Isn't It Time (10 page)

“Yep.”

“Are they in the refrigerator?”

“Yes! Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied and snuggled in.  I wrapped my arm
around his thigh, under the pillow, my hand ending up beneath his knee. I don’t
know why I did it – it seemed like an intimate kind of thing to do, too
intimate for the type of relationship we had - but it was very comfortable, so
I left it there.

His arm came down gently across my waist and I slipped my
hand outside the blanket and took his, locking our thumbs together. I felt his
fingers settle in my hair and begin a light massage.

“I love you, Jack,” I whispered as I was drifting off.

“I love you, too, baby,” he whispered back - and I was gone.

“Angie.”  Jack’s warm breath whispered across my ear.

I was lying naked on my stomach, Jack’s hard body pressed
tightly onto my back, covering the length of me. His fingers were loosely
interlaced with my own above my head and his lips were at my ear as he pushed
slowly but firmly into me.

A deep moan escaped me as he rotated his hips with a
delicious swirl on the upstroke and then quickly plunged back into my
throbbing, wet heat.

“Angie,” he whispered again.  His hands released mine and
moved to my shoulders, squeezing as he continued the pounding and swirling that
was making my whole body tremble. I moaned again and felt my orgasm
approaching.

“Angie,” he said, louder now as he shook my shoulders. 
“Angie, wake up.”

I jolted awake, disoriented, and found myself staring
directly into Jack’s amused blue eyes. He was squatting down beside the couch
where I was stretched out on my stomach, and his hand was shaking my shoulder.

“Good dream?” he asked, letting go of my shoulder and
grinning like a fool.

“Oh, God.” I closed my eyes and hid my burning face in the
pillow.

“Do women have wet dreams?”

“Oh, God,” I repeated. “Please stop talking.”

“No, I’m curious. And, I’ve got to tell you, I’m willing to
turn over every single thing I own, right now, if you’ll describe that dream to
me – in explicit detail.”

“Please tell me I didn’t touch myself inappropriately in
your living room.”

“No, but if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

I laughed into the pillow, then rolled onto my side and
shoved his shoulder.  He lost his balance and fell on his ass.

“Pervert.  Is it 5:00?” I asked, kicking off the blanket and
sitting up.

“Yeah.  I hated to wake you.  I mean, I
really
hated
to wake you, but I had no idea what to do with the potatoes.”

“No, that’s fine. I probably would have slept straight
through the night if you hadn’t.”  Yawning, I stretched my arms out over my
head, then released them and slumped against the back of the couch. Glancing
around, I noticed that the disgusting pile of tissues I had left on the tables
was gone and felt a little guilty that Jack had to clean up after me.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, now reclined on his arms
with his legs stretched out in front of him.

I considered the question as I sat back up and put on my
shoes.  My head was clear, the pain in my hip was gone and the cramps had
lessened to a dull ache.  Thinking of the cramps reminded me that I had better
get up and make a bathroom trip, pronto.

“Yeah, I think I am.  Thanks again for everything; I
appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, standing up and grabbing my hands to
pull me to my feet. “Now go make my potatoes, woman.”

“Bossy,” I stated, sauntering to the kitchen while Jack
followed.

“Yeah, that’s what all my women say,” he laughed.

I snorted at that as I was turning on the oven, then went to
the refrigerator to retrieve the potatoes.

“Speaking of which,” I said. “How did the date go last
night?”

“Ugh. Awful,” he groaned.  “She had way too many demands and
wasn’t willing to give an inch.  You can’t be that demanding and be a good
submissive at the same time.”

I turned from putting the potatoes in the oven and looked at
him. He appeared to be serious about that laughable statement so I didn’t
laugh. Although I really wanted to.

“No, I would imagine not,” I said with a straight face.
“Well, better luck next time.”

“Eh.  You win some, you lose some.” He shrugged. “By the
way, Luke called while you were sleeping. He said he’s ‘extremely hungry’, his
words, so I told him we’d eat as soon as he got here.”

“Okay. I just need to use the bathroom and then go change my
stupid tire.”

“I already changed it.”

“You did?”  I was thrilled.  “You’re a doll!”

“I know,” he said with a smirk.

I laughed and went to dig my purse out of my tote bag. 
Rummaging through it, rather frantically, I discovered I had forgotten to bring
extra tampons.

“Shit!”

“You left a full box in the bathroom,” Jack said, correctly
interpreting my panic.

“I did? Oh, thank God!” 

I spent a lot of time at Jack’s house and he spent a lot of
time at mine.  As a result, we both had a stash of crucial toiletries at each
other’s houses.  I didn’t remember leaving that particular item. But I was
certainly glad I had.

