Midlife Correction Ch. 04

"Seems like a nice enough guy," was all he would say. "Went to USC. That's like money in the bank. An accountant, too. Should have offered him a job."

"Oh, I don't think Skip would move."

"Who said move. Didn't Danny tell you? I'm moving the operation here. California's too expensive and the EPA is cracking down. Didn't he tell you?"

Julia was shocked. "No," she said as he helped her into the car. "He didn't say a thing."

"Yeah. That's part of the reason I'm here. Looking for manufacturing and warehouse options. Gosh, I thought he would have told you! Why else would I be looking you up?"

They went for dinner at the Chez Andres, a well-known landmark still serving old-style classic French cuisine. The mood was candlelit, the furnishings busy and overdone. The place was romantic almost to the point of being embarrassing, but Ross didn't seem to notice.

"They recommended this place at my hotel. I hope the food's good."

"It looks very nice." Julia wanted this date to succeed. She wanted it badly.She was hoping to see another side of Ross, a more romantic, passionate side. Something, she hated to admit, that was more like Miles.

But the first thing Ross did was look at the silverware.

"Look at that," he said. "Do they look like they match to you? All that swirly stuff on the plates with the silverware being so plain?"

Julia look at him in surprise. He was perhaps right, but it was an odd observation to make.

He smiled. "Sometimes I notice little things like that. I like to think of myself as a detail man. I suppose that's how I remembered you, Julia. You were one of the details from my life, though you certainly weren't a detail at the time. I had quite a crush on you back then. I don't suppose you ever knew."

Julia felt herself blush. "Oh, Ross. I was so ditzy back then, I didn't notice anything. I don't even know how I made it through high school. But why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Why? I was a high school reject, that's why, and you were one of the popular kids. You didn't go around telling people how you felt back then. You know that. But never mind that now. That's water under the bridge. Tell me about this Skip fellow."

Julia looked confused. "Skip?"

"Yeah. Do you really trust him? I mean, leaving him alone watching the girls all the time?"

"Of course I do. I've known him for years and he's an absolute angel. He has the keys to my house and I have the keys to his. We're almost like brother and sister. But why do you ask?"

"Well, he's gay, you know."

"Oh, Ross!" Julia rolled her eyes. "And the pope's catholic. Tell me something I don't know. But why do you mention it now?"

He shrugged. "I just thought if you were worried about him around the girls, I'd put your mind to rest. We have a lot of gays in California. They're decent people for the most part. A few bad ones give the rest of them a bad rap."

"Well Skip is one of the good ones, and I don't worry about him with the girls."

The waiter came with their menus, and Ross ordered their wine, taking the waiter's recommendation for a red. Julia stared at the menu, but was trying too hard to figure out what "water under the bridge" meant to really understand what she was looking at. Did he mean that high school crushes were a thing of the past now that he was capable of mature love, or that he now longer had feelings toward her?

They discussed the menu and he ordered Beef Wellington and she medallions of beef before Ross steered the coversation back the topic she wanted to pursue.

"I suppose Skip's been a big help since the divorce, not having a man around, a husband?"

Julia was getting used to Ross's unintended callousness so she let it pass. "Yes. It hasn't been easy, and he's been a great friend and neighbor."

"He doesn't have a lot of loud parties and that sort of thing? A live-in lover?"

Julia laughed. "Skip? No. He's about the dullest person you could meet. But why all the questions?"

"I worry about you, Julia. Two kids, no man in the house. There are people who'd take advantage of you."

"Don't be silly. I'm a big girl, Ross. I take care of myself."

"Do you ever think about remarrying?"

She felt a flutter in her stomach. His blue eyes were looking at her.

"If I found the right man, I'd consider it. Without a second thought."

Their eyes locked, and she felt something pass between them, or begin too, but just then the waiter came with the wine and the spell was broken. Ross scratched his head and smiled as the waiter poured his wine and waited for him to taste it and pronounce it very good, and Julia kicked herself.

Whore! she said to herself. Throwing yourself at this man you don't even love! What's wrong with you?

Even though Ross hadn't noticed, she felt foolish and ashamed, and she hid in her wine as he said:

"Hey, do you remember Jerry Zorn from band? The trumpet player? I ran into him about two years back You know what happened to him?"

