53: Ton of Bricks

Marie

     Jesse, I think as his tongue enters my mouth again. How did you learn to kiss like this?

     He pulls me closer to him, and I feel the warm water swirl around me from the hot tub. I squirm from the erotic sensation of the hair on his stomach brushing up against my wet, exposed skin.
     Hands that previously rested on my hips move around my waist so he can hold me firmly to him. I marvel at how warm his skin is, even compared to the water. Curious, my hands begin testing to see if he is indeed warm everywhere and not just where his skin touches mine. He lets out a low groan as I eagerly explore his muscular form. Everywhere I touch, the muscles contract in response to the welcome contact.
     I feel him slowly untie the bikini strap around my neck, the action very deliberate. I wonder if he unties it slowly so that there's no shock once the top is removed. He wants me to know he wants me naked in his arms. I shudder at the knowledge that I want it off too, and the sooner the better. I wiggle to hopefully convey my desire. Finally, he tosses the article of clothing aside, and his hands glide up and down my wet skin like they're devouring every place they touch.
     He lifts his head so he can say one word, "Stay." As his mouth picks up where it left off, he gently separates my knees and moves his body between them. His hands press on my behind, pulling me close against him so that I can feel his poorly-constrained erection through the loose fabric of his suit pushing between my thighs. Then with his hands maintaining their firm grip, he grinds me against him while his hips work in tandem to make me feel pleasure so intense that I wish I could scream.
     He wants me, and I want him right back.

     I realize his mouth has left mine when I throw my head back to the night sky. He languidly runs his lips down my neck as a small, desperate cry escapes me. He moans in response, and I feel the sound of it on my skin as it reverberates through his chest.
     His hands and hips pick up their tempo to the brink of insanity. The speed of his breathing matches mine as intense pleasure pools between my thighs. I cry out again when it becomes unbearable. Why am I finding no relief? I wonder frantically. A keening whine slips out between my teeth as my body shakes from unsatisfied need. Jesse adds more pressure while I dig my nails into the flesh of his shoulders.

      "Marie," he moans, and his voice saying my name brings me over the edge of ecstasy.

      My hands reach out to my sides and grab fistfuls of my bedsheets as my empty orgasm rocks me awake. I move a hand to try to bring more satisfaction, but the crucial moment has passed, leaving me more wanting than satisfied.
     Still panting somewhat, I look over at my alarm clock. It's three thirty in the morning, two and a half hours until Jesse's first simfu lesson.
     I get up and take a shower, unable to get back to sleep.
    What on earth was that dream about? Well, other than the obvious. What does it mean? I think as I realize how nervous I'm going to be when I see him in a few hours. Will he somehow know I dreamed about him?
     And for that matter, how can I even look him in the face after what happened in his office after the party... that he said he threw for me. My mind immediately starts running in circles with the now familiar thoughts of everything Jesse revealed to me last Wednesday night.
     I haven't spoken to or seen him since then. I never responded to his text. I almost feel abandoned until I tell myself that he's probably doing it to give me a little space. I can't help but worry he's given up on me.
     I bite my lip to keep myself from crying again with this thought. I've already done that once already, last Friday when I thought he'd come by the bar, and I don't want to go down that heartbreaking path again.

      I get dressed in my simfu garb that my brother Xavier insisted I bring with me to the island. I suppose I'll have to figure out how to get Jesse some proper attire if he turns out to be serious about wanting to learn. I remember how my dad looked in some of his, and I can't help but think that Jesse would look incredibly hot in that.

      I make my way over to the gym. It's supposed to open at five, and I'm there when they unlock the door. The lady that works the desk smiles at me, and I head out next to the pool where they'd set up the equipment special for me. The training dummy needs some oil on the wood, but other than that, it's in good shape.
      I sit down and meditate until he gets here, hoping that will calm my nerves.
      .........
     I hear people start to slowly trickle in, and I realize I have no idea how much time has gone by. Sometimes I would set alarms for myself because I'd get too into my meditation and lose all track of time, but this is the first time this has happened since I moved here.

     I look at the position of the sun to gauge the time. Surely it's not that far past six already? Is it? I ask someone walking by for the time, and they tell me it's eight. I thank them for telling me.
      He's not coming. He stood me up. Not that this is a date or anything, but he knew this was the time. 
      He's mad at me. That can be the only explanation.
      He did complain about it being early for him. What if his alarm didn't go off or something?
      Two hours, Marie? He stood you up. He's not serious about you. Congratulations, you fell for it.
      I let out a painful huff of air and walk over to beat the crap out of this training dummy in front of me.

