Just Julie Pt. 02

Julie had left his hotel room confident he would call. They hadn't exchanged numbers and they had avoided the idea that they might ever see each other again but she had slipped one of her business cards into his coat pocket before she left. She spent the day making sales calls with her engineer. For the most part, Todd, her nerd, handled the conversations. The big one after lunch would be different.

The missed calls and ignored text messages from her husband continued to pile up but she had as yet received nothing from an unknown number with an Arizona area code. Phoenix had three. She couldn't believe it was that large a city. She had an image in her head of dusty dirt roads and cowboy bars.

She walked into Cloudmaster, her largest potential client, feeling prepared. She had a marvelous slide deck, 22 slides that laid out the business case for her education software. It addressed each of their criteria and how her solution had met the requirement and then went into the financial costs and benefits. She had tailored her numbers to them specifically using information from their financial filings. She had role played the presentation with her boss twice.

Before she could open it, they wanted to run through a deck of their own. Point by point they showed her how the competition was better. About the third slide she saw the typo that wasn't a typo. Return on Investment was abbreviated RIO. It was the presentation her competitor, and predecessor had given them. She let them keep talking and stared at the giant screen television set as she played back the highlight reel of the night before. She wondered what her dad would think of him. Her dad had never liked Bobby.

"Julie. Hello."

"Yes," she said, snapping back to reality.

"You said you had a presentation. Can we do it in 15 minutes?"

"Naw. That's cool though. It sounds like CJ made a heck of a case."

"CJ?" the man asked. He looked Korean but his name was Harvey. She was still getting used to Northern California.

"Yeah, CJ. He worked for us before I had this territory. He's a nice guy. Always says RIO though. Does he still pronounce it Rio? Did he try to demonstrate the Rio?"

She had him. He had stopped smiling. He wasn't grumpy, just confused.

"I would like to try to get to the airport before 4:30 though," she looked down at her phone. She could just make it.

"My boss just wondered if you wanted to counter their offer."

"Naw. We are good. I will just make CJ buy me beers later. I'd like to get going if that's okay."

They held her captive in the conference room. After a while the CIO came in. He asked for her boss's name and number. She called him herself and put the call on speaker.

"Hey, Jules, how did it go?"

"So yeah, I have Jim here. He is the CIO. He wants to know if we want to counter EdTech's offer. I told him if they want to buy cheap crap they should. Jim, this is David. David -- Jim. Go ahead."

The two men talked for a time before David asked for her again. He was being awesome. He stuck up for her, which was exactly what she needed today. She wasn't going to get to the airport before his flight left but she might still be able to call him. She had found a number for him on the Internet.

She took the phone off of speaker and held it to her ear. "Say whatever you want to. Make the kill," he said.

"No, I never game them the July price, they still have the June proposal. It's expired." She paused for a minute. "It only went up about $25k. I will get it to them." Another pause. "Well no, we didn't get into the business case. They had a pretty solid argument to buy from CJ. He still says Rio instead of ROI, by the way."

The dorky grey haired guy touched her arm. She scowled at him for it. He yanked his hand away. "If we sign the June proposal today, will he still accept it?" the CIO whispered.

She covered the phone but didn't, "If I ask he will have to ask for approval and that will take a day or two. If you sign it, I can just enter the order. Andrea in Opps is a buddy, I bet she will let it fly. It's still expired though so it might get kicked back." She decided she was laying it on too thick. She grinned her girlish grin and cut to the chase. "Still worth a shot though if you want me to try it."

She left with a signed proposal that made her number for the year. It was 5:25 when she finally stepped out to the street. Her nerd gave her a giant hug. She wasn't happy about it but she couldn't help it. She cried. Flight 1312 to Phoenix had departed.

She arrived home from what forever she would think of as THE trip with eleven different plans and depending on what time of day it was and what her mood was like she was determined to make whichever one she was presently thinking of work. The plans ranged from simple such as dying her hair back to red, to complex such as having one of her friends seduce him and convince her husband to run away with her only to leave him high and dry after the divorce was finalized. Her favorite, despite the weather report for Phoenix that said it was going to be 118 was to fill her car with her kids and clothes and drive south and west until she found happiness. Her least favorite was to quit her job, get pregnant again, and eat chocolates while she waited for Bobby's truck to get repossessed.

