A Road Trip Fantasy Pt. 04

Saturday night was busy. The quartet had an intimate little booth off to the side close to the kitchens so Michael could keep an eye on the flow as needed. Over the course of the evening, the restaurant staff and several regulars swung by to hear how Jeanine was doing and offer words of support. Although he would never admit it to Catherine, Aaron enjoyed the little bit of celebrity that rubbed off whenever he was a guest at Chateau Deschamps. He thought it must be a bit like being in the entourage of some elder music statesman or perhaps an inner circle member of some old school mafia family. Everyone would come by to pay their respects to Lonny, the don of the family, and some of the gravitas wore off on everyone else. A few of the regulars raised eyebrows when they recognized Aaron sipping wine and seated side by side Catherine again.

"So the prodigal son returns," one of them said after embracing Lonny.

Lonny chuckled at that. "Aaron came in to help out while Jeanine's under the weather. Don't you be giving him any ideas above his station."

Aaron laughed with them, but he could not tell which way the joke was intended. While he had never gotten along well with Jeanine, their relationship could best be described as professionally polite, and Michael equally rankled Aaron with his slick wheeling and dealing personality and attitude that Catherine could have done so much better, Aaron and Lonny had shared a companionable bond. Not a father-son bond or even a friendship bond, but one of mutual respect and understanding.

As ever, the food and drink were sumptuous. Since he was driving, Aaron limited himself to a single glass of wine but indulged in the appetizers, entree, and dessert with gusto. Relieved that Jeanine was much improved, the Deschamps did not share Aaron's teetotaler restraint, and although none of them were exactly in their cups, Catherine had a little flush on her face and was more effusive by the end of the meal. Lonny insisted the couple take a bottle of wine home with them so that Aaron could celebrate properly. When the owner of Chateau Deschamps offered a bottle of one of his favorite reds, you did not demure.

Thirty minutes later, Aaron poured that wine into the bottom third of the two glasses on Catherine's coffee table. Clouds and a light breeze had rolled in while they were dining to give an uncharacteristic light chill to the evening. Catherine still had the windows near the couch cracked open for some fresh air, but had lit the fireplace before sitting back on the couch next to Aaron.

He offered her a glass and then swirled his before inhaling the aroma. He held it to his lips for a sip. "Delicious as usual. Your father knows how to pick his wines."

Catherine laughed. "He does, but you are so full of shit. I could pour any slop in there, and you'd say it was wonderful."

Aaron toasted her. "Touché. I am still not a connoisseur, but this is good."

Catherine sipped hers. "Yes, it is. Michael found it, but don't let Dad know I told you. He still thinks of himself as the Winefinder." She pronounced the last word with a capital letter.

"Mums the word."

The fire crackled across the faux logs. Aaron could see the light of it dancing at the edges of Cathy's deep dark brown eyes. They were eyes he could get lost in, had gotten lost in on more than one occasion.

They drank their wine. One glass led to a second and then a third for Aaron. They talked and laughed. Catherine grabbed a throw to put over her legs against the slight chill and then offered half to Aaron who accepted.

Catherine sighed and set down her empty glass of wine on the serving tray. "What happened to us, Aaron?"

He snorted. "You don't remember?"

"Of course, I do, but we were really good together once. We were a team. How did we let that get away from us?"

"Shit happens, I guess." He set his glass down and leaned back next to her. "You were too into you, and I was too into me. Team took second place."

She stared at him with those heavy eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "Maybe it doesn't have to anymore."

Before he knew what he was doing, Aaron leaned in, and they were kissing. Her lips were wide and moist and cushioned on his just like he remembered. Their tongues intertwined. Her perfume was the same. Cathy might change hair styles with the weather, but the perfume was a constant. Wine and desire and hurt muddled his mind so he could not remember its name, but he knew the smell.

Her hands caressed his face, and one of his found her breast through her blouse and bra. He squeezed it. Her sigh exhaled the heady aroma of wine into his mouth. His head spun.

