F4: Keeping Secrets

"Oh, that feels good." She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Few things beat a foot rub.

"What happened? You run a marathon?"

"No. I just like it when you rub my feet." She smiled.

"Everything okay?"

"Yep. There are some changes going on so we decided to meet outside the office to talk about it. Sometimes it helps clear your head to get a change of scenery." She'd tell him more soon, when everything was finalized.

"How did it go?"

"Pretty well, thanks. We'll all have to talk again in a couple of days, so I might have another later night."

"No problem."

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Same old, same old, mostly." He moved to the left foot. "Dawson said there's rumors about budget cuts, like I needed anything else to worry about."

"I hope he's wrong, but try not to worry too much," she said. "No sense worrying about what you can't control."

"Yeah, I know. Easier said than done, though."

They were quiet for a minute, with the TV droning in the background, as Troy continued to knead her muscles.

She narrowed her eyes when his hands moved up. "That's not my feet."

"I know." He kept his eyes on hers while his hands crept past her ankles to her calves, continuing to knead her muscles but with a gentler touch.

She bit her lip. "That feels good."

Troy moved closer to her on the couch, sliding his hands past her knees. She closed her eyes as he gave up on the pretense of a massage. His fingers trailed over the thin material that covered her sex; Sylvia both enjoyed the sensation and ached for the little barrier to be gone. She squirmed on the couch.

"Like that?" His voice was low and quiet and sent shivers through her.

"Yes. Yes. " She drew in a shaky breath and sat up so she could kiss him. Everything he did made her hot and wet. She knew he could slide inside her that minute and she'd be ready for him.

He was ready, too. He was hard under his jeans; she felt it against her legs. She wondered who would give in first and start stripping clothes. It was a little challenge between them, to see who could wait longer. This time, she didn't think she'd win.

Troy brought his hands out from under her skirt, snagged the waistband and slid it down, along with her underwear. She raised her hips to help him, and when the skirt was gone he put one hand between her legs.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," said Troy as he kissed her again. He pushed two fingers inside her, moving them in and out and rubbing his thumb over her clit. She moaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

His free arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close. Sylvia dropped kisses on his neck, pleased when he shuddered under her touch. She turned her face up and found his lips, desperate for a kiss.

He was relentless in his efforts to make her come, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm in and out of her. She panted as her muscles tensed and heat coiled between her legs. The tension broke and she cried out, clinging to him as he drew out the climax until she had to beg him to stop.

He gave her a moment to catch her breath, then took her face in his hands and kissed her. The scent ratcheted her desire up and she moved to kneel on the couch so she could undo his jeans, continuing to kiss him as she did. He shoved her hands aside and stripped off his jeans himself, groaning into her mouth as she took his cock in her hands and stroked it with a firm grip.

At his urging, she straddled him. Anxious to feel him inside her, she started to lower herself but he stopped her with his hands on her hips. With a sound of frustration, she tried again but he resisted, teasing her by nudging the tip of his cock against her slick, wet sex.

"Troy, please. I want you to fuck me," she pleaded.

"Say it again."

She did and he complied, releasing her and thrusting inside with a grunt of satisfaction. Sylvia braced her hands on his shoulders as they found a rhythm.

He sat up and pulled her close for a kiss, rubbing his hands over her back. His hands moved lower, squeezing her ass, and she sighed with pleasure. When dragged a finger between her buttocks, she jerked back from him, startled.

"What—please, don't—" She froze on his lap.

"Hey, hey, relax." Troy stopped moving and looked at her, concerned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just touching you, I thought you might like it." He cupped her face and gave her a gentle kiss. "I won't do it again, it's no problem. It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I was just surprised." Sylvia tried to calm down.

"Shhhh. It's okay." He kissed her again and she made herself relax. "Let's get back to where we were, okay?" He traced a finger along her cheek. "All right?"

"Okay." She nodded and took a deep breath, then leaned in to kiss him. He settled his hands on her hips again to help her get back to their rhythm. As she relaxed, she felt the excitement build again.

It didn't take long before another orgasm soared through her and his motions sped up. He threw his head back and groaned as he came, emptying himself into her.