“Be right back,” I told him.

“Okay.  Do you want me to grill that asparagus?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Okay,” he said again.  “I’ll see if I can find the grill
pan.  I’m not sure where I put it.”

“Jack, your memory sucks. It’s in the bottom cabinet to the
left of the stove – same place it always is,” I told him as I was leaving the
room.

“Thank you,” he called out after me.

“You’re welcome,” I yelled from down the hall.

I turned on the light in the bathroom and shut the door. 
Finally. Privacy.  I needed to process that dream.  The dream that still had me
tingling.  It was true that I didn’t want to touch myself inappropriately in
Jack’s living room, but I was giving serious consideration to doing it in his
bathroom.

I’d had sexy dreams before, but never one so hot that I’d
actually climaxed.  If Jack hadn’t woke me when he did, I knew it would have
happened.  Damn.  It had been right there. I frowned and prayed that I hadn’t
been grinding myself against the couch while Jack watched. 

Wasn’t it just yesterday I was telling myself I shouldn’t argue
with my subconscious?  I was now willing to listen to it; I just needed to be
sure of exactly what it was it was trying to tell me.

I looked at myself in the mirror.  Frightening.  My makeup
was completely gone, except for the remnants of mascara under my eyes.  My hair
had a few strange lumps in it but I was confident I could get it into passable
order.

I gathered up supplies from under the sink, rifling through
my basket of miscellaneous cosmetics until I found a half-full bottle of liquid
foundation, some cheap blush and an unopened package of mascara.  Good enough.

I took care of my necessary business, washed my face and
hands and brushed the sleep out of my mouth.  As I was applying the makeup I
gave thought to restarting that conversation with Jack about the possibility of
a sexual relationship.  That dream had made it pretty obvious to me that
something previously locked deep down in my brain had sprung free.  And it was
telling me loud and clear to go for it.

Of course, I could decide to go for it and Jack might turn
me down.  He’d do it gently, but it would still be embarrassing.  He had seemed
about as turned on by our kiss as I had been. Which is to say, not at all.

And yet, everything about our relationship screamed “perfect
for each other.”  We already acted like a couple that had been happily, but
celibately, married for years.  So why not take it one step further, lose the
celibate and see where that took us? And I’d be willing to bet it would take us
to a very happy place.

I had pretty much convinced myself that I would bring it up
to him later this week, when the timing seemed right, and was allowing myself
the luxury of envisioning the way things might be, wondering what Jack would be
like in bed. Would it be like he was in the dream, or…?  I paused, mascara wand
halfway to my lashes.

Shit. I really hadn’t given any consideration to all that
his sexual preferences would entail.

That domination and submission thing. That wouldn’t fly with
me.  I could not and would not be restrained.  I didn’t mind being bossed
around in bed - in fact, I kind of liked it. And I also knew that Jack would
never, ever hurt me. But I already knew any situation that would leave me
feeling helpless and at the whim of someone else, even if that someone was
Jack, would bring on flashbacks.

There was a guy I had gone out with for a couple of weeks
before Jimmy. The first and only time we had sex together, he had grabbed my
wrists in one hand and locked them tightly above my head, holding my body
immobile with his own.

I had gone into a complete meltdown, crying and whimpering,
trying to fight him off – and I may have even screamed.  It was irrational and
a little crazy, but there it was.  Alarmed by my reaction, he had released my
wrists immediately and rolled off of me.  He was also intuitive enough to
figure out what had triggered that bizarre display. He held me while I
continued to cry and apologize. He assured me he understood and that he didn’t
take it personally.  He even apologized to
me
.

But I was too embarrassed by the whole thing to go out with
him again - which was a shame because he was a really nice guy - and after a
few attempts at contacting me, which I ignored, he quit trying.

Although Jack had said submission was only something he
liked, not something he needed, he appeared to be pretty wrapped up in it. 
Contracts said serious business to me. And if he felt he had to give up
something he enjoyed that much to be with me, I was afraid he would eventually
start to resent me.

Then I would lose him. And there was no way I was going to
let that happen.

I bent at the waist and started working my fingers through
the tangles in my hair. No, I was not going to do anything to change this
relationship.  Sexual thoughts and dreams aside, I was perfectly content with the
way things were and felt it was best to leave them that way.

I straightened up and checked my look in the mirror.  Much
better.  And I realized I was feeling much better, too – almost completely back
to normal.

I cleaned up my mess and put all my things back under the
sink.  Feeling pretty good about my improved physical condition and the
decision I had made, I went back to join Jack in the kitchen.

