Swim, Butterfly Ch. 04

Ripple

A sharp ray of early morning sunlight streams through the window and stabs my eyes. My crampy eyelids, reluctant to open, eventually do. I remember well where I am, how I got here and what I did. Jimmy slumbers by my side, even snoring softly. I want to stroke his face, but I don't want to wake him.

In the morning light, I notice faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. I'd like to fuck him again, but I have to pee, so I peel the blanket back and slip out of the bed. I glance at the kitchen table and chairs, as if Pete may sit there. Ridiculous! Yeah, I know, but...

I peer around the bathroom door before entering, then leave the door ajar. The small bathroom is immaculate like the rest of the apartment, without stacks of books. The cold floor soothes my feet. Other parts of my body are sore, but in a good way.

I take my time in the bathroom, hugging myself to ward off the chill and to keep calm, taking deep breaths, trying to reconcile myself with last night's experience and today's reality. It's amazing how clear the air appears with the haze of booze and weariness banished.

Jimmy rustles about and I imagine him getting out of bed, padding barefoot to the kitchen. I hear him say, "Shhhew... shit!" He seems to have stopped by the stove. I hear a click. He walks around, then all goes quiet. Does he remember me?

My heart stops a beat when he suddenly swings the bathroom door open, "Dobroyo utro. Good morning," he smiles, looking down at me in my compromising position.

I smile at him, "Uh, yeah," tightening my arms across my bare chest. He turns on the bathtub faucet, then stands facing me in all his glory, about a foot from my nose. He's got a smart ass grin on his face and his hands on his hips.

"So, how are you this morning?" he asks loudly.

"Oh, get out of here, you big goof!" I bark. I can't take this guy seriously.

He laughs, too, and leaves, "Get in the tub when you're done stinkin' up my bathroom," he calls over his shoulder.

"Will you join me?


"Ye'esss," he answers from the kitchen. "Let me brew the coffee first, and then I'll be in. What do you like in your coffee?"

"Nothing. I like it black."

"Ha, good! You had a little of that last night," he chuckles.

I listen to him knocking about in the kitchen for a few moments before finishing up. "Hey, Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I should learn some Russian?"

"Nyet."

"Warum nicht? Why not?" My little bit of German.

"Potomu chat ya tak skazak. Because I said so."

"You're no fun." I flush and wash my hands with a fresh bar of Ivory. 99.9% pure.

"Nyet, not first thing in the morning. Are you, mama?"

Mama. Whew. Can't erase the past. I shake my head, swallowing hard, watching the water twilling in the tub. The warm water heats the little bathroom and I loosen up. I still think about last night. Desire. Laughter. Bath first thing in the morning. I'll miss his sense of humor, and our conversations, and those magic, warm, icy evil eyes, and, of course, his cock. Oh, cut it out with the downer shit--not now.

Fuck, enjoy him while you can.

I blend the water with my hand, then step into the tub, the temperature just right. As the silky water moves around me, I wonder why a good-looking man possessed of a skilled touch with women would have no girlfriend. Public relations. Right. I swirl the water in patterns, watching the beauty of form and time in the curves disappear the moment I create them.

A rush of cool air curls through the bathroom as Jimmy pulls open the door with his foot, for he carries a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. His fingertips gingerly hold a chipped, rose-adorned teacup by the rim, and hands it to me. Bringing the cup beneath my nose, I inhale the burnt, nutty scent.

"I gave you the good cup," he winks, balancing his own mismatched pink teacup on the edge of the sink. "Really, I have nothing nicer. I told you I never entertain here."

"Then why do you have two cups?"

"Oh, just shut up, wise ass! Scooch forward."

I look at him over my shoulder, "I don't care about the cups, just as long as the coffee's good and the company's better."

"Mm hmm," he eases down behind me in the tub, then gently pulls me back into him. The water rises around us, enveloping us in warmth so soft on the skin. The coffee tastes good, and of course, I knew the company was even better. He rests his head against the back of mine. I run my fingers along his arm and in this better light, despite his otherwise fairness, I note the lightest hint of mocha in his skin, "Have you ever burned, like sunburn?"

"No, I just brown up. I'm pretty much a city boy, though, so I never spent much time in the sun."

"It's pretty."

"What is?"

"Your skin."

"Thank you," he strokes my knee with his thumb.

"Jimmy?"

"Mm?"

"Uh... oh, never mind."

"Mm hmm."

In his embrace, I feel like this building could collapse or a nuclear bomb drop on Manhattan, and we wouldn't budge. I imagine the floor beneath the tub giving way to the weight of two adults and all the water. We crash down into the eighth floor, crushing my husband and children's lives. We crash through the next floor, through my parents' lives. We crash down through the next floors, through lives of friends, acquaintances and strangers, crashing through all the floors until we hit the ground floor, and it all has to stop. Together we form a stone, setting off the first ripple, but like a stone, can we remain unchanged while our actions, my actions, affect so many other people?