Sylvia collapsed against him, closing her eyes and enjoying it as his hands moved in soothing circles over her back. She yawned. "I guess I'm ready for bed now."

Troy nodded and covered his own yawn. "Good idea." He moved so he could see her. "Look, I am really sorry about that, before. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." She shook her head. "Sorry. I was just surprised."

"Okay." He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. "Come on, let's hit the sack."

Once they were in bed with the lights out, Sylvia sighed as Troy lay down behind her and put an arm around her waist. Between the warmth of his body and the whisper of the overhead fan, she was close to sleep in minutes.

As she drifted, she heard Troy say something.

"Hmmm? Sorry, didn't hear you."

"Nothing. Just a question."

"What question?"

"How much of a person's past they should share."

She turned over and gave him a puzzled look. "Where did that come from?"

"Work. A couple of people were talking in the break room at lunch the other day about what to say and not say, and when. I just wondered what you thought."

Sylvia weighed her response. "They should share as much as they want, I guess. As long as it's not hurting anyone."

"You think partners, people in relationships, should keep secrets?"

"Not exactly," Sylvia said. "I guess I just think everyone deserves some privacy, husbands and wives, partners, whatever. Everyone's done something they wish they hadn't, but most of the time it's not such a big deal. Besides, I think a person's actions count for a lot." She yawned. "Sorry."

"No problem." He kissed her shoulder. "Go on, go to sleep."

"Mmm. Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too."

* * * *

A couple of weeks later, Sylvia found herself alone on a Saturday. Troy was working on some side projects again, buried in his home office. While she knew he liked the extra money, she wished he wasn't working. He'd been acting oddly and she couldn't figure out why. She'd hoped to talk to him about it on the weekend, but he said one of his projects had moved up their deadline and he couldn't back out on it.

Well, we can talk later, she thought, and decided to enjoy a quiet day to herself.

She treated herself to a long shower, then got some breakfast. After that, she stretched out on the couch and put on a movie. It was a favorite, but she had trouble focusing; she was grateful when the phone rang.

"Hey, Patti. What's up?"

"Not much. Just thought I'd call. Can't ask you to be a bridesmaid by email, can I?"

Sylvia laughed. "It's probably bad etiquette. Thanks, Patti. I'd be happy to."

"Oh good." Patti sounded relieved. "I was pretty sure you'd say yes, but I understand if you can't."

"No, it's fine. Just keep me posted on dates so I can get the time."

"I don't think Gary's going to ask Troy to be a groomsman, is that okay?"

"Of course," Sylvia said. "They don't know each other that well, and Troy will probably be glad not to have to wear a tux. Don't worry, Pat. He'll understand."

"Great. Thanks. So, now that's out of the way. What's up with you?"

"Oh, not much here either. Troy's working, so I'm just kind of vegging out."

"Didn't he work last weekend, too?"

"Yeah, he likes the extra money. He worries about having a cushion, you know, in case something happens." She paused for a minute, then shook her head. "Anyway, no big deal."

"Sylvia, are you okay? Is everything all right with you two?" Patti sounded concerned.

"They're fine, I guess. I think. I don't know." Sylvia sighed. "He just hasn't been quite himself. Kind of short-tempered sometimes. I don't know why, and when I asked, he insisted he didn't want to talk about it."

"Well, you've told me he's not big on discussing feelings and all that."

Sylvia chuckled. "It's not his favorite way to spend time, true. But usually if I ask, he'll answer. I can understand. Hell, it's not my favorite chat topic, either."

"Not me," Patti said. "I could go on for hours and hours about feelings."

"Yes, I know. Oh, how I know."

"Hey!" Patti feigned offense. "I don't dump it all on you." She laughed. "Just most of it."

"It's okay. I ignore most of it," Sylvia teased.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, kidding aside, are you okay?"

"I am. Really, I am. Just a little worried, is all. I'll just give Troy a little time. To be fair, he has been swamped with his main contract, and someone else moved up a deadline."

"Well, you can always talk to me if you need to. I'm free every other Tuesday after four."

"So glad you can pencil me in."

"It's a good thing we're sisters," Patti said. "Otherwise you'd have to wait until next month."

"Thanks, Patti." Sylvia smiled. "I appreciate it."

