responded to Tate. I loved my sex with Bond but with Tate, just his hands on my body or his breath on my neck drove me crazy. He didn’t need to whip my nipples to get me soaking wet, his penetrating stare took care of that.

He would get a piece of my mind the next time I saw him. It seemed inevitable. Even with all the insecurity plaguing me, the connection we forged, even in the short time we spent together, wasn’t something he could just walk away from. He would be back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lost in My Mind

by The Head and the Heart

B
y Saturday evening, I had sufficiently mind-fucked myself over my night with Tate. I had convinced myself I would hear from him after a day or so. As the seconds, minutes, hours passed me by, sadness and anger filled my heart. I barely made it through the days of work with my mind constantly churning over the details. In bed at night, the memory of his touch haunted me to distraction. I had to masturbate just to get some peace and sleep.

While at work, I found a few hours of respite as Tap 42 cranked up. Too busy to think about Tate, I actually enjoyed myself. I even put my flirt on a bit, and my tips reflected it. At the end of the night, I could feel a bit of angst creeping back in, so I helped Stuart close up.

“Want to get a drink?” he asked as we were putting the mugs away in the cooler.

“Oh?” I said, looking up.

He was a decent looking man: curly blond hair, green eyes, medium height with lots of energy. “You know, an alcoholic beverage at another establishment?” he asked, sweeping his hand in front of all the liquor bottles like a model on a game show.

“I’ve found that work and play don’t mix well together.”

“It’s just a drink,” he insisted with a cheeky smile.

“Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”

“It’s that big guy with the long hair, right?”

“Huh?” I handed over the last of the mugs.

“When I saw him, I figured I missed my chance.”

I threw the towel I held into the laundry bin. “He’s nobody. Listen, is it okay if I take off?”

“Yeah, see you next week.”

“Thanks.”

Rain poured down around me as I struggled with the driver’s side door. “Crap. What the fu…” I became exasperated and climbed in through the passenger door.

When I arrived at my apartment, I rummaged in my bag for the key and slid it home. A large manila envelope fell in when I pushed the door open. I picked it up, examined it, and dropped it on the kitchen table. My cold, wet clothes needed to come off and then straight to the shower with me. A fret began to roil in my stomach. I assumed, with some trepidation, that the envelope had come from Tate and it held my chapter. I took the fastest shower of my life, wrapped myself in a towel, and ran back to the kitchen table. I raised the metal clasps and shook out the contents. The first chapter of
Soul Adjacent
, creased in the middle, fell out along with several Post-Its covering the title page, a business card for auto repair, and a folded note.

Before I had a chance to read anything, my phone vibrated.

Bond:
Are you coming tonight?

Me:
No, I don’t think so.

Bond:
Come on, Blue. We don’t have to have sex. We can talk.

Me:
About?

Bond:
What we’re going to do. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted or I’m ashamed of you. That’s totally wrong.

Me:
I just got home from work. Let me eat something and then I’ll let you know.

Bond:
Okay.

I decided to make a turkey sandwich as a way of procrastinating before reading the envelope contents. Sitting back down with the plate, I opened his note, taking in his left-handed slant.

Blue,

I’m sorry for my departure. It became too much, and I just had to get out of there. There’s no excuse for leaving you like that. I’ve never done anything so flawed.

I’d like to see you again, but I feel like I need to lay it all out there. Not the past, I’m not willing to share that, but what I’m capable of and not. I will say that nothing and no one has ever felt like it does with you. Nothing even remotely close. And we’ve barely scratched the surface of our mutual sexuality. That’s what I can offer, but I’d prefer to discuss it in person.

“I’m sure you would,” I said aloud and continued reading.

Either way, I hope we can stay in touch.

I read your chapter and enjoyed the start of the story. I think it reads a bit clunky in present tense and in my notes, I make suggestions about changing over to first-person past tense. You should definitely keep at it.

Tate

Underneath, in pencil it read:

I waited here for two hours hoping to see you. The rain chased me away.

I pulled the chapter in front of me and laughed. The Post-Its had nothing to do with the story. Six yellow ones covered the page. They read:
Avoid half-breed American Indians with bad attitudes
.
Blue is everyone’s favorite color
.
My clit is perfect
.
I’m a sex goddess
.
I am a breath of fresh air
.
I am a talented writer who should share her work
. I could not stop smiling.

I went into the bathroom and placed five yellow squares around the edge of the mirror, covering others to make room. The one with
Avoid half-breed American Indians with bad attitudes
I posted smack in the center of the mirror and laughed.

Back in the kitchen, I finished my sandwich and looked over the chapter. On the last page it read: Are you Katness? There were a lot of red lines throughout, but I could easily see how his suggestions would make the story better.

I felt excited.

Now a normal person would be happy enough with that, but I was far from normal. Was I happy because I heard from Tate? Or because Bond sounded like he was ready to come out to the group? I wasn’t sure I really wanted that. Was my mood uplifted because Tate liked my story? Or maybe because we would see each other again? Blah, blah, blah, and around it went.

