The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (13 page)

~o0o~

After about an hour, the entire Martin family is back at the cabana except for his father.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Still on the golf course, I guess. He usually disappears once we’re here. My mother finds her lady friends. My father plays golf. Would you like to play sometime?”

“Golf?”

“I can give you a few pointers.”

“Ben, the only golf I play is miniature golf. Unless your golf course has a windmill or giant clown mouth to putt a golf ball through, forget it.”

He laughs. “So, that’s a no?”

“That’s a big, fat, not-a-chance-in-hell no.”

“There’s always surf fishing in Montauk,” he teases. He knows that’ll never happen.

“Picture me in waders, holding a fishing pole. That sounds like me,” I say sarcastically.

“Someday I’ll find a sport you’re willing to participate in.”

“I already have one, Lover.” I wrap my fingers around his index finger and pump them up and down, imitating a hand job.

He swallows hard. “You drive me crazy. You better stop that before everyone knows just how crazy.” He glances down at his crotch. He’s right, no need for the family to experience Ben in all his aroused glory. I unwind my fingers, bringing my hand to my mouth, biting my thumbnail.

Now I’m horny, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

~o0o~

We’re soaking up the sunshine in our lounge chairs, lulled by the white noise of distant chatter from other Club members and splashing sounds from the pool. Ben’s mother and grandmother are conversing behind us at a table inside the cabana, away from the sun.

“Who wants to join us in the pool?” Stuart asks.

Oh God, not me.
I close my eyes tight and pretend I’m sleeping.

“I will,” Cam-eel exclaims. “Ben, join us.”

Gee, Thanks for the invite.

The last thing I want is Ben joining that woman-hating, Ben-worshipping Star-Spangled Psycho, but I have to trust him. I crack an eye open just enough so I can watch.

“Thanks, but I’m going to stay here with Julia,” he says.

She frowns. “She’s sleeping, Ben. Come on, for old times’ sake. It’ll be fun,” she whines. “Pretty please.”

Old times’ sake? Is she kidding me? I’m not stupid. Or blind. I know her version of “old times’ sake” is Ben banging her senseless. I’m bright red, and it has nothing to do with sunburn. I’m going to take this bitch down.

“Thanks. I’ll pass. Elizabeth and Stuart can keep you company,” he says matter-of-factly, as he goes back to reading his book.

Take a hint, honey. He doesn’t want you.

“Are you sure?”

Give it up, wench.

He nods, burying his nose in his book. She huffs and sashays her ass as she walks past him toward the pool. He looks up for a second, then goes back to his reading.

Okay, he
is
a man. It’s not like he can shut off the testosterone at will. He’s going to check out any girl who shamelessly parades her ass in front of him. I’m letting that one slide.

“Did I pass?” he asks.

One annoying thing about the fact that Ben is a writer is that he’s so damned observant. He knew I was listening.

“You checked out her ass,” I grumble.

“I saw cellulite.”

I laugh. “Okay, you’re off the hook for that offense. Just remember who you belong to.”

“Possessive today, aren’t we?” he teases.

“Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. Next time we’re alone, I’ll show you just how much you own me.”

“I look forward to it,” I say, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

~o0o~

“Julia, are you hungry?”

“Is this a trick question? Am I ever not hungry?”

“I’m going to the Snack Shack across the pool. Hot dog and fries sound good to you?”

“Perfect.”

I’m surprised they serve ordinary food. I’d think hot dogs would be too pedestrian for this haughty crowd. I figured they had a caviar and lobster bar.

“There’s a long line. Stay here and relax. I’ll be right back.”

I watch Ben walk around the pool toward the Snack Shack. He stops occasionally to shake hands with a few club members relaxing around the pool area. I notice a few girls turn their heads as he passes them. Some stop him and say hello. He smiles politely and stops for some small talk then continues.

I discreetly peek over at the lounge chair Cam-eel has herself stationed on. She has not stopped staring at him as he walks across the property. It’s creepy; like she’s a stalker in a trance.