"No problem. Call anytime, Syl, seriously."

"I know."

They chatted for a few more minutes and disconnected. Sylvia felt better after the call. Troy had been working hard, and not all because he wanted to, so giving him some time to finish up and relax was no big deal.

She should give herself a break, too, Sylvia thought. She'd been worrying over what Troy might say when he told her, and she shouldn't. Whatever he said or did, she couldn't control it. She had to stay calm and be positive, keep up the habit she'd formed over the years.

"I can be happy, or not," she said aloud. "And being happy is better than not."

* * * *

Troy stood by his car, letting it all sink in. Dawson had been right about the impending cuts, and Troy was the proof.

"Hey, man." Dawson came over and clapped his shoulder. "Tough break."

"Yeah."

Dawson studied him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Troy shrugged. "We knew there were rumors. I just hoped they weren't true."

"Look, Pete will give you a good reference, you know that," Dawson said. "A bunch of people were let go today. But there are lots of places around, and you're an excellent programmer. You'll find something."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Troy dragged a hand over his face. "Sorry. This just isn't what I expected today, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. I feel lucky," Dawson admitted. "I thought I'd be joining you."

Right, thought Troy, but instead he said, "Glad it worked out for you."

They said goodbye and Troy drove home, trying not to be pissed about the day but failing. He should have known, he thought. Dawson had told him about the rumors and he'd allowed himself to hope he wouldn't be affected.

"One fucking mistake ten years ago, and it bites me every damn time," he said to himself. Reed would say that wasn't true, and Sylvia would agree with him if she knew, but Troy couldn't help but think it had to figure in.

He parked and clomped up to the apartment, wondering what Sylvia would say.

She was singing along with the radio and washing some dishes when he came in. When she heard him, she turned to him with a smile. "Hey. I ordered pizza, hope that's okay. Didn't feel like cooking when I got home and I forgot to get anything out, and . . . Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He shrugged and dropped his jacket on the back of a chair, then sat down.

"What happened?"

He sighed. "My contract is up next week and they aren't going to renew it."

"Oh, no." She came over and sat next to him, rubbing his arm in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged again. "Shit happens. To me, it seems."

"It hits everyone at some point." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I am sorry."

"Yeah." Troy stared at the table. In his mind, he could see the next steps: take a few days, then start looking again. Ideally he wanted a full-time job, but he'd keep freelancing as long as he needed to. Regardless, his other contracts were nearly done and unless he found more, at some point he'd have to dig into his savings. Depending on how long a job search took, Sylvia could end up paying the majority of the expenses.

Fuck it, he was not going to have his girlfriend paying his way. He realized Sylvia was talking to him, and shook himself out of his thoughts.

"Um, I'm not sure if it helps, exactly, but this isn't the worst time for something like that."

"What?"

She bit her lip. "I got a promotion. Comes with a raise. Not huge, but still a raise."

"That's great." He nodded, responding on automatic pilot. "You deserve it."

"Thanks." She smiled. "That's what those after-work meetings were about last week. Anyway, you've been working like crazy, you deserve a break. I know it's not what you wanted, but you know, we can look on the bright side. There's a holiday coming up, maybe we can even take a long weekend or something—"

"Christ, Sylvia, give it a break already." He slammed a hand on the table and got up.

"Sorry." She blinked, surprised. "I didn't mean to—"

"I just lost my fucking job. I don't need to hear about how this is a good thing, or how there's a goddamn silver lining, all right? I can't go without an income and it's harder for someone like me to find a job."

Sylvia was quiet for a minute then said, "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." He glared. "You couldn't. You had your nice, picket-fence life where it all worked out. We didn't all have that, you know."

"You don't know what I had or didn't," she said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry the contract won't be renewed, but you'll get another one."

"Fuck! There you go again!"

"Sorry," she retorted, angry this time. "Let me try again. I'm sorry the contract won't be renewed, since it'll take you forever to land another." She dropped her head. "No, Troy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Why not? It's a hell of a lot more accurate."

"But you've got a good résumé, Troy. I know it isn't the easiest job market out there, but it's okay. We're okay. We have some time."

