Saturday, October 11, 2008
I WAS SO LONELY in that big bed after he left. I lay on my back, looking up at the ugly popcorn ceiling, thinking about everything. Again, my mind went to that pretend place where Casey was my boyfriend and then I fell into a wonderful sleep.
I dreamed that we were in a grocery store buying food and he kept filling the cart with paper towels. When I woke up remembering it, I thought to myself, I'll need all of those paper towels to clean up the huge mess I was making.
I dressed in a camel-colored, pleated skirt and a sleeveless black top, paired with some sensible black leather flats. I pinned my hair up in the back loosely and arranged my now longish bangs over to the side, to keep them out of my eyes. I wore my thick-framed, black glasses and minimal make up. This was a work event after all, not fashion week.
When I got to the convention center floor, I noted that Troy was already at the table across from mine and had everything ready to go. My help for the day was Melanie, and she was there, too. They were laughing at something when I walked up the aisle.
“Good morning, Melanie. How's it going?” I asked as I stowed my bag under a chair behind our tall signs.
“Good, so you know that guy?” she whispered with a blush across her cheeks. I could already see where that was headed. But they were both grown-ups, and really, who was I to question someone's behavior.
Melanie knew I was engaged.
She lived in San Francisco, same as the boys.
Who knew? She and Troy might actually hit it off. Melanie was just as crazy as what I'd seen out of Troy the night before. And she didn't have a problem hooking up at events, as I'd witnessed a few times over the past few months.
“Yeah, he's here with a guy I know. They live in San Francisco, too.” I could tell Troy was listening to our conversation, so I said louder, for his benefit, “Isn't that right, Troy?”
“You're from San Francisco? That's cool,” he answered and smiled at my colleague.
“Born and raised. Live in the Mission area,” she replied, beaming.
We finished getting the pamphlets out and making sure the sample food was holding its temperature as the hustle and bustle of a trade show ensued all around us.
It was forty-five minutes later before Casey finally showed up. When my eyes found him he was talking to a lady by the door and handing her his business card. I watched as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear and then gave her a huge Casey smile. He looked back at her as he took his first steps away.
My gut lurched.
My head knew better. I had no business being anywhere near jealous of any woman he was with, but I was anyway.
I pretended to be looking at something with an early attendee, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He always looked so alive. Well, apart from the night we met, when he’d been aloof and dismissive initially, then attentive and affectionate. I'd only seen him a handful of times, but every time was the same. The way he wore his clothes like he didn't care, but still managed to look like he stepped out of a catalog had me captivated.
He walked to us, smiling and waving at others, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. He wore red jeans—yes, red jeans—and a black scoop neck T-shirt tucked in loosely behind his belt. He was sexy as hell. Wild curls sprang from his head and he was unshaven, I wanted to say, “f*ck this show, let's go back upstairs.” Or, “hell, f*ck upstairs there's room under this table.” He looked that good.
Of course, he was there to peddle beer. And I bet he did a damn fine job. Casey was naturally charismatic and always looked like he was up to something. It's one of the things I liked about him the most. His playfulness.
When he walked past me, he looked over the gentleman's shoulder whom I was talking to, and in a mocking way pouted his lip and shook his head feigning agreement with what I was saying. I had to cough to disguise my laugh.
I then heard my phone vibrate. After finishing up with my first real interested bystander, I glanced at it.
Casey: This is going to be fun. I'm going to f*ck with you all day.
Shit. I didn't think that was an empty threat. It was going to be a major pain in the ass trying to concentrate on work with him standing right in front of me, but having been warned officially that he was deliberately trying to crack my professional exterior? I needed to have my game face on.
I managed to hold it together an hour later as he performed a rather vulgar oral pantomime, which took Melanie down cold. She had to excuse herself.
I didn't budge when Casey slipped a finger through his zipper and waggled it at me, I only responded with the most classy nose-itch/bird flip I could muster while still in business character.
Me: I'm a little tougher than you think, Lou. Better quit while you're ahead.
His table was busy when I sent the message. I did that intentionally to goad him. It didn't hurt that I pretended to take a picture of my boobs first. He watched, eyes bugged out and then his gaze darted to where his phone was, desperate to look when it signaled he had a new message.
