Red Roses Ch. 02 - White Roses

I quickly stripped out of my clothes, save for the now-familiar ski-mask that had gotten so much work on these encounters. I grabbed the bottle of oil, poured some in my hand, and set the bottle on the washcloth.

Trish tensed when I touched her legs with my oil-slicked fingers. I made long strokes up the tops of her thighs, with my thumbs creasing the inside, just avoiding the folds of her sex, then worked soft trails down the outside of her legs, from her hips to her ankles. I pushed up her shin and over her knee and repeated the pattern.

Her tension ebbed after I had done the full pattern twice. Her deepening breaths and the slack, relaxed tone of her muscles told me she was enjoying it. A rumbling purr drifted from her mouth and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

I massaged her legs for ten minutes. At no point did I touch her pussy, though my fingertips skimmed just outside her lips at the top of my pattern, less than an inch away.

When she was relaxed and pliant, I moved to her arms. I rubbed her shoulder and biceps, her abdomen, her rib cage, under her breasts, and her collarbones. I allowed my hands to drift up the sides of her neck.

For her part, Trish cooed and whimpered as I stroked her skin.

When I was done, she was limp as a cooked noodle—and I was hard as an iron bar. I unfolded the second towel and blotted the pools of oil from her skin. When I was done, I capped the bottle, tossed both towels to the floor, and crawled into bed with her.

Trish murmured something. I gathered she was half out of it already.

I nestled my shoulders between her legs. My body gently moved her thighs apart. She offered no resistance. I kissed her mound and nuzzled my nose into her. Heat from her body pulsed against my face as I made a slow cycle up and down the length of her nether lips. When I reached the top, I extended my tongue, pressed into her, and flicked against her clit.

Trish moaned. A spasm rippled the length of her body.

I licked her bud, tapping it with my tongue, or pushing my face forward to take it between my lips and give it a gentle tug. I eased my thumb into her tunnel. Her pussy clamped down on me. Trish stiffened and hissed. Her body quivered for a few seconds as the minor orgasm tore through her.

I kept at it, licking and nibbling. My thumb made slow circles inside her, rubbing against the walls. Trish's thighs clenched my head as she came a second time, a few minutes later. Fluid poured from her. My face was soaked, the sheets were soaked.

I wanted to cheer.

Her third orgasm took a bit longer, perhaps another fifteen minutes. She shook as she came—so much so her teeth actually chattered. I was glad she was getting so much pleasure but also that she finally finished the third time, as my tongue was starting to go numb.

I climbed off the bed, ignoring her whimper. The towels lay where I'd flung them. I picked one up and wiped my face and even my tongue. I gazed at Trish, naked and trembling on the bed and my nerve almost failed.

Once I had steeled my nerves, I picked up the handcuff key. I tried to be gruff. "That was just the warm-up."

Trish made a noise somewhere between apprehension and anticipation.

I settled between her legs again, this time with my lower body, and moved my pelvis against hers. My rock-hard cock slid into her like a knife into half-melted butter. Trish groaned and canted her head back.

I made several gentle thrusts into her, savoring the wet, tight grip on my dick. Trish groaned along with me. I reached up and unlocked the handcuffs from her left wrist.

Trish hesitated. I sensed her confusion.

As fast I would manage without breaking our rhythm, I unlocked her right wrist, tossed the cuffs aside, and pinned both her wrists to the mattress above her head with my left hand. Again, it was a foolish situation—one she could have escaped from in half a second if she wanted to. As it was, Trish relaxed and resumed rolling her hips to meet each of my thrusts.

I lowered my lips to her neck and glided across the soft skin with the tip of my tongue, all the way under her jawline to her chin. I nibbled and licked even as I continued to gently push my steely prick in and out of her soft, wet folds.

My left hand still held her hands. With my right, I peeled the ski mask from my head and threw it to the floor. I released her hands and placed her right hand on my shoulder. I took one last deep breath and thought, here goes nothing.

I pulled the sleeping mask from Trish's eyes.

She blinked and stared at me. I was still inside her but now we were unmistakably face-to-face. No more masks. No more illusions.

Something flickered in the depth of her gaze. I couldn't tell if it was panic or discomfort and in my own growing uncertainty, I got reckless.

I kissed her.