"I don't have enough fucking time," he fumed. "I am always behind the fucking eight ball, it always takes me that much more effort to get a job."

"What do you mean?"

"Fine, you want to know what I mean?" He turned to her and crossed his arms over his chest. "Think you can handle it? Might burst your happy little bubble."

She glared at him and crossed her own arms. "Try me."

"Fine. You know all those nights I meet with Reed?"

"Yes."

"What do you think we do?"

"I don't know. I figured you had some beers or something."

"You're wrong. Reed's not just my friend. He's my sponsor." He waited for it to sink in, but she just looked at him. "I'm a recovering addict, Sylvia. I go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings with him. I was addicted to crack."

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" He stared at her in disbelief. "I don't think you understand. Let me explain this to you. I came from a poor family, but I managed to stay out of trouble, get good grades and get into college. Great stuff, huh? Except that when I was a junior, I met a guy who knew a guy who dealt crack. And I got addicted.

"I barely got through that year, and they expelled me after the next semester. After that I worked a bunch of crappy odd jobs, because I was a crackhead. One night when I was working the late shift at a 7-11, I stole some money. They caught me because I was too stupid and strung out to think about the security cameras. So on top of everything else, I went to jail for stealing and they put me in rehab."

He paused, winded from the emotional outburst. "So is it still okay now?" he asked Sylvia, who had sat wordlessly through his story. "Still 'okay' that your boyfriend was a crackhead and an ex-con?"

"It doesn't matter to me," she said quietly.

"I spent time in jail and you don't think it matters?"

"Does it?" she asked.

"Fuck, yes!"

"Okay, fine. But it doesn't matter to me."

"Of course it doesn't. You're the good, optimistic little girl. You see the bad boy and think you can fix him, right?"

She stared at him as though she'd been slapped. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, why the hell else would you be with me?" He was baiting her. He didn't know why, except that he was so angry and upset about his job that he'd reached some kind of breaking point.

"Because I got to know you, and I love you."

"Right."

She took a deep breath and swallowed before she spoke. "Why do you think I'm with you?"

"Basically, because you don't know any better. You thought I was one thing, but I'm not. Now you think I'm some poor little boy with rough edges who needs a woman's love to smooth them out. Probably read too many Harlequin romances in your frilly little bedroom when you were growing up."

It was Sylvia's turn to get up and pace the kitchen. When she looked at him again, he was surprised to see the anger on her face.

"You are being a goddamn jerk. Know what else? You're also a self-centered ass wallowing in self-pity. You think you're the only one who had problems growing up?" She scoffed. "Jesus. Get over yourself."

"What did you do? Show up in the same prom dress as someone else?"

"You asshole." Tears gathered in her eyes and Troy realized he'd pushed her further than he'd meant to, but didn't know what it meant or how to retreat. So he pushed forward.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? You're always so freaking happy and optimistic, like nothing bad ever happened. You never complain about anything. Am I supposed to read your mind for your deep, dark secrets?"

"Fine. You want the story? Here it is." She came over to the table and slapped her hands down.

He jerked in his seat and looked up at her, unfamiliar with the expression on her face.

"My dad left us when I was six and Patti was eight. My mom worked two jobs most of the time. Patti and I worked ourselves as soon as we were old enough, but we still lived in shitty apartments in bad neighborhoods. We worried about our doors staying locked, not your goddamn picket fences."

She stopped for a breath, then set her jaw and moved on. "Patti went to college, but worked while she did and tried to send money back to me and Mom. She was really a rock, she's fantastic.

"I worked hard and I got into a state college. I did all right, but it was still expensive for me. Patti helped, and I worked, but it wasn't enough. I—" She covered her face with her hands for a minute, then dropped them. "I met a girl who said she could get me a job that paid good money. Turned out it was making porn. I did it, because I needed the money.

"I could tell you no one forced me, I did it of my own free will and I'm not ashamed, and that would be true. But that's not all of it. I didn't like it, didn't enjoy it. I just did it for the money. I did things for the movies I never thought I would."

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "I didn't tell anyone at first, but then I needed to talk to someone. So I told a couple of people, people I thought were close friends." She shook her head. "I was so unprepared for what they said. Such awful things. God, you would have thought I'd murdered someone.