Point for me.
When his line slowed down and he had a quick break to look, he only said over the aisle, “Real cute, Betty. We still on for tonight?”
I looked to Melanie, knowing that she was familiar with my relationship status, and said the only thing I could, “Only if Melanie and Troy go.”
“Excuse me,” Troy said to his customer. “I'm in,” then he continued with his schpeal.
I looked to Melanie again and her smile said it all.
“Looks like we're going out,” I said.
The one-up shenanigans continued through the afternoon, but stopped when I went to the bathroom to discard my panties. When I sauntered back, I conveniently stopped by his side of the aisle and dropped them at his feet.
No one except Troy could see them, since there was a table skirt, but I effectively made Casey loose his train of thought completely. When his customer left their booth, I watched as he picked them up and smelled them before pocketing my underwear in his red jeans. A few minutes after that I witnessed him adjusting his erection.
I think that's called a hat-trick.
We agreed to meet in the lobby at nine o'clock to go out in Hot-lanta. I changed into a little, army-green silk romper and paired it with my nude pumps after I took a quick shower, but opted to not rewash and dry my hair.
It saved me some time. I was secretly hoping that Casey would be in the lobby and as I rode the elevator down almost an hour before we had all agreed to meet. I was surprised. He’d had the same idea, because on the way down I got a text asking me if I wanted to get an early start.
The elevator pinged and he was sitting in a club chair facing the doors as I emerged only about ten feet away.
When the doors opened, catching his attention, he smiled just for me realizing that we had shared the same idea.
“Does a hobby horse have a wooden dick?” I rhetorically asked, returning his funny anecdote from months ago. I looked him over and he hadn't changed at all. Still wearing the same clothes he had all day. He sat laughing at me as I swayed my hips in my short romper and heals walking to him.
“Is Troy down here yet?”
“Nope. Just us.” He grinned. As he usually did, he had a teasing gleam in his eye. He stood offering me an arm, “Shall we?”
I took it and we walked down the long marble hall to the bar on the other end of the main floor. In my heels, I was closer to his height.
“Are you wearing a onesie?” he asked, and bumped his ass into mine as we rounded the entry to the hotel bar. I looked down at my ensemble. It was a one-piece, but a onesie? Hardly.
“Are you wearing red jeans and trying to make fun of my clothing choices?”
“I am. These remind me of you.” We chose two open seats at the bar. Neither of us indicating where we were headed, only intuitively knowing that was where we'd go. He didn't ask me what I'd drink. He simply ordered two vodka tonics.
“Care to elaborate, Mr. Kool-Aid?” I laughed pretty hard at my joke.
He didn't.
Casey leaned into me and said against my cheek. “Because, honeybee, when I make your p-ssy wet, your nose turns the color of these jeans. I'm hoping to compare the two later.”
The seduction in his voice was promising and I knew he could deliver. My face heated and I prayed my nose wasn't glowing like his pants. I didn't have to wonder for long, because he placed a kiss on my nose and said, “Don't worry, it's only a little pink right now.” Then he laughed as he paid for our cocktails.
We playfully flirted, which was fast becoming our native tongue. The bar was filling up as trade show attendees came down to unwind after a long day.
Casey and I consumed three drinks while we waited for Troy and Melanie and I secretly couldn't wait to get him back out on a dance floor. If I had my way, he'd be staying in my room that night, even if I had to tie him to the bed.
My phone rang. It was Grant. I saw Casey's face as he read the name that appeared on the screen. I looked to him. For approval? For assurance? For sympathy? I wasn't sure.
“Well, are you going to answer it? Better now than later,” he said and flagged down the bartender. I slid the answer bar and accepted the call coming from my fiancé.
“Just a second, Grant. It's loud in here. I'm going to walk out into the lobby.” I stood on shaky legs as I walked out into the open area, through the chatter of the lounge, and past Troy and Melanie. “I'll be right back,” I quickly said to them as I passed.
“Hi there,” I said to Grant, letting him know I could hear him, and I was far enough away from Casey's ears. I realized in that second that I walked away on Casey's behalf rather than mine. I had heard, loud and clear, what he said to me the previous night, about how it made him feel, and I didn't like the thought of making him uncomfortable. That was why I left.