I close my eyes. I don't want to think about it anymore, "How much time do I have left?"

"Pardon?" he asks, sounding sleepy.

"How much longer can I stay here before I have to go?"

"Stay forever if you want," he murmurs.

I suck in my breath. Did he really just say that? The romantic in me would like to believe it--laughing, great conversation, amazing sex--who wouldn't want that? I chuff, "Wow! Are you serious? Was I really that good in bed?"

"M'yeah, you got a good pussy, and a lot of potential. And I'm not convinced you know what the hell you're doing with your life. Crazy, like me, so why not?" He takes a deep breath, "Anyways, checkout's at eleven at the Alton. You'll need to get to your hotel in time to pack. You need to get back there from here, about a forty-minute walk, or an hour since you're probably pretty sore and banged up," he growls in my ear, "or take a cab. Ten minutes. So, I'd say you got about an hour, and you just spent the last thirty seconds worrying about it."

I sigh. I'm a mom. I always worry. A tear trickles down, hesitating at the end of my chin before taking its death leap. Jimmy shuts off the water with his foot, so the trill can't mask my sniffling. He says nothing, but holds me a tighter, his hand brushing over my hair. I shudder and a sigh escapes me. I turn in the tub to see his face and kiss him. His wet hands take my face and he kisses me back. He musters a smile and rinses my tears away with a handful of water. Bath water and salty tears trickle into my mouth as he kisses me again. I feel so sloppy, all spit and tears and snot and water. If I don't stop crying, I'm going to fill the tub with tears.

"I make you cry a lot," he smiles, between kisses. "I didn't know I was such a lousy date."

I laugh, nearly choking, "No! This is not a date. People plan dates, they have expectations. This dropped out of the sky." Or erupted from deep below, a creature spawned from freedom, whimsy, joy, lust, taboo, and recklessness. "But yes, you would have been a terrible date. You didn't plan anything, you buy me fries for dinner, and I'm not even single, for cryin' out loud!"

He leans back, "Yeah, there's that detail, which was your choice. The others I can fix." He strokes the side of my face one last time, then reaches for a washcloth. "Move up a little." He dips the cloth into the warm water and rubs it up and down one side of my neck, then the other. He hums a tune while the washcloth works its way over my shoulders, down my arms, across my back. I feel as if I have no legs, just a half-person floating in the water.

"Kids got school Monday?" he asks.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, now?"

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Here, turn around."

It's a tight fit, but I turn and sit facing him, his legs on either side of me, mine on either side of his waist. Scooching closer, my knees rise higher. I peek at his generosity, biting my lip and looking at him. I want him again. He looks at me and shakes his head, "Sorry, I can't. I would if I could, but I have plans at ten."

"At ten?"

He grins, "Tenpm, not am. You can caress me, though, gently, if you wish."

I stroke him lightly with the back of my fingers, engrossed as he slowly hardens. Jimmy knocks the plug out of the tub with his foot, and as the water level falls, his erection rises. As soon as his head emerges above the water's surface, I move back, then go down on him, keeping my tongue soft. Jimmy moans, lying back in the tub. As the water recedes, he rises. I caress him with a gentle tongue, working down the underside of his smooth shaft until I meet the water's edge, then back up again, showering the tip with affection until the water recedes and then back down again I go. Jimmy moves and squirms, stiffening his back, then relaxing. "I'm trying to keep still, I promise," he gasps, "but jeez!" Guess all those years of practice keeping Pete happy paid off.

I shimmy a hand out from between him and the bathtub and gingerly run my fingertips beneath his balls, making him jump.

"Ooo, sorry! I should have warned you."

"Oh, no, no, that feels good," he sighs, gripping the sides of the tub, and as the tub drains, I feel the weight of my body pulling down. I feel the fullness of his cock in my mouth as deeply as I can go. My jaw starts to ache, so I alternate caressing him with my lips and tongue, and tease his balls until they tighten up and he shudders. He's close. I gently take his head back in my mouth and stroke the shaft. I'm usually not a swallower, but I want his cum. He bucks a few times, shooting into the back of my throat, fast and furious. I suck and swallow, coaxing it all out. Jimmy's gasping, either in pain or delight or both. I swallow the last bit and lick the tip, just to finish him off.

"I wanted to give you something nice before I left, to thank you for your hospitality," I smile. With a shaky hand, he pulls me to his heaving chest. My belly lies against his spent privates, keeping them warm while they recuperate.

"Holy cow!" Jimmy lays his head back, catching his breath. "You're very good at that, thank you."