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Jesse

       It's been almost a week since my party. I haven't spoken to her since.

       I sent her a text, and she never responded. Fine, Marie, I get it, I think as I pop open a beer.

       I've gone back and forth from wanting to contact her again in some way to cursing her very existence all week. Bryce called me Friday to ask if I was okay, and I told him yeah when he knew I was lying through my teeth.

       I am not okay. I am wanting to get shitfaced drunk.

       She's working tonight I'll bet. Not that I really want to see her, I lie to myself. I just want to go get a drink.

       I put my beer down on the coffee table and get up to get my keys. If I'm going anywhere, I'd better go now since I've literally had only one swallow.

      I get to Bryce's bar and find it closed. He closes on Tuesdays now?

      I guess with only three people working... hm.

      This means she's not here. Is she at home?

       Stop. She doesn't want to see you.

      

      I get back in my car and drive home. When I get there, I pick up the beer I left on the coffee table.

      After an unknown amount of time goes by, I get a brilliant idea. I put my latest beer bottle on the coffee table with its brethren and get out my phone.

      I wonder what Miss Legs is doing right now...

Hey. Where are you?

      I laugh a little after I hit send. I just texted Marie. It's hilarious!

      My phone stays quiet. And stays quiet. It's silent.

      Bitch. I'm trying to be funny here.

      I dial her number.

      "Hello, Jesse."

       "Hey! Your phone IS on! That's good."

       "Why do you want to know where I am?"

       "Just wondering," I answer vaguely. "I'm trying to picture you in my head, and I wanted to know what background to put you in front of." Awesome. Good thinking, Jesse.

       "Are you drunk?" she asks suspiciously. 

       "Nope. Not yet. I... think." I let out a little laugh.

       We're quiet for a few seconds.

        "Hey," I say. Then my words come out slowly, "You never texted me back."

        "No, I didn't know what to say."

        "I forgot what I said," I say, trying to remember. It's more important to me that I DID it and she never returned. "Do you remember?"

       "Jesse..."

       "What?"

       "I'm not talking about any of this while you're drunk."

        "Well, you weren't talkin' 'bout this when I WASN'T drunk so there."

        She sighs loudly.

        "You walked out."

        "You attacked me."

         I'm shocked. "I did not. I kissed you. There's a diffrence, an' do I need ta teach you what the diffrence is?"

        "I didn't want you to do that."

         I get really sad all of a sudden. "Why does everyone leave?"

         "I don't know what you mean."

         "Jennifer left. So did Brittany. And... Bubbles."

         "Bubbles?"

         " 's'not her real name."

         "I would hope not."

          "And now... you."

         "I didn't leave, Jesse," she states patiently.

         "Mhm, yes you did. Right affer I told you everyone leaves."

         "I mean I didn't leave the island. I'm trying to understand what you're talking about."

         "Humph. An' then you didn'n text me back."

         "I told you I didn't know what to say."

        "I texted that I can't give up. Didn'n I?"

          "Something like that, yes."

          "And you didn'n text me back."

          "Jesse..."

          "Does that mean you want me ta give up?"

          She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky way.

          "Are you crying, Marie? No, baby don't cry," I say in what I hope is a soothing voice. "I'm gonna walk ta yer house."

          "No, Jesse,"  she says in a whine. She sounds like she might be crying, and it rips my heart in two.

          I get up, take two steps, and the ground tilts itself at a strange angle. I almost fall flat on my face. My hands are a little slow in catching me, but I manage okay. Miraculously, I never let go of the phone. "Then again... Maybe not."

         "Did you just fall?"

         "Yep. I guess I'm stayin' at home." I say as I roll over on my back. "I miss you, Marie. Will you come over?"

         "That's not a good idea."

         " 'Course it is 'cause I'm too drunk to walk even... an' I miss you."

         "Jesse, no, it's not a good idea."

         "It's a wonderful idea." I pause as a thought occurs to me. "I'm fallin' in love wiff you, Marie," I admit. The other end of the line stays quiet for about five seconds.

          "How can you say that to me?! You don't KNOW me!" Her voice gets shrill.

          "I wanna know you better," I say with the knowledge that I love her filling me completely. "I love yer eyes. I told you that, right? An' you have fantastic legs. An' hair. ... Why di'j'you stop me?"