He was just coming in the back door when I strolled in.

“You look good,” he said.

“I don’t know about good. Better, maybe,” I replied.

“Good
and
better.”  He walked over to me and kissed
my cheek.  I squeezed his hand then moved over to what remained of my pile of
dinner supplies. I pulled out the loaf of Italian bread Jack liked and looked
at it. Then I looked at it again.  About a quarter of the loaf was missing.

“
Jack
,” I said accusingly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to charm me with a sheepish
smile. “I was hungry.  I only had a couple of pieces.”

I glanced over to the sink and saw the empty plastic container
that had previously held the Rice Krispie treats.

“You ate all of the Rice Krispie treats
and
the
bread? Did you save the steaks, or are we going vegetarian tonight?”

He laughed. ‘The steaks are safe. I’m just getting ready to
put everything on the grill.  Luke called while I was outside and said he was
about fifteen minutes out.”

“Okay, then while you’re doing that, I’ll set the table and
slice what’s left of this bread.”

Jack laughed, picked up the container in which he was
marinating the steaks, and headed back to the deck.  The asparagus must already
be outside since I didn’t see it anywhere.  Unless he ate it while I was in the
bathroom.

I quickly set the table and lined a basket for the bread
with a linen napkin. I had just begun the slicing when I heard a car door slam
and Jack issuing a greeting.

The back door opened and Jack called out, “Angie – Luke’s
here.”

Still holding the knife, I turned around with a smile - and
froze.

Nate
.

That son of a bitch.  Seeing Nate standing in Jack’s kitchen
had me wondering again why I was so bad at reading people. I had judged him to
be a nice guy, yet he gave me a fake name – and fake names generally meant
“cheater”.

Nate’s look of surprise shifted into a happy grin, but his
dimples no longer impressed me. “The Rolling Stones,” he said, somewhat
triumphantly.

“Hello….
Luke
,” I sneered the name and glared at him.

Jack looked between me and Nate.  Or Luke.  Or whatever the
hell his name was. “Angie? What’s going on?”

Nate’s grin faded to a look of bewilderment as he cocked his
head slightly and just stared at me - as if I was the one with the problem.
Nervy bastard.  Then realization dawned and he said to Jack, while keeping his
eyes on me, “Jack, buddy, tell Angie my full name.”

Jack eyed us both warily and repeated, “What’s going on?”

“My name, Jack,” Nate/Luke insisted.

“Okay,” Jack said, drawing it out. “Angie, I’d like you to
meet Nathaniel Lukas, Luke, Angie Richards.  Now tell me what’s going on!”

I sagged a little in relief and loosened my death grip on
the knife. Smiling again, I set the knife down on the counter and walked the
few steps to Nate, extending my right hand.  “Nice to see you again, Nate.  And
I apologize for all the truly horrible things I was just thinking about you.”

He shook my hand and laughed.  “Nice to see you, too.  And
even nicer to have a name to go with that face.”

“What the hell,” Jack interrupted.  “You two know each
other?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “We met at the bar Friday night. But I
didn’t know she was your Angie. She wouldn’t tell me her name.”

“She has a rule,” Jack said.

“So I hear.” Nate looked back to me and explained. “Jack is
the only person in the whole world who calls me Luke.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I was starting
to think ‘Psycho’ again.”

We both laughed as Jack just stood there shaking his head. 
“Why do I feel like I just walked in on the middle of a movie?”

“Poor Jack,” I said, reaching up to rub his bicep. “Why
don’t we get dinner on the table and we can fill you in while we eat.”

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed.  “My steaks!” He turned and started
heading quickly to the door.

“Do you need help with that?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, you can come and bring in the asparagus for me.”

“You’ve got asparagus on the grill?” Nate was asking as they
walked out.

“Yeah, that’s Angie’s thing.  You’ll like it.”  He was
already out the door but pulled it back open to call to me. “Angie, can you get
us a beer?”

“No problem,” I called as the door was closing again.

I removed the potatoes, which had browned rather nicely,
from the oven and put them on a trivet on the table.  I pulled two beers out of
the refrigerator, discarded the caps and set them by Jack and Nate’s plates.

I knew they were probably already discussing my initial
meeting with Nate. I just hoped Nate wasn’t too free with the details. There
were things I didn’t want Jack to know and I really didn’t want him to hear
them from someone else.

They came back in as I was getting myself a glass of water
since I didn’t like to drink beer while I was eating. 

“Do you need a glass for the beer, Nate?” I asked, bringing
the bread basket to the table.

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” he answered, smiling at me again.  I
smiled back and took my seat.