Distance and time lend clarity. When I look back now, I have to laugh. Trish and I had fucked the hell out of each other. I'd come in her pussy, in her ass, all over her face. She'd stared in my eyes as she sucked my cock. Yet the act of something as simple and innocent as a closed-mouthed kiss was intimacy for which she was not ready.

Trish wrenched her mouth away from mine. For a moment I thought I'd hurt her. Then she whispered the word that set me back on my heels.

"Cincinnati."

"Huh?" I admit, not my most eloquent statement.

She stared at me and said it again. "Cincinnati."

There is was: the safe word. She'd even said it twice.

I didn't have a choice.

I released her and edged back until my cock came out of her. I climbed off the bed, got dressed, and collected my stuff.

As soon as I left the bed, Trish grabbed the blankets and pulled them to her chin in a white-knuckled grip. She wouldn't look at me. Neither of us spoke.

I managed to get everything gathered up and headed for the back door. I paused at the bedroom doorway and looked back at Trish. She still lay in the bed, the blankets in her death grip.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her what was in my heart. I couldn't. I drove home in a mental fog, wondering where we'd go from here.

Two days later, the black envelope arrived in the mail. I sat on the couch and gazed at it. When I made to tear it open, my hands suddenly refused to cooperate. Only through sheer willpower was I able to slit the envelope and draw the card with trembling fingers.

The card bore two words.

I'm out.

I placed the envelope and card on the table and stared at the wall, all the while trying to decide how badly I'd fucked up my life.

#

I know I'm a smart guy but sometimes, I'm just not that bright. 'Moron' is among the kinder of words I called myself. I spent so much time worrying that our liaisons would mutilate our friendship, when expressing the truth had been the bloodiest wound of all.

I waited a few days before I texted Trish. I tried to keep it light:

Going to movies Fri @7PM w/ Ben, Bri & Jill..want to come?

Her response was instant.

Can't, busy

I gazed at the text message. For the first time in I don't know how long, Trish didn't add a smiley-faced emoji on the end of her message. I remembered her saying that she always added that smiley face because talking to me made her happy.

I guess she wasn't happy with me right now.

I drifted through the week. While I was at work, with a little effort and concentration, I was able to keep my thoughts off her. The evenings at home, though, is when my mind closed in on itself. I tried drinking. I played video games until my fingers and wrists hurt. I watched some porn and thought about rubbing one out but I couldn't get into it. Each time I tried, I'd shut down the video in less than three minutes. I even considered going out to see if I could hook up but I didn't. Whatever was waiting out there was a pale imitation of what I'd already had.

I sent her a couple of text messages a week—at no greater frequency than I had before, and always regarding the same activities we normally discussed. Trish didn't respond at first and when she did, her grudging tone was clear. Over time, her responses grew less frigid. She finally agreed to meet with the gang of our friends at O'Malley's on a coming Friday night.

I was nervous but optimistic. I hadn't seen her since that last night at her house or even spoken to her on the phone. All our communication had been through texts. When I thought about it, I realized it had been over a month without voice or visual contact. That was longer than we had ever gone since we were kids.

I apparently wasn't the only one who noticed. Jim and Tina got to O'Malley's right after I did. They ordered drinks and Tina immediately excused herself to the restroom. As soon as she was gone, Jim said, "Hey, Justin. Can I bug you for a sec?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"What's going on with you and Trish?"

A cold shiver fired down my spine. "Why? Did she say something?"

"No, that's just it. She hasn't said a word. Neither have you. You've both been moping about for the last few weeks and you never come hang out with us together. You used to be joined at the hip."

I took a drink to conceal my frown. "We're...just having a tough moment, that's all."

"Talk to me, man. We're all concerned about you."

"Who's 'we?' "

"All your friends. Everyone's noticed. It's not like either of you has done a good job of hiding it."

I sighed. "Nothing to talk about. Just something we have to work out."

Ben frowned but nodded.

Tina returned a moment later. I caught the look between them—the one from her that said, Did you ask?, and the one back from him that conveyed, I'll tell you later.

The rest of our friends slowly trickled in. I admit it was good to see everyone. Marty, Jim, Ben, and I engaged in a round of darts while the ladies sat together, laughed at us, and sipped their drinks. I talked shit with the guys over our scores and managed to work my way through two beers. I even forgot about Trish for a few minutes.