Memory swirled in his head, a kaleidoscope of sensations shifting one to the next: the taste her lipstick during their first kiss standing under the yellow light on her apartment doorstep, the customary smell of flowers in her perfume, the sound of her laugh when he chased her down the beach on their honeymoon, the sight of her naked body spread out before him, the feeling of that toned body moving atop of him that first night and all those nights afterward.

Hurt? What was he hurting about?

Jen.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself out of Catherine's arms. In moments, less than a second, he saw a succession of surprise, hurt, and comprehension run across her face. "Sorry, Cathy, I can't." He gestured back and forth between them. "This is over. I can't do this." He wiped her kiss form his mouth with the back of his hand.

Cathy drew up her legs under the throw to wrap them tight and stole it from him in the process. "She must be pretty special. Tell me about her."

Aaron stood up and shook himself. He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing. "Pissed as hell at me, and she would be even more so if she saw what was happening right now."

Marriage had taught her Aaron's moods and his manner of expression. Cathy kept her mouth shut and let him process.

"She didn't want me to come today. She was afraid this is exactly what would happen, but I told her, 'Oh no, we're divorced. It's all water under the bridge. Nothing will happen.' God, I should have listened to her."

Cathy rested her chin on her knees with a sad frown on her face.

Aaron paused and took two calming breaths. "Sorry, I'm just a little raw." He pulled out his phone and confirmed Jen still had not called or texted. "We had a big fight this morning. With everything with your mom, I guess I've kept it all bottled up."

"That sounds like you," Cathy said in an undertone that Aaron either missed or chose to ignore.

"We met less than two years ago, not long after you and I divorced. She was a medical assistant in my office." Keeping his distance lest old habits take control, he plopped down on the other arm of the ell of the sectional. "I fell in love with her. She's beautiful and smart and funny. I think you'd like her." He smiled perhaps more because he was picturing Jen in his mind than because he really thought Catherine would like her.

"We didn't start dating until about five months ago, after she stopped working in the office. She's going to nursing school in Omaha." The sigh filling up the space between his words was long and forlorn. "We've been long distance the whole time. I miss her."

No more of the story seemed to be forth coming. "So she was jealous when you said you were coming up to see your ex-wife." Statement.

Aaron nodded. "I told her there was no reason for her to be jealous."

"So you ignored your girlfriend's feelings to come up to help out with my mom."

"Pretty much."

"Do you remember why we got divorced, Aaron?"

He just sighed and looked at the ceiling.

"And you haven't tried calling her since." Again, it was a statement. The answer was clear. As a lawyer, Cathy knew you never asked a witness a question you did not already know the answer to.

Shake of the head.

"Aaron Stevens, you are an idiot. A sweet idiot, mind you, but an idiot nonetheless." Cathy got up and dropped the throw in a heap on the couch. "My room is upstairs on the right. You can use the spare on the left or join me, your choice." Few people could flounce out of the room the way Catherine could. Contrary to her nature, she even left the tray with the wine bottle and glasses on the coffee table. Once again, Aaron had managed to dig under her skin but good.

When she was gone, Aaron sat there for a few minutes in the silence. Then he pulled out his phone and tapped Jen's number. It was after ten o'clock Nebraska time. She ought to be home, but maybe she had to work and had gone to bed early. The call went to voicemail. "Hey, Jen, it's me. Look, we need to talk. Please call me when you get this." He ended the call and switched to texting: Call me. We need to talk.

He took his time refolding the blanket and stowing it with its siblings in the ottoman before carrying the glasses and tray to the kitchen. He stared at the almost empty bottle for a few minutes not really seeing it. A conglomeration of emotions sat in his chest. When he looked down, the bottle was empty, his glass was full and halfway to his lips. Forgoing sipping, he tossed back the entire glass in one go. His phone neither rang nor chirped the sound of an incoming text.

When he went upstairs, the light was still on under Cathy's doorway. The door to the guest room hung open and dark. He stood there several minutes before he decided which door to choose, but in the end, Aaron realized how little choice there was.

If Aaron goes to the guest room, go to Section 6.

If Aaron goes to Catherine's room, go to Section 5.