All the while, I should have left out of fear or paranoia for Grant to hear him. Even though I thought about it, I didn't feel it.
“Hi. How's the trip?” Grants voice was bright and cheerful. It was quiet aside from him speaking, so I assumed he was at home.
“It's going really great actually. We got a few leads and made some really nice contacts. Melanie and I are about to go out dancing.”
Half-truths. I could officially add those to my resume.
“That sounds fun. Take a cab. Don't walk.” Concern coated his words.
“We will.”
“And don't drink too much. It makes me nervous.”
“I won't. Hey, what are you doing tonight anyway?” Better to change the subject than to let him dwell on me gallivanting around a city I wasn't all that familiar with.
“Just some paperwork. I'm at the office.” When he should have been out having a good time with some friends, or even doing something at the house, there he was at his office doing paperwork. It bothered me, but mostly it made me feel bad for him. He was such a hard worker and played by every rule.
Yet, here I was, his fiancée, about to go out on the town with a man who, only minutes before, I'd fantasized about stripping naked and tying to my hotel bed.
Grant wouldn't ever do this to me. Never mind why I was doing it. I didn't even know all the reasons. How I could do this to him was the question rolling through my mind. If only I could work out exactly which he was fairing.
“You should call it a night. Go get a beer. What time is it there?” I looked at the time on my phone and did my fast zone calculations that I was so good at. “It's only almost five. Call Shane. I'm sure he'd like to get out of the house.”
“I might.” I looked through the glass wall into the bar and saw Casey staring at me, nodding his head at something Troy was telling him. He motioned a two to the bartender and then they all tipped back brown shots. Except for Casey, he did doubles back to back.
“Grant, is it okay if I call you in the morning? Melanie is waiting on me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Have fun. Be careful. I love you.”
Before I could say it back, I turned my body away from two prying eyes and replied, “I love you, too. See you tomorrow.” I disconnected the call and headed for the ladies room. I needed a minute.
If flying from one part of the world to another, across time zones and datelines, gave one jet-lag, then what was it called when one’s heart traveled from one man to another and then back in mere minutes?
I'd love to know.
We went to a club named Taboo. Melanie had been there before. It was a little comforting having at least one person who knew their way around. If the name had anything to do with the atmosphere, I had a suspicion I was in for a real experience.
We stood in line outside for a while, but it was a beautiful, albeit humid, October southern night. There was a breeze that washed past every now and then. It was refreshing.
Troy and Melanie hit it off great. Although, I wasn't really getting a flirty kind of vibe from them. It was more of a kindred spirits thing.
They talked about his job at Tinnitus and how she'd dated a few musicians. They even knew a few of the same people back in their hometown. I saw them exchange numbers earlier and I thought it was kind of cool.
“So how do you guys know each other?” Melanie asked as we got closer to the club’s roped off doors.
Casey spoke first, “Her best friend from college is in a relationship with my brother.” The answer was true. Half true. He neglected to add the part about where we had a few one-night stands, communicate almost daily, and we f*cked on my hotel floor the night before. But who was really paying that close of attention?
I still had a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't quite call it guilt, because I couldn't truthfully admit—even to myself—that I regretted being with Casey. Whatever it was, it made me feel anxious. All I wanted to do was get another drink and lose myself on the dance floor with him.
Casey hadn't touched me since Troy and Melanie showed up in the lounge and I was eager to feel his hands on my skin, even though it was risky. But I wasn’t worried about Melanie. She was a love-the-one-you’re-with kind of girl and my desire made me reckless.
Taboo was precisely that. A variety of people were inside the club, and for club hours we were pretty early. Having had a few more drinks at the hotel, it was only a little after ten when we finally gained admittance.
They played house music and the layout was totally bizarre. When first we walked in, there was a glass wall separating us from a dance floor that was elevated about waist high. Upon looking up, through steel beams, I could see the underside of a glass second floor where people had started to dance as well. Strobe and ultraviolet lighting made everything look aggressive and otherworldly.
Melanie and I decided to find a table while the guys got our drinks. We selected a secluded spot in the back where you could see both dance floors and we didn't have to scream to talk.
