Isn't It Time (11 page)

I felt Nate’s attention turn in my direction and the blush
deepened.

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”  I busied myself
with taking a cooling drink of my beer and went for distraction.  “Could you
turn on some music?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, winking at me.  There was no way (I
hoped) he could know what I had been thinking but that rat was acting as if he
could. He picked up a remote and music blared from the speakers set up around
the room.  Nate and I both jumped before Jack quickly adjusted the volume so
the music played quietly in the background.

Jack and Nate discussed the boring intricacies of the sound
system while I sat quietly, chugging my beer and trying to think of anything,
anything at all, that didn’t involve either speakers or me in the middle of a
Jack and Nate sandwich. 

When Jack suggested we take our beers over to the table, I
was surprised to find my bottle empty.  Jack noticed and pulled another from
the refrigerator.  “Luke?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

Nate declined and we sat down at the table where I was,
ironically, sandwiched between Jack and Nate. I squirmed a little, flushed a
little, and drank some more beer. 

Jack started the conversation by teasing me.  “By the way,
Angie, I like the way you took the initiative in that memo and changed your new
job title.”

“Oh. Well, I just thought Executive Assistant sounded better
than Personal Assistant. I could just hear the conversations everyone in the
office would be having about what personal duties I would be performing. I just
took away the sleaze factor.”

Jack and Nate laughed and Nate asked with a wink, “Didn’t
want to titillate them?”

“Exactly,” I laughed.  “Those people are a little too easily
titillated as it is.”  Jack looked somewhat confused at our amusement.  “Sorry,
Jack – private joke.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You two already have a private joke? 
What the hell went on in that bar?”

We all laughed again and, just like that, our intentions of
discussing work went out the window as they both seemed to decide teasing me
would be more fun.  Nate filled him in on the conversation at the bar and then
Jack informed Nate that I had somehow fallen through a wall in my closet and
landed on a rock.

I finished off my second beer, already feeling a little more
buzzed than was probably advisable, while explaining how the closet falling and
the rock landing were two separate events. Jack got up while I was clarifying
the details of my bad day and returned with three more beers.  I took the one
he handed to me, knowing three was definitely a bad idea. 

My period and alcohol did not usually mix well and it was
never a sure thing how it might affect me. Sometimes I could drink and drink
and not feel even the slightest buzz, but since I was already feeling that, I
knew my remaining options were that I might get sentimental and weepy; I might
pass out right in the middle of a sentence; I might get goofy; or I might get
impossibly horny.  It was unpredictable and all of those things had happened at
one time or another. Sometimes all on the same night. And sometimes after only
one drink.

I took the beer anyway and hoped for goofy.

Nate teased me about my Sponge Bob bandage, which I was, in
fact, still wearing and Jack related the bird poop story, which was interesting
since I hadn’t provided him with the details of how it had happened.  He didn’t
let that stop him, though, throwing in some fabricated details and making a
shitty story hilarious. By the time he was done telling the nearly
unrecognizable tale, we were all laughing so hard I was having trouble
remembering why a little bird poop had upset me in the first place.

When Jack got up again, to get me a fourth beer, I was
feeling no pain. I was laughing at anything and everything and saying things
that were both off-color and totally off the wall. I may have even mentioned a
hypothetical sandwich. Even in my drunken state, I knew I was going to hate
myself in the morning - but they both kept smiling those smiles (that were
getting hotter by the minute) and egging me on.

Halfway through the fourth beer, my ears caught the opening
sounds of
I Want You Back
by The Jackson Five.

“Oh! Oh!” I squealed excitedly. “Turn it up! Turn it up!”

But Jack was already on the move, heading to the bar where
he had left the remote and I started the chair dancing I just couldn’t control
whenever I heard that song.

It was a song I had first danced to when I was seven years
old and it was featured in a dance recital I was in.  I was having trouble
learning the steps, so my mother learned them along with me and we tirelessly
practiced in the kitchen every single day while my father, if he happened to
catch our act, would watch and laugh hysterically. As a result, I had very fond
memories attached to that song.