We got ourselves situated at the table, Jack at the head, me
to his left, Nate to his right, and dug in.  I speared the smallest steak off
of the platter, cut it approximately in half, and put the bigger piece on
Jack’s plate.

Nate watched that move with a quizzical look.  “Don’t you
like steak?

“I love steak,” I replied. “But I don’t really like to eat
that much red meat – and Jack likes to eat as much of it as he can get his
hands on.”

“This is true.”  Jack was attacking his steak with gusto,
even though it was still the only thing on his plate.  I pulled his plate right
out from under his fork and scooped a large mound of potatoes onto it.

Sliding Jack’s plate back in front of him, I looked at
Nate.  “Potatoes?”

“Absolutely,” he said, handing his plate across the table to
me.  “I feel the same way about potatoes that Jack feels about red meat.”

I smiled and added an extra spoonful of potatoes to the heap
already on Nate’s plate.

“Tell me about this meeting at Foster’s,” Jack said. “Luke
said you were hiding out from an ex.  Which one?”

“Steve,” I answered.  I picked up an asparagus spear from my
plate with my fingers and bit off the top. “And I wasn’t so much hiding as
avoiding.”

“He’s back in town?  I thought he was in Vegas or
something.”

“Yeah, apparently he’s back.  Hopefully not for long.”

“I thought she was going to pass out when she saw him, she
was shaking so badly,” Nate said.

I shot him a look, hoping to shut him up, but I was too
late. Jack stopped chewing, swallowed and looked at me pointedly.  “Shaking?
Why were you shaking, Angie? What exactly did he do to you?”

Jack sounded angry and Nate was looking guilty so I tried to
smooth it over.  “Nothing. He didn’t do anything.  I was just surprised, and
not happy, to see him.  That’s all. Bread?” I asked, handing him the basket.

He took it, but wasn’t put off by my attempts at deflection.
I remembered that I had told Nate that Steve had hurt me and hoped he wouldn’t
add those beans to the ones he had already spilled.

Jack helped himself to a piece of bread and handed the
basket to Nate.  “One of these days, you’re going to tell me what happened with
him.”

Oh, no I wasn’t! 

“Jack, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal.  He looked really
bad, though.”  I distracted him with a description of Steve’s appearance and
the conclusions I had drawn about what caused it.

We discussed that for a bit, Nate adding a detail or two,
but mostly keeping silent. He was probably afraid to say anything further.  As
he should be.

The conversation drifted onto more pleasant subjects as we
cleaned our plates, enjoying both the food and the company.

“God, that was good.”  Jack groaned, stretching back in his
chair and rubbing his stomach with both hands. “I don’t think I’ll be able to
eat again for a week!”

“Right,” I snorted and we all laughed at that bit of
ridiculousness.

“The asparagus was great, Angie,” Nate told me.  “I’ve never
made it that way.”

“Oh. You cook?”

“Yeah.  I’m not good at it, but I do it.  I have the boys
every weekend and their mother doesn’t approve of fast food.”

“Smart,” I said, realizing he had just partially answered my
question about his relationship with the mother.  At least they didn’t live
together.

“Yeah, she has them pretty well trained; they’ll eat
anything you put in front of them.  I agree with her in theory - I just wish I
didn’t have to do the actual cooking.”

He looked at his watch, then added, “Speaking of the boys, I
have to go get my laptop out of my car and get on Skype.  I promised to read
them a story before they go to bed,” he explained, looking a little embarrassed
about it.

“Awww, that’s so sweet, Nate,” I said sincerely. “Some of my
best memories are of my mom reading to me every night.”

“Yeah, well, it’s important to me, because I’m not really
part of their daily lives. It’s how we stay connected, especially when I’m out
of town.”

“I envy you,” Jack said. “I look forward to that kind of
thing myself.”

I smiled fondly at Jack, knowing he felt the same way about
having a family as I did.  Being only children, we both wanted more than that
for our own children.  Not that either of us was deprived in any way – we had
great childhoods.  But it could sometimes be lonely being a singleton, no
matter how wonderful your parents were.  He was firm in his desire to have at
least four kids and I said I’d be good with two - and then I wished him luck in
finding a woman willing to keep popping them out for him.

“Well,” I said, standing up. “While you do that, I’ll get
this mess cleaned up and then I guess we can move on to the work talk.”

“Sounds good.” He got up and pushed his chair in then walked
to the back door. “Be right back,” he added over his shoulder.

Jack got up and we started clearing the table.  I was
shocked to see the only leftover was a single piece of bread.  I started to
remove the basket from the table when Jack grabbed my wrist.