Then she appeared. And everything fell apart.

I saw her just as she arrived at the table. She wore a blouse and jeans, and a ballcap with her hair pulled through the back. She smiled her dimpled smile and embraced the girls. I was struck by how she seemed to just shine with happiness. I grinned, hoping this was the start of the healing.

A tall, awkward guy hovered behind her. He was reasonably good-looking but wore an expression of nervousness. My smile slipped a little as I wondered what his deal was.

Then Trish turned and put her hand on his elbow. Even through the hubbub in the tavern, her words were clear as day.

"Everyone, this is Matthew, the guy I've been seeing."

I don't know how long I stood there gaping. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds but as her words reverberated in my head and her simple revelation gouged my heart, it felt like an eternity.

Marty nudged me. "Come on."

Zombie-like, I followed them back to the table. The girls' mood seemed subdued and I caught all them alternating their gazes back and forth between me and Trish.

Trish glanced at me. She didn't even smile.

I knew right then that it was all over.

Despite what my prolonged mooning over Trish would indicate, I'm in fact generally someone who seizes the bull by the horns. It's how I became the number one engineering team lead at work, even though there were guys there more experienced and senior to me. I'd never felt meekness got me anywhere and no matter how I felt about Trish, I was still me.

I stepped forward and offered my hand to her guy. "Hi, Matthew. Justin."

He took my hand and gave it a firm shake. His gaze met mine—confident but not aggressive. "Ah. Heard a lot about you."

"All lies," I said with a laugh. I didn't look at Trish.

I moved aside so the other guys introduce themselves. While they did, I casually picked up my beer and moved to the other end of the table. Trish and Matthew took a seat where they were.

When I sat, Marty's wife Jan leaned towards me. "You all right?"

"Yep."

"We...none of us knew she'd be bringing anyone."

I smiled at her. "It's fine, Jan. Let's just enjoy ourselves, okay?"

She nodded but worry still clouded her eyes.

As I chatted with our friends, I tried to maintain an air of indifference to the source of my pain at the far end of the table. Matthew joined in the banter—a bit hesitantly at first but over time he grew more and more at ease with the group.

Trish herself smiled and laughed but her actions had an undercurrent of forcible joy to them, as though she was determined to put on a good face, one way or the other.

Despite my best attempts to ease it, tension hung in the air. Twenty minutes later, Brianne and Jillian announced they were headed to the restroom, dragging Trish with them. I had to snicker at that; Trish had demurred at first but Jill insisted, all but pulling Trish's arm from its socket.

When they were gone, a couple of the guys got up to start a new dart game. Jan and Tina went to order a new round, leaving me alone with Matthew. He stood and came to my end of the table.

I braced, wondering what was about to happen.

He sat. "Interesting evening."

"I have to apologize for my friends. They don't know how to handle this."

"Because of you and Trish?"

"I don't know what she told you—"

"Just that you two used to be best friends and had a falling out."

I shrugged, though the words, 'used to be,' hung heavy in the air. I said, "That's about it."

He nodded and put both hands around his beer glass. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I hate to see old friends torn apart." There was no judgment in his tone.

I smiled. Despite everything, Matthew seemed like a decent guy. A visceral part of me wanted to hate him but I couldn't. "I know, and it sucks. But it is what it is." I downed the rest of my beer, fished a twenty out of my wallet and tossed it on the table. "I'm sorry this is making it awkward for everyone. I'm gonna bail. I don't want you and Trish to feel uncomfortable all night."

His eyes widened. "No, you don't need to do that. We can go."

"Nah, it's fine. You all have a good time. Our friends are awesome and if you keep dating Trish, you'll see them a lot more so we all may as well get used to this."

I stood and offered him my hand. After a moment, Matthew rose and took it. He said, "Nice to meet you, Justin."

"Likewise."

I threaded through the tables towards the exit. I thought I heard Tina call my name from the bar but I wasn't sure. I got in my car and drove, switching off my phone. I didn't turn it on again until the next day. I had a host of text messages from my friends, ranging in tone from angry to frustrated to regretful. Ben left me a voice message where he chewed me out for leaving without saying anything, which then morphed to concern and a plea to call him.