And later, about three weeks after Jack and I had met, I was
driving as we went to lunch, the radio playing low.  As soon as the song
started, my dancing began (yes, while I was driving).  I had turned to a
grinning Jack and said, “Sorry, Jack; you’ll just have to deal with this.” I
turned it up and added enthusiastic, loud singing to my dancing.  To my
surprise, he started singing, too – and just as enthusiastically. 

We had so much fun with that song that he had added it to
his iPod and we cranked it up and really got into it every time it played.  It
was silly and goofy but so much fun.

Jack had turned the volume up to an acceptably loud level
and I was getting warmed up with my chair dancing, preparing to sing.  Nate
looked befuddled, but entertained, when Jack quickly strode over to me, grabbed
my hands and pulled me up out of my chair. Without a word, he gathered me in
tight against his body, holding our clasped hands against his chest, and
started dancing me around the room.

We had never danced to this particular song and I was
enjoying the hell out of it.  We sang to each other as we danced – Jack
spinning me out and then pulling me back in.  I was a little unsteady on my
feet at this point, and every spin made me dizzier, but he managed to keep me
upright. The next time he spun me out, I let go of his hand and broke out the
Jackson Five moves.  The steps all came back to me as if it hadn’t been years
since I’d done it.  I was dancing my little heart out for a few seconds while
Jack and Nate, much like my father, laughed uproariously.

I grabbed Jack’s hand and he pulled me back in as the song
was ending. Dancing me over to the bar, he picked up the remote and lowered the
volume as the next song was starting.  Laughing, he pulled me into a hug, which
I happily returned. Jack thanked me gallantly for the dance and led me back to
my seat and a smiling Nate.

“That’s quite an act you two have,” he said.  “You should take
it on the road.”

I put my chin in my hand and gazed at him solemnly.  “You’re
funny.”

“And you’re cute,” he said, leaning towards me.

I studied his dimples.  “You’re cute, too,” I informed him. 
I swung around to peer at a grinning Jack.  “And you’re cute, too!”   Throwing
my hands up in the air, I proclaimed, “We’re all just so freakin’ cute!”  That
struck me as being profoundly funny and I started giggling while laughter
filled my ears from both sides.

I don’t remember anything after that.

Jack looked down at Angie, who had suddenly stopped giggling
and put her head down on her folded arms.  Poor baby, he thought while rubbing
her back.  She’s had quite a crazy day.

“Well, Luke,” he said. “I think my girl is all done here.”

Luke laughed his agreement.  “That was strange; fine one
minute and gone the next.”

“Yeah, she does that sometimes,” Jack said with a small
smile at Angie’s semi-sleeping form.

“She had two drinks at the bar Friday and it didn’t affect
her at all.  Is it the beer?”

“Nah. I think it’s hormonal. She doesn’t usually get so
drunk so fast.  But when she does, watch out – you never know what you’re going
to get.”

“Must be entertaining,” Luke said.

“It can be. But now I think I’d better get her to bed.” 
Jack leaned down to Angie’s ear, moved her hair aside and whispered, “Angie.
Honey, can you walk?”

She lifted her head a fraction and squinted at him.  “Hmmm? 
Oh, yeah.  Sure. I can walk.”  She sat up and looked around blearily, settling
her eyes on Luke.  “Goodnight, Nate.  See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Angie.  It was fun.”

She beamed at him and then tried, unsuccessfully to stand
up.  She plopped back down with a laugh and looked at Jack.  “I think you’ll
need to hold my hand and then I can do it.”  She then nodded gravely as if some
monumental crisis had just been averted.  “Yeah. That’ll do it,” she said to
herself with a borderline slur.

“Okay, girl; give me your hand.” Jack stood up and extended
his hand to her.  She grasped it with both of hers and he pulled her out of the
chair.

“Whoa,” she giggled.  “Little head rush.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack said soothingly. “I’ll get you to bed
and everything will be all better.”

“But I can’t go to bed with you!” She straightened her
posture and looked affronted.