5

Catherine sat up in bed wearing a cream colored lace camisole. She flipped the sheets back to reveal those firm thigh muscles just waiting to squeeze around his waist. "Bad idea, honey." Her voice was a husky purr. The words might have been an admonition, but their tone was an invitation.

"Don't I know it." He crawled under the sheets with her into those waiting arms.

They kissed, mouths open. Her lips circled around his tongue. His hand found her breast again, smaller than Jen's and firm with a tight hard nipple jutting out under the sheer lace fabric.

Cathy did not waste time with his shirt. By the time his hand gripped her breast, her hands undid the button and zipper to his shorts began to massage his stiffening penis. She traced its outline with her long nails down his length and around his scrotum.

The sensation straddled the line between tantalizing and threatening, just like it always had during their marriage. Jen kept her nails cut short for work, and Aaron had forgotten the feeling of a woman's long nails on his skin.

Aaron broke the kiss to roll to his back and strip off his shorts, boxers, and shirt. No sooner was he undressed, than Cathy gripped his penis again. She used it like a lever to steer him atop her and then masturbated herself with him.

She wore no panties. Her coarse pubic hair stimulated his glans as she rubbed him up and down against her clitoris. When she reached up to run those nails across his cheek, he could smell the scent of her sex and suspected she had been masturbating before he came in. Aaron shifted down on her body until his penis found her hot, wet, dilated opening. Yes, she had been masturbating.

They found a familiar if rusty rhythm together. If they spoke a dozen words together in that time, Aaron would have been surprised. He rolled to his back and she climbed astride him and rode him until she peaked. Then he rolled her back over and did the same.

Their loving making was trying to blow flames from old embers. The flames came, a low fire crackling down at the end of a long winter's night. Comfortable. Aaron felt like he was revisiting a favorite childhood haunt and finding the colors were not as bright, the rocks not as tall to climb, the food not as good as his memory insisted. Even before the act was over, it was clear to both of them that going their separate ways had been the correct decision. They reached their destinations, but the journey was coach class, serviceable but neither memorable nor luxurious. In the intervening two years, Aaron and Catherine had moved on.

Afterward, Aaron went to the guest room and slept the sleep of the guilty: restless and unfulfilled.

Skip to Section 7.

6

He tossed and turned in that empty bed for more than an hour, but the sandman refused to visit. When he masturbated, images of Jennifer and Catherine alternated in his head, until his fantasy included both women rolling in bed with him, naked and as into each other as they were into him. Sometime after that, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

7

Aaron awoke Sunday morning with a headache that had nothing to do with the wine from the night before. Lack of sleep stood up to take responsibility for the drum beat on his temples. Always an early riser, the sounds of Cathy downstairs in the kitchen floated up the stairway and through the open doorway. A few minutes later, the hum and steam whistle of her espresso maker dominated the sounds of shuffling feet and cupboards opening and closing.

Aaron rolled over and picked up his phone. The screen said 7:27 Sunday, August 5. The only notification was that he had new podcasts available for download. That meant it was almost nine thirty Omaha time. Jen might have slept in this morning if she did not have rotations, but unless she had stayed out late last night, she generally was up by now. Either way, she should have seen his call and text already either last night or this morning, and she still had not answered. Not a good sign. After his performance last night, which she could not know about, Aaron could not exactly blame her though.

He tapped on her number. After a few rings, her voicemail picked up. "Hey, Jen, me again. Still really hoping we can talk, because we need to. Call me. Soon." He ended the call and switched to texts. Still needing to talk to you. Call soon.

"Oh, Jen," he said to the room. "What have I done?" Flopping to his back, he rubbed at his eyes and then stared at the little patterns in the ceiling paint.

After ten minutes with no reply from his phone, he dragged himself out of bed and went to find his travel bag and some fresh clothes.

Catherine kept her eyes on her tablet screen when she pushed a latte across the table at him after he joined her downstairs. Despite his distaste for coffee, Aaron accepted the cup.

Her eyes were serious, and she had on her lawyer face when she finally made eye contact. "Last night's not happening again."

"No, it isn't."