There was nothing from Trish. I wasn't surprised and realizing that I wasn't depressed me a little.

I banged out one group text, apologized for fleeing, and wished them a good week.

#

My mother is a strange person. She can be downright pessimistic sometimes but then turn around a drop a brief, upbeat homily, like, "God never closes a door without opening a window." I always found it particularly odd but after that Monday, I had to admit dear old Mom had a point.

The weekend sucked and I was happy to get back to work where I could get my mind on something else. After the normal Monday morning rigamarole that gave us our expected schedule for the week, my boss Walt asked me to come to his office. I wasn't nervous, as he often asked when he wanted to pick my brain about some project. I figured that's what he was on about, so I was caught totally off guard.

As soon as we were seated, Walt said, "Justin, I won't waste time. The company was awarded a rather large contract with CENTCOM, the United States Central Command. That's the organization in the military that handles all combat operations in the middle east."

I nodded.

"This also gives a foot in the door at the US Special Operations Command, who has expressed interest in one of our product lines. "

"Seems like good news."

Walt smiled. "It's great news. Between the two commitments, this could be an eight-figure contract before it's over. CENTCOM alone is talking at least ten years."

"Awesome."

"Now here's the best news." He laced his fingers, leaned forward, and placed his hands on his desk. "Both CENTCOM and SOCOM are headquartered at McDill Air Force Base, outside Tampa. The company is opening an office down there in a few weeks to coordinate the new contracts. Barry Johnson is going down there as the site manager. He wants you to come as his senior engineer."

I blinked. "Sir?"

"I know you're young but everyone upstairs agrees you're the man for the job." Walt reclined in his seat. "This will mean a raise and it will put you on the inside track for the senior engineer here at the main office. You didn't hear this from me but Kurt Simmons plans on retiring in about two years when his last kid finishes college. The big boss is already looking at you to replace him. If I were in your shoes, I'd plan for a two or three-year stint in Tampa, followed by a move back here."

My head swam. That meant by thirty, I'd be in a senior position most of my colleagues wouldn't achieve until they were in their late forties. It was an incredible opportunity. But I'd lived in the Atlanta area all my life. Could I leave my folks, my friends?

Could I leave Trish?

Walt must have sensed my indecision. He said, "Look, I know it's a lot to take in. We don't have to know anything until the end of the week, so take a few days to think it over. We always have options but you're the man we really want for the job."

My mouth pressed into a thin line. It was flattering to be wanted but there was an implied threat there as well. If I rejected the job, they wouldn't fire me or anything. But I'd probably never get another opportunity like it again. My fast-track career would be permanently derailed.

I thought of Trish and sighed. Why would I stay around? It didn't seem like there was anything there worth saving.

Squaring my shoulders, I said, "No, Sir. I don't need to think about it all. I'm your guy."

We stood and shook hands.

Telling my folks was hard. My mother cried a little but they knew it was an incredible opportunity for me and they were heartened by the fact that I would likely be back within a few years. Mom made all kinds of plans to come visit. Dad slapped me on the shoulder and told me he was proud of me.

I broke the news to my friends piecemeal, just to avoid being bombarded by questions all at once. They were both excited for me and sad to see me go. We had emails, texts, and social media to keep in touch but it wouldn't the same. I asked all of them to keep it from Trish.

Jan was indignant. "She's your best friend. You're just going to leave without saying a word to her?"

"No, Jan. I'm going to tell her. But I want it to come from me, not someone else. I promise, I won't leave without letting her know."

Jan glared at me a moment before her scowl eased. Her voice softened. "Justin, what happened to you two?"

I couldn't tell her so I just said, "A falling out."

"But you've been friends for years. Decades."

"I know, Jan, but it's complicated. I wish I could explain it. Feelings got hurt and sometimes that takes a long time to get over."

"Are you still in love with her?"

I snapped my head towards her. "What are you talking about?"

Her smile was gentle as a spring rain. "Relax. It's not common knowledge. Only Tina and I figured it out."

"You're full of shit," I muttered, though I averted my eyes.

"It's okay, Justin. I see the way you look at her. It used to make you so happy just to be in the same room as Trish. Same as when she used to talk about you. She never talks about Matthew the same way."