Kay & James: Breakable
Kay hadn’t told anyone about James. There was something satisfying about having a secret-about having someone like James all to herself. She found herself thinking of him at work during particularly long meetings, her mind idly tracing the lines of his body, remembering how his throat smelled, creating scenarios that always ended with his hands all over her, with his chest, his hips, his thighs pushed right into hers, the friction of their skin, until…
“Well, Kay?” Mr. Gordon said. From his semi-blurry glare (no doubt because of his three martini lunch), this wasn’t the first time he had called her name, although he didn’t seem to mind because his eyes were on her chest, burning a hole right through her shirt.
Disgusting.
“I apologize, Mr. Gordon”, she began, calm and cool.
“Hank, Kay. All you ladies and fellas just call me Hank.”
“Hank”, Kay said, breathing out his name like she was interested, “I was thinking about the Birkeshire wedding conflict-what do you think about the venue that the Overato’s wanted instead?” she said, tacitly recrossing her legs, physically redirecting the situation nearly as neatly as her verbal 180. Kay had always been able to press a conversation in the direction she wanted it to go, and her faux pas went completely unnoticed.
The same could not be said for her tits.
“…and really, baby, it’ll be fun! Can you make it?” she said, doodling hearts and initials on paper, her voice barely above a whisper. “Daddy wants to get the project going by next month, and the contractors can’t start demolition until the movers get my stuff out-oh, I know!"
"Daddy said he’s had twelve inquiries, and he’s only turning my place into three apartments. Well, yeah, but there’s the top floor too-oh, no you’ve never been up there, I just store winter clothes and… , “ she laughed, her cheeks flushing, looking young and devious at the same time, the constant contradiction, “noo, we’ve never-you just thought we had done that in every room”, she laughed again, pushing her hand through her hair.
When she looked down at her paper, realizing what she had been drawing, she slapped her hand over the paper and glanced around, hoping she hadn’t been in earshot.
She cleared her throat; more segue way than function, “Come help house shop Saturday. I’ll make it worth it.”
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James stopped to pick up Chinese on his way over to Kay’s. He stood waiting in the aggressively lit restaurant, thinking how relationships were about knowing what combination to order. Aren’t people the sum of their preferences? Kay was egg drop soup and pork fried rice from the box with chop sticks and a good bottle of Chenin Blanc.
He loosened his tie while he waited and realized that he was happy. His office had been in discussions that were leading to an account slated to skyrocket the company. In preparation for that, James had finally been given his own office, which he and Kay had promptly christened one Friday when everyone had left early. His desk chair hadn’t been the same since, but he found the end worth the means.
The realization of his happiness didn’t hit him like an epiphany, more of a slow soak-osmosis of satisfaction. James was the sort of man who had never been content, not that he was displeased or sullen. He just wanted more, which fueled his drive for success. It wouldn’t be called a fault.
James placed his order and walked to the end of the counter to wait. He thought for the first time about how easily this thing with Kay had evolved, about how nice it was to wake up and find her in his bed, having turned into the crook of his arm during the night, her face tender and unveiled, his sleeping beauty.
“Sir, your order ready. Be $15.00.”
James paid and left. He didn’t realize that he was smiling.
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They ate take-out in Kay’s living room, surrounded by boxes, laughing about Hank’s penchant for mentally undressing the pretty girls in the office after getting blitzed at lunch.
After dinner, they made love in the shower and again in her bed. When they had both finished, in the twilight made for pillow talk, he knew that he loved her.
“Oh my god, girl, what is with you?” Josilyn said, double fisting a coffee and eyeing the cigarette on her desk, her two essential food groups, “You haven’t been out with us in months”. She smiled, mimed blowing a blue cloud of smoke, and looked at Kay expectantly, her hand somehow finding her narrow hips. “Have you hit menopause or are you just boring?” she exhaled dramatically, only half concerned with what she was saying, her attention pulled between sucking in her already amazing abs while the guy from Accounting passed.
Kay had known Josilyn for the few years she’d been out of college, working at Whim Inc. Unlike Kay, Jos had not been handed this job by one of Daddy’s connections, and was very passionate about her work-and apparently, Kay’s personal life. She was a little older than Kay-mid thirties was the rumor from the bouncer down the block who had once checked Josilyn’s ID, but she didn’t look a day over 20. A very experienced 20, mind you, but Josilyn was a force, running non-stop (in stilettos), with her hair always perfectly in place.
“No, n-menopause? Seriously, Jos?” Kay laughed, sipping her coffee. That woman was a fireball, full of snap judgments and razor sharp comments, but she was always entertaining. It was just a little scary when her gaze was on you. “I’ve been busy-you know, with the move, and…“, Kay started.