She picked up her kids and got a talking to from her mother who had spent the day hearing from Bobby what a horrible wife she was. She kept her big win a secret.

In the car with her boys she called her sister. She needed just a few words of support. Her sister didn't understand why she even wanted to work, let alone work so hard. She could get a job at target and be home every day by 3:30 AND get 10% off regular merchandise and 25% off clearance.

Bobby was waiting for her. The minute they hit the door he sent the boys to their rooms.

"Did you go see them at all this week?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I don't know. Love?"

"Don't change the subject. You are quitting."

"No I'm not."

The conversation stagnated, each of them going back and forth like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck discussing hunting season.

Eventually she just walked away. She dug into her bag to get out the Giants Jerseys she had gotten for the boys with their names on them and went to bed.

She wasn't asleep when he came in but she pretended to be. He tapped her on the back a few times. She sighed relief when he stopped and went into the bathroom; he poked her again when he came back.

"What?"

"I just love you so much," he said.

"Do you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said. She believed he might actually feel sorry because it was easier than denying it. He placed his thick hand on her leg.

"I missed you."

She could have reminded him of his night at the bar but she didn't. She rolled onto her back. He was naked below the waist. He pulled the cheap comforter off of her. She had planned a new bed and linens when her check came in. As he tugged her free of her panties she wondered what difference new sheets would make.

He smelled of beer and body odor. He was heavy. It was a burden to breathe beneath him. For a minute she tried to think of better times, better lovers, but it was too different, the two experiences were incomparable. She bent her legs to allow him inside of her. His gut pressed down on her own.

He didn't kiss her. That wasn't a problem. She turned her head and felt hot breath on her neck.

He was inside of her. Thick, troublesome.

He sweated, stinky sweat, chemical sweat. It dripped down on her chin.

He grunted. He began to move.

She let her mind wander at first but he always brought her back to the moment.

She had liked this once. He had always been heavy but he had been stout. He had been a football player. He had been large but light on his feet. They had danced. It seemed like they always danced and laughed in the bars.

He grunted again. He was moving quickly and she became more accepting. She grunted, he had hit a good spot.

He grunted. She reached an arm around him gripping his T-shirt. She grunted. She moved her hips.

This is what it was going to be, at least for a while, at least until he didn't want it anymore. Her sister had gotten fat. Her mother had always been fat. She would be fat. He would stop insisting then. Probably. That was what she had heard anyway.

He grunted loudly. She grunted back. She raised her hips.

He rolled off of her. He trapped her ankle under her and it hurt but it was over quickly. She lay there for a minute dripping and regretting not being on top, not moving to his side of the bed. He snored.

She got out of bed. She found her bag and her laptop. She couldn't quit but she couldn't keep doing what she was doing. It was just after midnight when she posted for the inside sales job. It might take six weeks to go through the process but she would stay in town. It would make everyone happy.

The last thing she did was change the auto-deposit options on her commissions checks so that she would get hard-copy old-fashioned check. It took an extra three days. She could wait an extra three days.

After a week, he no longer thought about her constantly. For maybe a month he would still stop dead in his tracks when he saw a sandy haired woman in jeans walking through the airport but with time he went back to looking at them in the same way he always had, the same way he would look at a blonde in tight jeans or a red-head in tight jeans.

By the end of the summer the memory of her smile beside him at the bar or the image of her tromping to the hotel room door buck naked to assault the guy from room service had become fuzzy. He likened it to his memories of romantic comedies from the eighties. He knew vaguely what happened and to whom it happened but that was about it.

On his anniversary he took Tara to dinner. She dressed up for the occasion and despite the distance between them and what he believed to be the end of their intimate relationship he had gotten a room at the hotel where they had eaten dinner.

Her first smile of the evening was a sad one and was inspired by his suggestion they order dessert. She agreed to split the molten chocolate cake. He suggested they take it upstairs with a bottle of wine.