          "You're drunk."

          "Yeah. I think yer right."

          "You need to sleep this off."

          "Will you come over an' help me? I need you, Marie."

          "Well, now THAT'S an honest statement for once,"  she snaps, and I'm confused.

           "It is."

           "Goodnight, Jesse."

            "Huh? No!" The call ends. What did I say?

        I call her again. It goes to voicemail. So, I call again. Same thing. So, I call again. Voicemail. So, I call again.

       "What?!" she snaps.

       "Why di'j'you hang up?"

       "Because you're drunk, and I don't want to listen to your lines."

        "I'm not usin' lines. Because I love you? That's'notta line."

        "You don't love me, Jesse. You're drunk."

        "I don't love you cuz I'm drunk?"

        "You're only saying it because you are. No, I'm not responding to your booty call."

        I laugh a little because with her accent, booty sounds really funny coming from her. "That is what this looks like, huh?"

        "Yes."

        A moment of clarity hits me. "I'm only sayin' it cuz I'm drunk, but that doesn'n make it untrue ... or that does make it true, or... doesn'n make it true?" So much for my moment of clarity. "I dunno, but I know I love you, so there!"

        "What's my favorite color, Jesse?"

        "Green," I guess.

        She's quiet for a second or two before she asks, "And my favorite sport?"

         "Soccer... or football whadever."

        "How do you know this?"

       "Cuz at the bar you watch the TV the most when it's on. This's fun! Ask me anudder question." I grin.

         "How many women have you slept with?"

         The question hits me like a ton of bricks. I try to count them up in my fogged brain.

          "I don't know."

          "That's what I thought. Goodnight, Jesse." She hangs up.

         I stare up at my ceiling for a few minutes. Then, I call her again. Voicemail. I call again. Voicemail. I leave a message. "Why di'j'you ask me that? That's'not fair." I hang up and stare at my ceiling some more.

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     The blaring sun streaks across my face as I try to close my eyes tight enough to block it out. It doesn't work, so I roll over. 

       I hear my phone make a shrill noise, indicating I have a message. I don't remember hearing it ring. I press a button just to make it shut the hell up, and I go back to sleep.

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

      I'm uncomfortable.

      I lift my head and find myself on my living room floor. 

      Then the memories from last night hit hard... the ones I can remember, that is. I know I texted and then called Marie, but I can't remember the details of what we talked about. I do remember that she said she wouldn't come over because I was drunk. She hung up on me.

      I find my phone on the floor, and I pull it towards me and unlock it to see what time it is. Two in the afternoon. Wednesday. I have a message.

       I go into my voicemail to listen with a confused expression. I don't remember turning off the message notification.
        It's Marie. "I hope that you're not drunk when you listen to this. You wanted to know why I asked you that, and it's because I will not be just another notch in your bedpost, another conquest, another in a long line. You say you're not playing me, that that's one of the reasons you want to take simfu lessons so that you can see me regularly. Then, you don't show up for your first lesson. How can you say what you said and expect me to take you seriously? How can you do this to me when I've TOLD you what I'm going through?" For a moment, she sounds like she's having trouble composing herself before she continues, "Please don't feed me bullshit, Jesse. Go find another victim because I can't handle it."

    I push the button to save the message, a confused scowl covering my brow. What did she ask me that I wanted to know why? Another 'notch on my bedpost'? 'Conquest'?

     'How many women have you slept with?'

     Fuck. She still thinks I'm playing her!

     If I just go and tell her I'm not, she won't believe me. I know she won't. That's what that tone in the message tells me. I'm not 'feeding her bullshit'!

     I gasp as a memory hits me. I told her I love her. ... and she didn't believe me.

     Well, I don't fucking blame her if the first time I tell her is when I'm drunk off my ass... literally. I don't think I can mess this up any worse. 'Victim.' A small 'huh' noise escapes me as I let out all the air in my lungs.
     Shit! She showed up for the lesson after all. I'd assumed that since she stormed out that she'd cancelled the lesson on Monday. Oh shit! She said on Wednesday night that if I was playing her then I could just 'not show up' for the simfu lesson when I'd tried to use setting those future meetings as proof that I WASN'T playing her.
       I let out a pathetic whine and put my fists on my pounding forehead. I'm an asshole.

     I should call her and explain.

     No. I'm finding her and doing this in person. This island isn't THAT big. I WILL find her.