Jack heard Luke snort out a laugh and was laughing himself
when he assured her he would not be getting into the bed with her.

“Oh. Okay then.”  Jack thought she sounded a little
disappointed, but that was probably just wishful thinking on his part.

He turned her in the direction of the stairs and said to
Luke, “Be back shortly. Make yourself at home.”

Luke nodded and then smiled at Angie. “I hope you’ll be
feeling okay in the morning.”

“Oh, pfffft!” She waved her hand loftily in the air.  “I’ll
be fine.” She looked up at Jack.  “Well, let’s go then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded and led her by the hand up the
stairs and through the house, while she bounced off the occasional wall.

When they got to bathroom, Jack stopped and asked, “Do you
need to use the bathroom before you go to bed?”

She scrunched up her face as if trying to figure out why she
would do such a thing.  “Oh,” she said after a moment.  “Yeah. That’s a good
idea. I really have to pee….and stuff.”

Jack withheld a laugh at the expression on her face. She
looked as if she knew there was “stuff” that had to be done, but couldn’t
exactly remember what it was.  “Okay, I’ll wait right here for you.”

“Okay, but don’t listen to me pee.”

“I promise I will keep my ears closed,” he said with a
straight face.

“Okay. Good,” she said and wobbled into the bathroom.  Jack
reached in and turned on the light then pulled the door closed behind her. He
leaned with his back against the wall and heard her open the cabinet under the
sink.  He laughed quietly when he heard her softly singing – something tuneless
and indecipherable.

He straightened in concern when it sounded like she had
fallen onto the toilet seat but relaxed when she called out, “It’s okay. I’m
okay!  Just almost missed the seat,” and started giggling.  The singing began
again while she peed. He heard her heave a big sigh and then the toilet flushed
and the water in the sink came on.

He waited patiently while she washed her hands during which
she started singing the alphabet song.  When she got to “Z”, the water shut off
and he straightened up again, expecting her to come out.

He heard her humming and the sound of the medicine chest
being opened and then the water came back on.  Brushing her teeth.  He should
have expected that; she was kind of anal about it.  He heard her spit, twice,
and then shut off the water.

The door opened and she stuck her head out.  “Were you
listening?”

“Nope, didn’t hear a thing,” he lied.

“Okay. Good.” She came all the way out, swiping at the light
switch and missing.  Jack reached in and flipped off the light then caught her
by the hips as she walked by him – going the wrong way.

“This way, honey.” Keeping his hands on her hips, and liking
it, he directed her from behind to the bedroom.  He turned on the hall light
but left the overhead bedroom light off.

“Okay, here you go,” he said as they stepped inside. “Let me
just get the bed ready for you and you can go right to sleep.”

“Okay,” she answered, yawning.

Jack turned around after folding back the comforter and
sheets and was taken aback to see Angie had already removed her shoes and her
jeans. Momentarily flustered, he just stared at her, standing with her back to
him, illuminated by the light from the hall, and wearing nothing but her pink
tee shirt and pink and white striped panties.  And white socks.

He was still staring when she put a hand on the door jamb
and bent forward, reaching down to remove a sock.  God damn!  That ass!  Her
panties had ridden up on the sides and he was being treated to a tantalizing
view of most of her delectable ass.  Even when she wore a bathing suit, which
was always a one-piece, she didn’t expose any skin in the rear.

He felt his dick stirring and closed his eyes, mentally
trying to beat down the rising testosterone levels.  His eyes flew open when he
heard Angie stumble and let out a little squeak.  She was sitting on the floor,
legs straight out in front of her, with one sock in her hand.

“I fell down,” she said unnecessarily.

“So I see.”  He walked over and squatted down beside her. 
“Did you want that other sock off, too?”

She looked directly in his eyes and nodded solemnly.  Then
she sighed sadly and reached up and put a hand lightly on his cheek.  “You’re
so nice to me.”  Another sigh and he held his breath, waiting to see where she
was going with this.  Then she gave her head a shake, as if clearing it, and
removed her hand.  “I think I need help getting up.”

