Jessica and Sharon (Songs of Submission #3.5)(4)

“She’s pretty,” Jessica said.

“Who?” I asked as if I didn’t know.

“The girl from tonight. Are they all that pretty?”

“Mostly,” I lied.

She looked out the window. “Do they all let you f**k them the way you like it?”

The foul language brought my breath in. That wasn’t her way of speaking, and her tone prodded. I took the bait because it was late, my balls ached, and Dr. Fuhr hadn’t been available.

“How do I like it, Jess? Maybe you can just repeat back to me what you told all your friends?”

“I needed to tell someone!”

“Everyone. You told everyone that I wanted to beat you. Beat you?”

“You changed, Jon. I was scared.”

We’d been through it so many times, the tracks of the argument were smooth and well worn, but that felt different. It felt like the last time.

“I changed because you changed me. And I’ll always be grateful. You made me right with myself.”

“And right with yourself means you want to tie women up and hurt them.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re so f**king vanilla, Jess. It’s like a religion. You can’t see outside it.”

I turned into the ER at Cedars, not facing her until I parked. Tears dampened her face. I hadn’t heard her crying in the white noise of the freeway.

I put my hand on hers, but she shook it off.

“I wish we could go back to the way we were,” she said.

“I don’t.”

***

Erik came an hour later, as she was in the x-ray room. We shook hands like gentlemen.

“Nothing happened,” I told him. “She’s all yours.”

The blonde lock drooping over his forehead swayed. He owned a surfboard company, but his face was permanently tanned from twenty years on the waves. “She never was.”

“Well, honestly, this is the last time I’m coming running. I’m done. And I’m sorry I had my foot in your yard for so long.”

We shook hands again, and I put my hand on his arm because I was really, terribly sorry I’d caused him grief over a woman who was completely wrong for me.

***

It wasn’t until I got on the 10 that I started to feel as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I pulled off on Mulholland to feel the Merc take the curves like a lumbering behemoth for the last time. I hated that goddamn car. I would get rid of it immediately. A smile spread across my face, and I laughed so hard I had to pull over. Laughter overtook me, turning to tears and back to a deep, silent laughter in my chest again. From relief. From a break in tension. From sheer joy. I was free. Fucking free.

The car was too small to contain me. I got out and sat on the railing, looking over the city, quiet, tearful bursts overtaking me. I looked at my phone, wanting to say something, connect with someone, but I couldn’t conceive the words.

When I recognized where I was, I sobered up. I’d kissed Monica for the first time there. I felt a stabbing twinge in my twisted balls. Oh God, I could have her. I could own her. She could be mine, without hesitation or reservation. Mine. The relief turned into excitement.

I looked at the time. I’d have to wait.

Thinking of Monica, I got calm and focused on my phone.

-------------------------

To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

SUBJECT: open a new account

Matt –

Long time.

I need a favor. I need a diamond navel bar. Not a ring. The other kind. Platinum with a 1.25 to 1.375 carat stone. As perfect as you have on hand. Can you deliver it to the east side before noon tomorrow?

Address to come. Let me know.

J Drazen.

-------------------------

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Kevin Wainwright/Faulkner Coal Mine

KK –

Ivan Sinchot is on the board at the L.A. Mod. I need him on the phone first thing. I want to buy Kevin Wainwright’s piece from Eclipse. All documentation. All copyrights. All assets, period. Do it through the Ibiza trust, immediately. Drop everything.

-JD

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My finger hovered over Monica’s number. I wanted to talk to her.

No. I didn’t want to hear her talk. I wanted to hear her scream my name. Hours. I wanted her for hours, and time was one thing I didn’t have. I had real business in San Francisco that couldn’t wait, and I had to break it off with Sharon if I was going to be honest. I texted my pilot, Jacques, telling him I was on my way.

I looked out over the city, feeling as though I owned it.

Beautiful goddess, when I get back, you are mine.

***

SHARON

Having lots of money beat the alternatives, for sure. But having a plane didn’t mean more privacy. It meant less, because everyone on board was there to serve me. I ended up in the bathroom taking care of the dead weight at the bottom of my balls, as if I’d taken a 727 like everyone else. On my mind was Monica, our first night, when we were so sore and tired I didn’t think we’d have another go. She came out of the bathroom, naked, her dark hair a mess, mascara and lipstick worn to nothing. I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her. She kneeled in front of me, looking up with those big, black eyes. Without a word, she kissed my dick, licking up the shaft, bringing the blood with her until it got hard again.