I watch him talk to these random girls. Some are polite and friendly, like old friends saying hello. Others are blatantly flirting with him, twisting their hair in a loop around their fingers, touching his arm as they speak... looking for a connection. I begin to feel uncomfortable. I wonder how many of these women have slept with Ben. How many of them are staring at me, whispering about me, like I’m just another number?

I hate that they may know him, his hard muscular body, his soft caresses, the taste of his kisses, the exquisite feel of him inside... Things I wish only belonged to me. And I know I’m hypocritical. Ben isn’t my only, but I can’t help the way I feel. Ben wasn’t exactly a man-whore, but he was far from a monk.

Stuart walks over and sits down on the edge of Ben’s lounge chair, temporarily halting my errant thoughts. Good God, his swim shorts are so short, his balls are peeking out at me. Where’s the nut-netting that’s supposed to hold the
boys
in place and out of public view to protect innocent bystanders?
Lucky me.
I look away quickly, desperate to stare anywhere but at the pink hairy nuggets displayed in all its nut-sack glory inches in front of me.

“Are you okay? You look a little lost,” he asks quietly, carefully watching Elizabitch read a book three lounge chairs away.

“I’m fine. Thanks. We lucked out with the weather this weekend, didn’t we?” I ask, attempting to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about my thoughts on Ben and who he banged before me.

Don’t look at his balls. Don’t look at his balls.

“Yes, we did,” he answers, looking toward the Snack Shack then back to me. “You know, I’ve been a part of this family for a long time. Elizabeth and I have been together almost fifteen years,” he says quietly.

I fight the urge to look down but fail miserably. My eyes zero in right on his man junk, his balls resting against the lounge chair, like a pair of fuzzy gelatinous peaches. I catch myself.

Eyes, Julia, look at his eyes.

“That’s a long time,” I say.

“I came from a very strict upbringing. My family had certain
expectations
of me. At times, it was difficult. My parents have stringent beliefs. They weren’t accepting of anything that went against their principles.” He drifts off briefly, looking a little lost in his thought then changes tack.

I put Ball-Gate aside and give him my full attention as he continues.

“I love my parents. I’d do anything to make them happy. I tutored Elizabeth in biology when we were in school. We met at my house so I could help her on a project. It was for her midterm grade. Being her tutor, I felt a responsibility to help her. My parents thought she was my girlfriend.” He shrugs. “At the time, I never dated anyone but I discovered that having her around pleased them. We became an official couple soon after. It may not be fireworks, but it works for us. She’s a good person, once you get to know her. But sometimes she does things I may not approve of.”

“Oh, I know…” He cuts me off.

“I’m aware that Elizabeth has these grand plans for Ben. And she may make you feel uncomfortable. It’s not that she dislikes you… it’s just Camille has been her best friend for years. And Camille has a thing for… Well, I don’t have to spell it out; I think it’s obvious. But I want you to know something. These girls who threw themselves at him never meant anything to him. It was just fun. Nothing serious. Even Camille, although she’s in a permanent state of denial. It’s different with you.”

“Different, how?”

“Just different. He’s better with you. He never seemed…” He pauses, thoughtfully looking up to the sky, searching for the right word. “Content. He was always searching for something he was missing. That’s probably the reason he…” He stops his thought. He doesn’t have to say it. I get it. It’s why he had so many hook-ups. “Anyway, I’m glad he found you. I’ve known him since he was thirteen. Women have always thrown themselves at him, even at that young age. I love him like he was my own brother. You are good for him. I want you to know that.”

I look down at my lap, my eyes misting up. Stuart’s kind words came out of nowhere, and it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I look across the pool to the Snack Shack where Ben is waiting for our food order. I catch him staring at me with a look bewilderment in his eyes. It’s the kind of look that melts you from the inside out.

There are no grand gestures made or anything said. Just a simple look that takes my breath away. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I think to myself “What did I do right to deserve this beautiful man?”

I realize something. He is mine; only mine… his body, his caress, the taste of his kisses… they belong to me because he loves me. Others may have scratched the surface, but only I know him intimately. Truly intimately. There may have been others before that held his body, but I’m the only one who holds his heart. It’s the one thing he never gave to anyone else.