“Who is he?” Josilyn said, tilting her head, her eyebrow raised. Kay could feel the spotlight of her stare.
“What? He? Listen, Jos, there’s no one. I … you know me. I don’t… I don’t do that”, Kay said, feeling her cheeks turn pink. She wasn’t one to stammer.
Josilyn shook her head, reaching for her pack of cigarettes, glaring at the No Smoking sign that Hank recently hung.
“Good. Don’t. The only guys that are going to want you are after Daddy’s money, sweetie. Trust me- men get in the way. You can get four a night, why bother with one? They just get old and fat, or they fuck your friends. Jesus.” Josilyn snarled, her expression bold and deliberate on her delicate face. We’re going out tonight. Come.”
Kay nodded absently, chewing her lower lip. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there”, she said, pushing her hands through her not so perfect hair, sitting there, suddenly cold.
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“No, James--- jesus, we don’t have to spend every second together. I told you I’m fine!” she snapped, physically bending into her cellphone, her hands over her eyes.
“I don’t care”, she whispered dully, her eyes now tightly closed, “I have to go.”
Hanging up the phone, she squared her jaw, shook her hair and went back to her desk-she was supposed to meet Jos in an hour and had to finish writing the Birkeshire vows.
James kept his phone by his ear until he heard the wail of a disconnected line, trying to figure out what just happened. He had called to ask if she wanted to go out to dinner tonight to celebrate the six months they had known each other and she had flipped, all the life draining from her voice as she told him she didn’t care.
He … well, he wanted to tell her that he loved her.
Kay was late meeting Josilyn, which made walking in roughly equivalent to jumping into piranha infested waters. The bouncer recognized her and let her inside ahead of the line. She almost thanked him until she remembered where she was. She settled for a cold glance over her shoulder at him as she went through the door, and thought it would do.
“Kay!” a table yelled, and she allowed herself a vague, icy smile. God, she had forgotten how well people respond to what they think they could never have. Her. She continued walking, spotting the platinum blonde in the corner-the only table that wasn’t looking at her. She joined them, and a man sitting next to Josilyn instantly stood up and offered her his seat and a drink. She felt like fucking royalty all over again. Same shit, different shoes.
Three drinks later, Kay was dancing, letting some guy push his hands down her back, letting him pull her into him, their hips rubbing, her back arched. The further she distanced herself from him in attitude, the less she talked, the less she acted interested, the closer they got, his leg between hers, his mouth on her throat. She didn’t want it, but she didn’t push him off. It was like a blanket between them-her apathy and his attraction, and she felt safe.
James was there. That was him, wasn’t it, standing with his back to the bar, some drink in his hand, watching her? Those were his eyes, taking in her body pushed against this random man with his dark hair and his overpriced clothes, his average face with his average thigh between hers, his eager hands. That was James by the bar. She knew the map of him, the details of his stance. They locked eyes for minutes, hours-and then she kissed that stranger, the one who tasted like cheap vodka and cigarettes, his ordinary dick throbbing against her thighs. She was hoping, just fucking hoping that James would have gone without her having to see the pained look on his face.
He hadn’t, and moreover, he certainly didn’t look heartbroken. Kay untangled herself and turned her back, going to the bathroom, not bothering to speak to the man who was probably about to cum in his stupid designer pants that were too tight anyway. Fuck, fuck. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care, she thought, opening the bathroom door, the place blessedly empty. He’ll never love you. He’ll -
She whimpered, hands on her arms, fingers digging into her skin as she was spun around and slammed against the wall, the bathroom door closed behind her, lights off. Someone was holding her against the wall, his face just an inch from hers, his heart pounding against her chest, his thighs pushed tight between her spread legs. He smelled like soap and Saturday mornings in bed-it was James. It was James, fucking paramount, special James with his fingers pushing roughly inside her panties in the bathroom of some elitist bar with the jet-set waiting outside.
“Just go, James. Just fuck me and then leave”, Kay moaned, her fingers clutching his back, skin sliding against skin, her hair in her face, “everyone fucks me, and everyone leaves. Just leave, just leave, leave, leave me, leave me”, she groaned, panting in the dark, pushing her entire body against him, trying to crawl inside of him. He didn’t speak, but his hands brushed her lips, the pad of his thumb against her eyes, her temples, his hips slamming into hers.
“I love you”, he whispered in her ear, the dark so solid that it was only them, her ice trying to melt, her body responding better than her heart, her orgasm loud and violent against him, over and over again.
He left her in the bathroom, and by the time she had thrown her panties in the trash and walked back out to the bar, he had gone.
It's been a very long time since I've updated, so you might want to refresh yourselves with the backstory.
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