She tried to pay attention to some story about a divorce and a lawsuit over bigamy but her attention was caught by a couple over Ross's shoulder, sitting in the shadows, the way the man was looking at the woman. The fire of lust was so pure in his eyes that it made her melt inside with sympathy, knowing there was someone who looked at her that way. She knew there was something inside her that could make a man look at her like that, something she was ashamed of, something Miles brought out in her in a way that didn't make her ashamed while it was happening Sitting in the restaurant with Ross, she couldn't remember why it made her ashamed.

The man reached out and took the woman's hand, and Julia thought: Take her wrist. That's what she wants. But then she decided the woman probably didn't even know what it was like to be wanted that way, where a man would tie you and beat you to extract that kind of feeling from you—suck it out of you and leave you an empty shell he could then fill with his own essence.

She realized Ross's story had crescendoed and she was supposed to laugh or show amazement, so she did her best. She would empty her mind of Miles. This was Ross's night, his chance to show her what he could do, away from Danny and Allie and all the business discussions—a man out with a woman. She wanted to give him a fair trial.

But when the food came, Ross was talking about his business, abut his penis enlargement pills.

"The main ingredient is from an African plant called the yohimba vine, and it actually works. Well, there's some evidence that one of the chemicals in there works somewhat, kind of like Viagra, you know. Anyhow, we grind it up and put it in there with some vitamins and minerals and everyone wants it. And damned if we don't do quite a return business too, so I know it works!"

"That's fascinating, Ross."

"You know, I was a fool when I was younger."

She looked up hopefully. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped, fork poised in front of his mouth. "I started out selling electronic pest control products, then home fabric waterproofing systems. It wasn't till I got into male enhancement that I really made it." He put his fork down and looked thoughtful. "You've got to give the public what it wants, Julia. It's a lesson I'll never forget."

At dessert, she broached the subject again.

"Why is it you never married, Ross?"

"Oh, I guess I just never found the time. Business kept me busy, and really, I never found a woman I cared for al that much. Never found one I liked as much as I liked you back in high school."

"Oh, Ross."

"I guess it's still true."

He reached across the table and took her hand and Julia gave it to him, expecting a tender moment. Ross squeezed it and let it go.

"What about you?" he asked. "Did you keep up with any of the old gang?"

Julia was quiet on the ride home. The car was big—some American job with plush seats that rode high and quiet past the frozen mounds of snow under the pale streetlights. The shadows of doorways seemed strange and deserted to her, the blocks of new apartment buildings seemed forbiddingly Soviet and mass-produced. There wasn't a soul on the streets and few cars. They talked little, Ross listening to some light jazz station, seeming content to be in companionable silence. Julia had given up trying to figure him out.

He followed her directions to her house and parked in the street.

"Well, here we are," he said.

"Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

"Yes, you know, I'd love some. I have quite a drive back to the hotel. If it's not too much trouble."

"No. Not at all. Come on. Skip's still up. We can send him home and be alone."

"Oh, no need. I really can't stay long."

Skip was watching some old movie and was surprised to see them back so early. He stood up as the entered, as if he had just walked in on them.

"Oh. You're back."

Julia flashed him a look that could mean anything.

"Yes. It was a lovely dinner. Truly elegant. Ross thought he'd like some coffee."

"I'll just be getting home then..." Skip said, moving toward the door.

"No, please," Ross interrupted. "Don't leave on my account. I can only stay for a bit, and meanwhile there was something I wanted to ask you. Julia tells me you're an accountant?"

"Yes. Corporate. I work down at Singer and Maxwell..."

Ross sat down across from Skip and Julia went to make the coffee. The girls were still up, Beth working on some science project for school, Mal on the phone.

"You're home early," Beth said.

"Mr. Brandt has work to do tomorrow. He wanted to keep it an early night."

"Have fun?"

"He's still here."

"Oh."

When th coffee was ready she put it on a tray and brought it out to the living room, and as soon as she appeared, conversation ceased. Something was up.

"Have you two been talking about me?"

"No, as a matter of fact," Skip said. "There are other things in the world."

"I don't believe it."

"I just might make Skip here a job offer," Ross said. "I need someone in accounting, and he seems to know his business."