“Stop,” he commanded.  “That’s mine!”

“So much for not eating for a week!” I teased him.

He laughed and pulled me into a hug.  “Thanks for dinner;
everything was really good.”

“You’re welcome – but I think you did most of the work.” I
laid my cheek on his chest and gave him a squeeze around the waist.

“Yeah, I guess I did at that.” He was kissing the top of my
head and I was laughing when Nate came back in, the laptop bag slung over his
shoulder and a small black suitcase in his hand.  He stopped for a minute,
taking us in.

Jack pulled away, smiling.  “I always kiss the cook,” he
explained.

“Good policy,” Nate said with a laugh.  “I’ll probably be a
half hour or so, at the most.”

“No problem; take your time,” Jack told him.

We finished clearing the table and I loaded the dishwasher
while Jack helped himself to another beer. He leaned against the counter,
buttering and eating the last piece of bread, and we made small talk while I
wiped the table and counters, shoving him out of the way with my shoulder.

“I feel steak in my teeth,” I told Jack as he was sitting
back down at the table. “I’m going to floss; be right back.”

“You can’t just leave it until you go to bed?”

“Ick.” I walked out of the room to the sound of his
chuckling.

I passed one of the two guest rooms Jack had set up in his
house, the one I assumed Nate was staying in, since the door was mostly closed
and I could hear him inside.

“The…….”  He was drawing out the word, as if encouraging a
response.  I stopped by the door to listen.

“End!” Two little voices cried out in unison, followed by
some childish giggling. I found myself smiling at the cuteness.

“Okay, guys,” Nate was saying. “Go straight to bed and don’t
give Mommy any trouble.”

“Okay, Daddy,” said one of the little voices.

A loud wail came through the door.

“Michael!” Nate said in a stern voice. “That’s not nice.
Give that back and apologize to your brother.”

“Sorry,” a voice I presumed to belong to Michael mumbled.

“Use his name when you apologize,” Nate instructed.

“I’m sorry, Mattie,” Michael said dutifully.

There was no response from Mattie and I heard Nate again.
“That’s better.  Now, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.  Daddy loves you.”

“Love you, Daddy,” the little voices responded, again in
unison.

“Goodnight, sleep tight,” Nate said, a little louder.

“Night, Daddy!” They sounded like they were leaving the
room, so I started to move away from the door when I heard a very lovely,
definitely feminine voice say, “Goodnight, Nate.”

“Night, Kayla,” he responded softly and then I heard him
clicking out of the program.

I scurried down the hall and made it to the bathroom before
he had time to come out and catch me eavesdropping.

When I returned to the kitchen, I found it empty. “Jack?” I
called out.

“We’re in the basement. Come on down,” he called back.

I went down the short flight of stairs that led to the
spacious walk-out basement, my favorite part of Jack’s house.  We had both
fallen in love with it when he was looking at houses and it was what sealed his
decision to buy this particular house. The basement hadn’t been completely finished
when Jack moved in, but he had done a beautiful job of remodeling it.

Some people might call it a man cave, but I thought it was
much nicer than that term implied. It had a full wet-bar, with six tall stools
lined up in front of it.  There was a pool table and one other large, round
wooden table with eight chairs, suitable for eating, having a drink, or more
likely, playing poker.  And, of course, a flat-screen television dominated one
wall.

On the other side of the room, set a few feet in front of
the sliding glass doors that led to a patio, was a cozy sitting area,
consisting of a comfortably large cream and navy blue striped couch and two
coordinating armchairs, arranged around a square glass coffee table. It was
Jack’s favorite place to read and relax. He had also added a bedroom suite,
complete with a full bathroom, but was currently using that space as his home
office.

His house was large (five bedrooms, including the one in the
basement) but not flashy.  The basement, however, was what made the whole house
exceptional.

“I think your basement is bigger than my whole apartment,”
Nate was saying to Jack as I came around the corner.

Jack laughed. “Well, to be honest, if the house blew away
one day and I was only left with this part of it to live in, I would be okay
with that. I love this room.”

Jack was standing behind the bar, handing a beer to Nate who
was sitting on one of the middle stools. They both smiled when they saw me, the
dual hotness of those beautiful smiles doing crazy things to my libido. I
wished my hormones would settle down because I could suddenly and vividly see
the appeal in threesomes.

“Beer, Angie?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, sure, thanks.” I hopped up on to the stool to Nate’s
right, my short legs dangling.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked as he turned from the
refrigerator and handed me a beer.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You look a little…are you
blushing
?” Jack’s worried
look turned into a grin.