After breakfast, Aaron and Catherine joined the rest of the Deschamps clan at the UC Irvine Hospital to spend the morning waiting for Jeanine's final check and discharge.

With little to occupy him, Aaron spent much of that time brooding on Jen and her lack of response. He kept checking the slow digital tick of time on his phone and recalculating when he should expect her call. If she was out studying with friends until late, she won't get up until ten or ten thirty, and so will call by nine. If she had a rotation this morning, she would have been up at six and wouldn't call then, but she'd be done by noon and call by ten thirty or eleven. Well, clinical rotations can run long if the ward is busy. If she didn't get out until one she'll be hungry and grab something to eat with friends, and she'll call by noon at the latest.

Across from Jeanine's room, the three hands of the clock in the nurse's station became one and pointed toward the eternal care unit in the sky. Being in his old hospital brought back some of the black humor from medical school.

No ring greeted Aaron when he dialed Jen's number, just her voicemail. For the first time, not hearing Jen's voice made him smile. Tactical error, honey, he thought. Now I know you're on the phone. He tapped the text bubble: I can't do this over text. Call me.

Instead of dropping the phone into his pocket, he held it to his chest and waited. The second hand spun about the clock, and the minute hand migrated most of the distance to the two before his phone chimed. He grinned. She had answered. The smile survived through her message though it turned rueful by the end.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cathy look up at his groan. "Still in trouble?"

"Don't ask." His eyes remained on his phone as he typed. You're not making this easy.

He was so engrossed in willing Jen to reply that Cathy's appearance at his side startled him. "You know you don't have to stay anymore. Mom's doing fine. You did your duty."

Aaron turned his phone over. "She'll be discharged soon. I'll see you through getting her home. Anyway, my car's still parked at your place."

Cathy just shook her head in disgust. "Call one of your friends, Aaron and get some real advice. You need to get your head on straight." She retuned to her chair next to Michael.

After a time, Aaron walked out into the hallway and started flipping through his contacts.

8

Sunday, Jennifer woke with her alarm. Her head was still fuzzy from the poor night's sleep, but duty called, and she dragged herself out of bed. While her microwave reheated coffee from a two day old pot, she looked at her phone. Aaron had texted not long after he had called the night before.

Call me. We need to talk.

In some worlds, those words may have sounded promising, but this morning, in Jen's world, they sounded ominous and not much like an apology. "We need to talk because you're sorry, and you want to make up, or we need to talk because once you and good old Cathy got together the sparks started to fly?" Jen stared at the screen, but it refused to answer. "You're going to have to give me more than that."

She flicked to her voicemail. Her phone had done its best overnight to transcribe his words. The content looked to be much the same as his text message, and assuming Apple's voice recognition program worked, his message did not contain the words, "I'm sorry." Her thumb hovered over the play button, but she decided she still was not quite ready to hear his voice, especially if it still sounded annoyed or angry or condescending.

She swiped over the to the car app. He was still parked in front of that house in Irvine.

She went back and deleted the voicemail.

It took her just a few minutes more to transfer the coffee to her Yeti mug, gather her things, and head out the door.

Working the wards Sunday morning was busy. There were fewer bodies hustling and bustling about than during the weekdays, but it seemed the doctors all showed up at once and wanted everything done ASAP so they could get out of the hospital and on with their day. Combine that with lighter ancillary staff for the weekend, and everyone present on the wards was hopping.

Work sped the time along, and distracted Jen from her personal life. This was the way it was supposed to be: working hard and studying to better herself. That was why she had enrolled in NP school and chosen one halfway across the country. Distraction-free was best. In this case, the work was distracting her from her love life rather than the other way around, but Jen needed the distraction.

During her shift, Jennifer left her phone in her locker. When she picked it back up, she could see Rebecca and her parents had called or texted as had Emily, one of her old friends from the office.

Aaron had called and texted again first thing in the morning California time. "Did you wait long enough to roll out of her bed before you called, or did you do it while she was still sucking you off?" The words felt good in her mouth when they came out, but she felt petty and small afterward. Good thing she had the staff room to herself.