"Are you serious?" she said.

"I got a room."

"Why would you do that?"

"Why not. You are my wife, you are beautiful, and I love you." He said earnestly. Her head tipped to the side like a puppy. "I had the points?" he added, teasing her.

"Tell me something... don't lie."

"Okay." He was feeling pretty good.

"Was she significant or just convenient?"

"What?" He no longer felt anything even approaching good.

"The girl... the woman... whoever she was. What, I am guessing mid-July. I don't know exactly which trip it was. I don't know if it went on for a while and it finally ended. I just want to know. Was it a relationship? Did you love her? Or was she just... there."

He just looked at her. They always said women could tell.

"I'll admit mine. It was Bryce. You coached his son. God, how long ago was it... 8, 9 years ago. It didn't happen that long ago. You had quit coaching by then, started travelling. Bryce pulled me over. I was flying. We laughed. It wasn't good by the way, but that doesn't really matter. It was never about the sex."

"What was it about?" He was genuinely interested. Perhaps it would give him some sort of insight into his marriage, into his wife, ultimately into himself.

"Vengeance. To get back at you."

"For the travel..." he added.

"Oh god no. The travel was the best thing that could have happened. It was just... It was vengeance for not being the man I wanted you to be."

"Who did you want me to be? Who DO you want me to be? I am trying to make this right."

She gave him the sad smile again. "Oh Trevor, that's it right there. You don't have to make it right. You don't have to buy me flowers. You sure don't have to take me to dinner and get hotel suites. You don't... You don't make me chase you. You don't present any sort of a challenge. You are like that stupid dog your brother has us watch when he goes out of town. The worse I treat you, the more you smile - the more you beg for scraps."

"Oh."

"So I wondered. Was she significant, did you walk hand in hand through the park and whisper sweet nothings to each other until she got sick of you stalking her like a school-boy with a crush? Or was she just there, too drunk to care?"

"Why do you think there was a woman?"

"Was it a man? I could see that. Because of the flowers. You always give me flowers when you fuck up. You've brought home flowers from every trip, shit, every trip to the grocery store even, for months now. I figured you fucked up pretty bad."

"Maybe I did." He began. He was cut off by the waiter. They had been done eating for a while. "Can we get another bottle of wine and the check please?" He handed over his American Express. He had lost his train of thought. "So, you want a divorce?"

"God no," she replied.

"Why not?"

"Why would I want to give up what I have? I have just gotten the house the way I like it. We live well. I liked dinner, by the way, I didn't think I would. What are we going to do if we get divorced, live in two separate shitty little houses. I can't work, god, I can't even imagine who would hire me at this point. It is what it is."

"But you don't love me?"

"No. I love you. I will always love you." She patted his hand in pity. "I don't like you much, but I am way too old to break in someone else."

"I see."

"Was she pretty at least? You have a tendency to like fat women."

"Don't," he said suddenly, his voice raised above a comfortable level for a fine dining establishment. The waiter had arrived and was uncorking the bottle of wine. "You can say all the bitchy little evil things about me that you want but don't even suggest you know the first thing about Julie, who she is, what she looks like, nothing. Not one fucking thing ever."

"I don't want any more wine," she said, suddenly taking on a far more apologetic tone.

"Bring your glass," he said firmly. He stood and waited for her. With one hand on the bottle and the other on her arm he led her to the elevators and up to one of the Executive Suites.

"Is this what it's like. Is this what you did with her?"

"Who?" he asked.

"Julie." At least she was listening.

"No."

They didn't talk for a while. Elevators don't have elevator music anymore. On the executive floor they stepped out into a small lobby. A concierge addressed him by name, asked if there was anything he needed. He said no. He walked her down the hall, not once letting up on her arm. He used his key to open the door.

"I have to piss," she said. It made him cringe. He still didn't let her go. There was a small piece of wall between the door and a sitting room. He didn't know the layout so he made do. He pressed her against the narrow wall and kissed her. She turned her head. He released her arm and took her chin. He kissed her again.

She bit his lip. Not hard.