“So what's the real story with you and Casey?” Melanie asked as soon as we were seated on a circular white couch with a small coffee height, glass table, which glowed bright red from within.
“I don't know what you’re asking me? His twin brother and Micah are dating. You remember me talking about her, right? I met Casey when I was in San Francisco for her graduation last spring.” I answered as casually as I could manage.
If one tells a half-truth at nine o'clock and another at ten thirty, do they cancel each other out? Or make one complete true story? Even I wasn't believing my liar's logic.
I was thankful that Casey and Troy were walking toward us just then, with two shots and two beers apiece.
“Good spot, ladies. Let's have some fun,” Troy said as he placed his handful of drinks on the low table and came to sit by me. It felt strange, but I pretended like it was no big deal. All the while, my skin was screaming for Casey.
“Should we toast?” asked Melanie over the thumping music. Then, answering her own question, she lifted one of the clear shots above her head. We all followed suit and soon there were four arms stretched upward, toward the center of the seating area.
“We'll all make one,” she instructed. “I'll go first. Here's to meeting new friends and replacing the shitty ones.”
“Here's to finding someone to lay on top of me later,” Troy said and we all laughed.
“Here's to brave men who wear red pants,” I said, because I couldn't think of anything good.
We all looked at Casey and he smiled weakly, “Here's to the bait.”
His eyes were fixed on mine and then he raised his shot a little higher signaling for everyone to drink. It was tequila. No lime. No salt. And consequently, no feeling left in my throat. It was like fire all the way down into my stomach.
“I'm going to hit the ladies room and then I'm going to dance upstairs. Meet back here in a while?” asked Melanie and we all nodded our agreement.
When she left I sat in my seat next to Troy feeling two things. Casey's eyes burning through me and the liquor burning through my already murky judgment. I wanted him, but didn’t know what to do or say.
Then Troy asked me, “Do you like to dance, Blake?” A smile crept from east to west across his cleanly shaved face. My gut reaction was to look at Casey and gauge his reaction to this, but I focused my eyes on the beer in front of me. I leaned forward to grasp it just as Troy slipped an arm around the back of my seat.
“She isn't dancing with you, man,” said Casey from across the table.
“She's not? How about you let her make up her own mind, man.”
“She's mine, Troy,” said Casey a little louder than necessary. I presume it was the alcohol making him so quick tempered. I wasn't looking forward to a repeat of last night. Or maybe I was.
“She is?” I didn't know what had gotten into Troy. He hadn't behaved like this earlier or last night. He'd only been fun and, more often than not, a source of comic relief.
“She is tonight,” Casey deadpanned.
His sudden claim to me made me feel hot and also a little nervous. But before the situation could escalate, I moved around the circular seat to him and extended my arm.
“I want to dance with you,” was all I needed to say. What I'd said was one-hundred percent true. Apparently, I was capable of honesty. Sometimes.
He didn't hesitate, and even gave me a Casey smile, as he walked me to the lower dance floor. When he found a place that suited him, he turned to face me, still holding my little hand in his big one.
“What was that about?” I asked as our bodies cinched together.
“Don't worry about it. He's being a...a Troy.” His lack of a better word made me giggle a little and could feel some of the tension roll off his body. My hands snaked up around his shoulder and he brought one of his around low on my waist. The other hung fluidly at his side.
“I liked your toast,” I told him.
He leaned and looked down at me so that we could talk face to face over the lyric-less music. He started moving us to a hypnotic beat and said, “I thought you would.”
My hand, on its own accord, rose into his hair, my heels giving me an advantage I didn't usually have. I splayed my fingers wide and clutched him.
Then I kissed him.
I couldn't hear his moan, but I felt it. Through his shirt, which was already beginning to cling from sweat, and through mine, which was doing the same, I felt his chest vibrate with a low rumble. His tongue teased at my lips and I opened my mouth without thought or concern. The one hand around my waist soon became two.
We grinded against each other for what felt like hours. Song after song we moved our bodies together like we shared a person. I thought back to the first night we danced and how it felt just like that.
Real. Hot. Genuine. Easy.
He was right. I was his. In that space and time, my body was the property of Casey Moore.