Skip looked amused. "We were just talking. I don't know if I'm ready to leave Singer."

"Well, think about it, Skip. Think about it." Ross bolted his coffee, drinking it like a man who had to catch a train, finishing his cup while Julia was still waiting for hers to cool.

"I've got to be off. Thanks for the coffee, Julia. And the evening."

"Ross, wait! Wait!"

But he was already putting on his coat and heading for the door, intent on leaving.

Not sure what else to do, Julia grabbed her coat and followed him out.

"Ross, what is it? Was it something I said? Did Skip say something?"

Ross paused by the driver's door and looked at her. "Of course not. It was a lovely evening. I just have to go now."

"He didn't say anything about me?"

"About you? No." He laughed, then turned and looked at her. "No he didn't. But now I'm curious. What might he have said?"

Julia realized she'd gone too far. She tried to laugh it off. "Nothing. Nothing. It's just that you're leaving so abruptly."

"I'm sorry, Julia. Am I being rude?"

She turned apologetic, her breath steaming in the freezing air. "No, it's not that. I just..." She took a step closer. "Ross, I wasn't mean to you in school, was I? I know a lot of kids were, but I wasn't one of them. Do you remember me as being mean, because I never intended to be, but I don't remember it that well."

He looked puzzled. "No, Julia. I don't remember you being mean. I don't remember you being mean or being especially nice. You were just there, and I worshipped you from afar. That was all. You were one of those people who seemed to live life on a different plane, just kind of numb to what was going on around you, like you were at a football game and you weren't even very interested in what was happening on the field. You were too worried about getting dirty."

He opened the car door. "Now I really have to go. I'll see you on Thursday, I hope. Thanks again for the lovely evening. Bye!"

He pulled away from the curb and Julia stood there, wrapped in the cold, wrapped in her stunning black pant suit and heavy winter coat, wrapped in her own shock and dismay. Was that really how she'd been in high school? Had Hannibal Brandt really been that perceptive to see how shallow she'd been? How shallow she might still be today?

She turned to go back into the house and suddenly was lit up by a pair of brilliant halogen headlights. A car parked down the block had its lights on her and as she squinted into the light, the car left the curb and came sweeping down the street toward her. Julia backed up the walk to her house as the car pulled up right where Ross had been parked and Miles let down the power window.

"Get in," he said.

"What are you doing here?"

"Get in. I want to talk to you."

"How did you find my house?"

"No time for that now. Just get in."

She stood there inutter surprise, but still, she couldn't refuse him. She hurried around the car and climbed in—something low and sleek and made to go fast—and the door closed behind her with a heavy thunk. Inside it was dark and warm after the freezing street and the seat enveloped her like a cupping hand. It smelled vaguely of Miles inside. Soft blue and yellow lights glowed on the dashboard. Red needles quivered. on the gauges.

"Miles, they're waiting for me inside."

"Who was that man you were with?"

"He's the one I told you about. The client from my law firm."

"I thought you were seeing him Tuesday. This is Thursday."

"Well, he took me out to dinner. He's an old friend."

"Old friends go out to dinner dressed like this?" He fingered the fabric of her blouse. "Are you in love with him?"

"No!" She was indignant. "Miles, what is this?"

"Why didn't you answer my phone calls today?"

In the darkness of the car it was like sharing a cage with a tiger. "I was busy. I meant to getback to you."

No, that wouldn't do. She tried to control her nervousness and she said, "I thought it might be best if we don't see each other for a while."

He was silent, just staring at her. The motor rumbled. Julia closed her eyes and steeled herself for his reaction, but it didn't come.

"Miles, I just can't control myself around you. You don't know what it's like. I can't let this happen to me at my age with the responsibilities I have. If word got out..."

"Word's not going to get out."

"Still..."

"So you can't see me because you like me too much?"

"I can't see you because I'm afraid of what you do to me."

She could feel his eyes on her like heat sources.

"You're afraid of me because I make you into what you want to be."

She shook her head. "That's not even important. What I want isn't important. It's what I'm allowed to be—that's what matters."

"Allowed by whom?"

"By everyone. By my daughters, my job, Ryan, Skip, society, everyone."