He kissed her still. He held her in place and kissed her until he was out of breath. He sucked in air where he could, and then continued to kiss her till she kissed him back.

She bit him harder this time. She drew blood. He pulled away. She smiled.

"I said I had to use the restroom."

He dropped the bottle of wine to the carpeted floor and grinned when it stuck the landing standing straight up. He dropped the glasses. They didn't fair as well. One shattered. He held her with both arms against the wall. He kissed her.

She pushed him, it caused their bodies to separate but not their lips, she could only press at his waist.

She swung her arm. She might have been swinging at him. It didn't matter. It just caused it to move over her head where he held it in place. Forcibly he moved her other arm until he held both wrists over her head.

She smiled at him.

He kissed her

She snapped at him, like a biting dog, or a piranha.

He kissed her.

She kissed back.

With his free hand he pulled at her dress, He forced it up her leg. She had bare legs, no stockings. When finally he felt flesh she had no panties on either.

He smiled at her.

She head butted him. Their foreheads knocked together.

"Ow," she said.

"That hurt," he agreed.

"Fuck me!" she growled.

The sitting room was large, the size of a normal hotel room. There was a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and a large Television type credenza.

He went to move her.

She shook her wrists free.

She hit him.

He used both hands. He got one arm and one wrist.

He spun her. Her arms locked across her chest.

She kicked at him.

This time he did move her -Over the back of the couch.

Her hair fell forward over her head.

She pushed herself up.

He pinned her hips.

She pulled.

He held her.

"Fuck me!" she hissed at him.

He pulled her dress. It moved half way up her thighs. He pulled again. It tore. He heard the fabric give way. He pulled harder. It tore further. Her ass was in the air in front of him.

She struggled forward and back. She tried to kick at him. He undid his pants. He pulled at the hem of his shirt and the front of his jacket and tugged his boxers off his hips. Occasionally he reached for her as she tried to escape. Once he slapped her ass.

He slid into her easily.

She tried to pull herself forward down the couch. He gripped the dress. He pulled. There was more tearing.

His hips slapped against her ass.

"Fuck me!" she squealed again.

He slapped her ass. He left a pink area in the shape of a hand. He fucked her. He pulled her hips, and her dress. It gave way where the skit met the top. A hoop of fabric wrapped around her waist.

"Fuck!" she said this time. "Fuck yeah. Fuck it."

He complied.

He sweated from his brow, hot in his clothes. His heart raced. He was out of shape - too much restaurant food and beer and wine and cigarettes. He didn't stop. He didn't care.

The couch moved a little with each thrust of his cock into her cunt and she growled.

"Yeah... Fuck... yeah... Fuck me."

She made the sound she had always made. It was the syllable "Ah" paused half way, stuck in her throat by her orgasm.

He came.

He thrust each spew of his load into her skanky, whore, cheating cunt.

She had stopped fighting. She had braced her hands on the coffee table, which was now trapped between the credenza and the front of the couch, the furniture having been forced together. She rolled over, falling forward onto the couch and table. Her dress hung most of the way off, only the top covered her tits.

"What now?"

"We go home."

"Really. You fucked her the once and she left. Lame."

"No. She stayed. You and I... we go home."

He had put himself back together. He was ready to leave.

"Wait!" she called to him as he headed for the door.

"What?"

"Is that it?"

"I think it might be." He did not mean just their evening.

"What about the wine?"

"Enjoy."

"But! Trevor! Wait! What the fuck? You are just leaving. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

He tried to smile at her but he couldn't. He was heartbroken.

"Come here. I want that again."

"You can't be serious."

"Wasn't it good? God, it took years, a fight, it took you having an affair to learn how to fuck properly." She rolled onto her back, her legs spread into the air, and he hated how much he wanted her. "Wasn't that good?"

"Not really?"

"Don't you love me?" she cooed, playing the role.

It was a mistake. She set him up. He spent the vast majority of his time playing word games, saying what sounded good in the moment, saying what someone wanted to hear or saying what someone needed to hear. He was conditioned for this.

"I do love you. I just don't like you very much."