My petty insecurities over these random girls are a complete waste of time. His past is his past. It has nothing to do with me. Just like my past is my past. It has nothing to do with us. I’m done with stupid self-doubt about something I can’t change. I’m done feeling jealous because some girl looks at him. I’d look at him too. I’d look at him all day.

I’m his present. That’s all that matters.

I look back at Stuart and smile.

“What are the two of you talking about?” Elizabitch calls out from her lounge chair disrupting the one nice moment I’ve had since we’ve arrived.

“Just small talk, dear.” He winks slyly at me.

I have a new appreciation for Stuart. I understand why he married Elizabitch… to appease his family. They wouldn’t approve of a gay lifestyle, and he didn’t want to lose them. That’s so sad. But he does care for Elizabitch—in his own way. My heart breaks for him a little. He can’t be who he really is. But he seems to be at peace with his decision. I guess that’s all that matters.

“Thank you, Stuart. You’re a good friend,” I say sincerely.

“Friend?” he asks, testing the word. “Yes, friends. But let’s keep our little
friendship
under wraps.” His gaze shifts toward Elizabitch and Cam-eel. “Wouldn’t want the old ball and chain to get jealous,” he jokes.

I smile and nod. “Okay. We’re secret friends.”

Ben walks back with our food in three brown paper bags.

“Hey Stuart, would you like some?” he asks, offering some french fries.

“No, thanks. I’m watching my waistline,” he says with a hint of humor in his voice, patting his rounded stomach. “The ladies demand it of me.” They laugh. “Well, I’ve kept your seat warm long enough. I better get back to Elizabeth. Julia, it was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Stuart.”

My new secret friend, Stuart and his scrotum, stroll back to his lounge chair and Ben sits, holding out the opened bag. I grab a few fries and open a packet of ketchup, carefully making a line of ketchup across each fry. Ben rolls his eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting ketchup on my fries. What do you think I’m doing?”

“No, that’s what I thought. You do that one at a time?”

“MmmHmm.” I nod as I jam a fry in my mouth.

“Only you.” He shakes his head and laughs. “So, what were you and Stuart talking about?”

“Nothing in particular. Just chatting,” I say.

He nods as he bites into his hot dog.

“Before, when you were standing at the Snack Shack… you were looking at me like you had something on your mind. What were you thinking about?” I ask.

He places his hot dog down on a napkin lying on the lounge chair.

“I was thinking…” He pauses, brushing a few errant strands of hair behind my ear. “So, this is love.”

His words pull at my heartstrings. I close my eyes in a failed attempt to hone in my emotions. My eyes mist up again.

“That has to be the single most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He smiles shyly, running a knuckle down my cheek.

“I was also thinking… Maybe I should order some onion rings for you.” He hands a small paper bag to me.

I open the bag, see an order of onion rings, and laugh. “That’s the second most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He chuckles, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it.

~o0o~

I’m about to have a seizure. Ben’s father walks up from wherever the hell he’s been hiding out to meet the family at the cabana. I know golfers have a reputation for wearing some God-awful outfits, but this one is downright dizzying—a merry-go-round gone berserk kind of dizzying.

He’s wearing the most obnoxious orange, lime green and beige tartan pattern pants I’ve ever seen. His polo shirt is also bright orange with a matching golf hat. There’s a lot of matchy-match going on with this ensemble, which makes it even more ridiculous. Circus clowns would be embarrassed to be seen in this getup. There was actual effort put into bringing this cringe-worthy outfit together.

Three Words… Get a stylist.

After saying a brief hello to Beverly, his mother, and the rest of the family, he walks over to us, blocking my sun. Ugh, he can’t move over five inches? I guess sun-worshipping etiquette isn’t followed at “The Club.” Ben stands from his lounge chair and shakes his hand.

“Dad, you remember Julia?”

“Yes, of course. Good to see you again, Julia,” he says.

“Nice to see you too, Mr. Martin.”

“Julia,” he reprimands, frowning. “As I recall at Christmas, I told you to call me Dick.”

“Sorry. Good to see you, Dick,” I correct myself, thinking about how inappropriate that greeting just sounded.