And then, I didn’t feel so excited anymore. Did I want what either of them offered? Why did men only want halfway with me? Could I stand another relationship that had no chance of progressing? Should I go see Bond? Text Tate? Decide to be a lesbian? I sometimes wished I could just turn a switch like that.

I tapped the screen on my phone and sent a text.

Me:
I found your envelope.

Tate:
Sorry I missed you.

Me:
Loved the Post-It notes.

Tate:
Thought you might. What are you up to tonight?

Me:
Undecided.

Tate:
Maybe I can help you decide.

Me:
Okay, should I go see Bond? He wants to talk about letting the group know about us.

Tate:
That’s an easy one, not tonight.

Me:
Why?

Tate:
Because you’re coming to see me?

Me:
You ended that with a question mark, but it didn’t seem like a question.

Tate:
Blue, I’d like to see you.

Me:
I don’t know. Seems to me you’re offering me the very same thing you said I shouldn’t settle for.

Tate:
I am.

Me:
Great.

Tate:
It’s all I have, but you’re right, you deserve more. However, I can’t stop thinking about you and our time together on Wednesday night or I’d leave you alone.

Me:
Neither can I. Your hands.

Tate:
My hands?

Me:
Yes, and your departure.

Tate:
I’ll come to you.

Me:
Definitely not. Well maybe. My first thought was that you wouldn’t be able to take off if I came to you, but you could still kick me out of your place. How about neutral territory?

Tate:
Where?

Me:
The Beach. Hollywood.

I loved the beach at night. I rarely had the opportunity to go because it wasn’t safe for a woman in South Florida to go there alone.

Tate:
Okay, I’ll meet you by the bandshell in 20.

Me:
Perfect.

Once dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, I texted Bond.

Me:
What time are you getting off?

Bond:
3 a.m. or so.

I checked the time on the stove: 12:45 a.m.

Me:
I’ll text you when I’m coming over. It’ll be awhile.

Bond:
Good! Anytime.

I filled a glass with water and drained it. Phone and keys in hand and driver’s license in my pocket, I hopped down the steps to my car. I fought with the car door, but this time I won. The door creaked and popped as it shut. Once settled, I turned up the music and sang
Rude
along with MAGIC! I loved the reggae beat.

During the day, it was impossible to park on Johnson Street in front of the bandshell. At night, I had my choice of spots and pulled in next to Tate’s Harley. I didn’t even have to feed the meter because it was after hours.

“Hi.” No smile on the jean-clad man.

“Hi, cheer up, it’s a beautiful night, and the rain has already passed through.”

“I’m happy to see you.”

“That’s usually followed by a smile.” I pushed up the corners of his mouth.

He cracked a small smile.

“Let’s walk down past the shops where it’s dark.”

“Good idea,” he said, smiling.

I playfully punched his shoulder. “It’s so we can see the stars.”

“Uh huh.”

I shot him a dirty look.

He pulled out a blanket from the side pack on the bike.

“Good idea.” I kicked off my flip-flops and walked onto the sand, making a beeline to the shore. The ocean wind blew my auburn hair back off my shoulders. I loved the feel of the warmth hitting my face. The beach alone made me ecstatically happy. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“My pleasure.”

“So?”

“So?”

“You wanted to do this in person and now’s your chance.”

He threw the blanket over his shoulder and took my hand, looking directly at me in the dim light. “I’m sorry for running off Wednesday night and thank you for meeting me here tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I want you. I can hardly think of anything else.”

His words sent a frisson through me and my pussy tingled. Ignoring my body’s outlandish response, I asked, “But?”

“I will never marry again or love again or share my life with another person.”

“Wait a sec. So what are you suggesting?”

“Sex and friendship.”

“I’m not sure you and I have the same definition of friendship. Maybe you mean acquaintances?” I yanked my hand free.

“No, I mean friendship.”

I took a couple steps forward along the water’s edge and looked back at him. “How can we be friends if you have no intention of sharing yourself with me? In my world, you share something, I share something, and that’s how we get to know each other.”

“My past isn’t all of me.”

“By definition, it is. We have this moment and everything else is in the past.”

“I want to know about you, just no questions about me.”

“Even your childhood?”

“I may share now and again, but no questions.”

I continued strolling, contemplating his words. Did I want to be naked with him again?
Hell, yes.
Did I want to sign up for another Bond scenario?
Hell, no.
Could I keep myself, my heart separate?
Doubtful.

We had walked far enough that we were behind the houses on Hollywood Beach. Tate unfolded the blanket and spread it over the sand.

I sat down, crossed my legs, and leaned back on my palms.

He moved in behind me and drew my back against his chest.

I felt his warm breath against my neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have several ideas.”

“Tell me how this would work. Do we date?” I snuggled in tightly against him, his unique smell enveloping me. I had to force myself to focus on the conversation.

“You mean other people?” he asked.

“No, but let’s address that later. I meant you and me. Go to dinner, the movies? Hang with mutual friends, etcetera. Or do we just meet up when we want to fuck?”

“How do you want it?”

“That, sir, is a trick question.” I swiveled around until I faced him, my legs folded in front of me. Even in the dark, his penetrating stare affected me.