"No," he said. "You're the only one who matters. You're just using them as excuses. You're the only one who can give yourself permission. It's you, Julia."

She exhaled sharply in frustration and Miles said nothing for a long moment. Then: "Did you make love to him?"

"Miles!"

"Did you? Are you planning on it?"

"I told you. He's a friend, and that's all. We just had dinner."

He reached over and put his hand on her leg and gripped her possessively and Jkulia felt a thrill of alarm. His hand began to crawl up and down her thigh. "Does he know you like I do, Julia? Can he do the things I do?"

"Miles...!" She took his hand and tried to pull it off, but he was so much stronger than she was he all but ignored her. His fingers kept up their mad, possessive groping on her thigh, moving higher and higher."

"Miles, we're right outside my house!"

"Go in there and tell them you're leaving. You're coming with me."

"What?" She recoiled in her seat.

"Open your legs, Julia."

"Miles, please! Don't! Don't!"

"You heard me."

She wouldn't. She'd simply refuse. Refuse the eyes that glittered in the dark, the desire she felt pouring from him. She didn't care what he thought of her. She had no secret urge to do what he asked. His words weren't seeping into her soul like a delicious acid, eating at her self control. She didn't really want to do what he was telling her. No, not at all..

What was the use? She wanted to be exactly what he said she was—a temptress, a slave, a whore. Julia parted her knees, her knees encased in her stunning pant suit. She closed her eyes in shame and denial. She knew what was coming.

His touch was soft, familiar. He reached over with his left hand, turning in his seat and his fingers slid up the inside of her thigh till they could go no higher. He touched her as though soothing a part of her that hurt, and as soon as he touched her, Julia felt her resolve disappear. As easily as his fingers searched for the form of her body beneath her clothes, so he seemed to grasp the form of her desire beneath her denial. She wanted this—lewd, obscene, lascivious. She wanted his touch on her like this—intrusive, violational—denying her sanctity as a woman, as a human being, caring only for the flesh she was clothed in.

He leaned over her, his body looming over hers in the darkness of the running car, and she felt his presence like a weight upon her body, as if he were already having her, already lying on top of her.

"Wider," he said. "Spread them wider!"

Julia did as he said, sinking into her seat in humiliation as guilty, filthy pleasure seemed to melt the very bones in her body. She parted her knees shamelessly and felt him pressing her panties against the rapidly moistening slit of her sex, insistently tracing her up and down, as if he were painting her with sensation. He gathered her wrists together in his right hand and pushed them up over the head rest of the seat, forcing her to arch her back and admit her own helplessness and that just did it for her. She capitulated, gave up all resistance and let her legs fall open in helpless surrender. The car's leather upholstery creaked softly as he shifted in his seat.

"No," she whispered. "No, don't!"

But he was already finding the zipper on the front of her slacks, pulling it down and opening them. The gleam of naked flesh was just visible in the subdued light of the dash where it ended at the top of her lacey bikini brief, and Miles' hand slid down here, between pants and panties and began to tease and toy at her yearning, excited flesh.

"Can he give you this?" he asked. "Can he make you feel this way? Does he know the side of you I do? Watch!"

His finger slid down and around her clit like a butterfly's tongue and Julia groaned, lifting her hips to him and opening her legs still wider. She couldn't help it—what he was doing just felt so damned delicious. It was as if her body was no longer obeying her brain but had its own agenda that involved obeisance to Miles Bernard, and she planted one elegant shoe on the floor and pushed herself up against his invading finger, trying to feel more of his wonderful assault. Her hips moved in a way she didn't know she was capable of, pushing up against his hand with hard contractions of her abdominal muscles, and Julia would have been ashamed had she not been so totally overwhelmed by lust.

He just used her—just took her over and used her—and it was just what she wanted. No tenderness, no concern. Just his greedy, famished fingers and lips taking her apart brick by brick. Her, 46 years old and divorced seven years, the object of this man's devastating, white-hot passion. It was more than she could stand.

He let go of her hands and kissed her and Julia tried to refuse, turning her face away, struggling with her conscience, but what he was doing in her panties made that just impossible. The way he touched her, the sheer arrogance of his caress infuriated her even as it melted her and she turned her mouth back to him and sought him out, wrapping her arms around him, giving herself to this kiss.