“You got it.”  He slid his hand down her smooth calf, which
he didn’t really need to do, but really wanted to, and rolled off her remaining
sock.  He took the other one from her hand and tossed them both over to where
her jeans were puddled on the floor.

Grasping both of her hands, he pulled them both back up to
standing. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yep. Thank you.”

She walked unsteadily over to the bed then stood at the side
of it, crossing both her arms over her stomach and grabbing the hem of her
shirt.

Jack totally froze, finally understanding the meaning of a
moral dilemma. He knew he should stop her before she took the shirt off.  She
wasn’t an overly modest person, but if she was sober, she would not be
undressing in front of him.  But he didn’t want to stop her. God, how he didn’t
want to stop her.  He’d rip out his own eyeteeth with pliers, right now, for
just a glimpse of what was under that shirt.

She saved him from making the decision by letting go of the
hem, apparently changing her mind about taking it off.  Jack found himself both
relieved and crushingly disappointed.

Damn! Now she was literally crawling onto the bed.  On all
fours.  His dick sprang to full attention as his eyes took in the splendor of
that position. The very one he most often fantasized about.  He squeezed his
eyes tightly closed and told himself to knock it off.  He felt like he was
invading her privacy in the worst way.

“Jack?”

He opened his eyes and saw that she was now lying on her
back in the bed, fully under the covers. She moved fast for an inebriated
person. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so sorry that I can’t.”  She awkwardly pushed herself
up in the bed until she was sitting against the headboard and staring at him.

“Can’t what, honey?”

“I really, really, really want to.  But I can’t because then
you would hate me.”  She sighed and looked comically sad.

He reached out a hand and tucked a stray curl behind her
ear, enjoying the feel of it in his hand.  “You really, really, really want to
what?”  He smiled at how adorable she looked just then.

“You know.  Have sex with you.  Like the dream.  Whew! That
was hot!”  Her sad face had disappeared and now she was grinning while fanning
her face theatrically. Sighing again and returning in a flash to the sad face,
she added, “But I can’t.”

That nearly incoherent string of sentences gave Jack a lot
to think about.  She really, really, really wanted to have sex with him?  And
she thought he would hate her? That dream was about him?  He desperately needed
answers.

“And why can’t you?”

“Because….” She trailed off.  “You know.”

“No, baby, I don’t know.” He cupped her cheek in his hand,
stroking it with his thumb, and wanted to kiss her so badly he could
practically taste it.

“That thing.”  More sighing. She slid down the headboard
until she was once again on her back.  She yawned and he saw her eyes drifting
closed.

“Angie. Honey, wake up. This is important. What thing are
you talking about?”

Her eyes opened a little and she said, “The thing…huh?”

Great.  Now even she didn’t know what she was talking about.
He opened his mouth to speak and saw that he was too late. Her lips were
slightly parted and a soft snore escaped.  She was gone. 

Now he was the one sighing.  Leaning forward, he pressed a
chaste kiss to her lips, wanting nothing more than to climb into that bed and
hold her close to him while she slept.

And if there was a “thing” that made her think she couldn’t be
with him in any way other than the way they were now, then he needed to find
out what that thing was and fix it.

Angie wasn’t usually shy about speaking her mind and he
wondered why she didn’t just talk to him about whatever it was.  He’d had
personal, almost intimate, conversations with her that he’d never had with
another woman.  And that included the ones he had slept with.  So why the
reticence now, especially over something so important?

It wouldn’t be a good idea to start pumping her for
information right away. Whatever it was, she thought it was insurmountable.
Knowing her as he did, he knew if she hadn’t willingly discussed it by now,
then she didn’t intend to. She was guarding that secret with her life.  He
couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be, but was determined to get it
out of her soon - when the time seemed right.

He leaned forward again and kissed her forehead, trailing
the backs of his fingers down her cheek as he pulled away. She stirred slightly
and turned her head towards him, but didn’t wake up.

Adjusting her blankets so she was fully covered again, he
whispered, “Goodnight, baby,” then left the room, closing the door quietly
behind him. 

Then he went back downstairs to join Luke.