"You're welcome," I sigh, nestling into his chest. I know our time is almost up. Just one foot in front of the other. Almost time to go and be logical again, but I don't think Heart and Logic are going to get along for quite a while after this. Can they compromise?

"You didn't finish your coffee," Jimmy murmurs.

"I doubt you did, either. We didn't get the chance."

I reach for my coffee, sitting on the edge of the tub. It's cold, but still tastes good. I sit back into him again, wondering how this scene looks--a naked man and woman, drinking cold coffee in an empty bathtub. Frighteningly comfortable yet odd, as if we do this all the time. I realize that Pete and I never did anything like this.

I finish my coffee and gingerly place the cup back on the sink's edge. "Shit, I gotta' go."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

I pull a disheveled towel off of the rack. Clean, folded towels sit in a stack on the floor, but I want to wrap up in a towel I think he's touched recently. I dry my feet on the rose-colored bathroom rug, cross the cold kitchen floor, then hunt and peck for my clothing. A pen and small spiral-bound notebook lie on the kitchen table. I pause, then tear out a sheet of paper, write my phone number on it, fold it, and quickly tuck it under his pillow.

Just as I finish dressing, Jimmy emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He gathers me in his arms, swaying back and forth as if in a gentle breeze. "Thanks for staying over. I know it could mean a lot of trouble for you, but it was a lot of fun," his voice trails off in my ear.

"I know. I had a wonderful night. I'll never forget it." I murmur, my voice muffled in his chest. I needed that night. Should I tell him that?

He holds me close for a long time. This is it. I squeeze and release and squeeze my eyelids--no, not again! His arms slacken and let go. He watches me put on my sweater that was lying over the chair, and my shoes. Then I take a seat at the table and wait for Jimmy, taking his turn to dress. He puts on underwear, jeans, and a black hoodie, remains barefoot.

My stomach clenches as I ask him for directions back to my hotel. I don't want him to walk me back. I put the pen on the notebook and push it across the table towards him as he sits down. Jimmy blows a bit of air out between his lips. He looks at me briefly, smiles a little, and starts writing directions. The longer he writes, the slower he writes. At the end, he hesitates, then writes Alton, drawing a heavy line underneath. He rotates the notebook and pushes it across to me, then sits back, unblinking.

With arms and hands heavy like lead, I tear off the paper, one little hole at a time. Jimmy watches as the paper tears away, but I'm not sure if he's really seeing it, or if he's a million miles away. I fold the paper and put it in my pocket. We sit a minute longer at that little table, just looking at each other.

"Well, take care, Jimmy. Take good care of yourself." I can't muster any more words. I stand up, open the door, and leave.

***

Mist hangs in the air outside Jimmy's apartment, sticky and grabbing my shoulders, following me. I pull out the directions and look at them through burning eyes. One deep breath, now... one foot in front of the other. Hard to believe that I need to recall such a simple concept as walking. A gust of wind stirs old brown leaves and bits of trash about my feet and throws grit in my eyes, collaborating with the city to whip me during my Walk of Shame.

And so it should be, as I walk back to the Alton. With a secret. As if nothing happened.

***

I push my way around the revolving door into the stuffy lobby. A man with curly brown hair gesticulates at the desk clerk. The clerk looks my way and says something to the man, who turns with a terrible scowl on his face-- Pete! I lurch to a halt and someone bumps into me, "Uh, 'scuse me." I look. Two older boys with haggard eyes and goofy grins pass around me.

The scowling man with curly brown hair, not Pete, approaches the boys, "Where the fuck were you last night?"

"Just out on the town, Dad. Chill!" the one boy says. The other one snickers.

Near the elevators but out of sight of the front desk, I lean against the marble wall, recalling how to breath from yoga class and wait for my legs to stop shaking. Eventually, I gather myself and walk along the wall to the elevators, gliding my hand along the cool surface. I don't think anyone noticed me and honestly, no one here cares about what I do. So, why am I worried?

In the sanctuary of my room, I flick on the lamp by the side of the bed. My heart slows since the scare in the lobby. I feel stupid, my cheeks hot and dry. I check my phone. No messages, no texts.

The room feels so still.

My hand rests on the pocket of my dress, then I remove the contents and place them on the nightstand. I place Jimmy's handwritten directions to the hotel in an upper left quadrant, the room key beneath it, my leftover cash to the right of the room key.

The upper right quadrant remains empty. I place the lipstick in the empty spot, completing the picture of what Jimmy wouldn't tell me. I don't care, though. I like him. He's fun, funny, and I talked to him all night like it was nothing. I haven't talked that openly in years. Why didn't I meet him twenty years ago? Don't go there. I smirk. Twenty years ago, he was still in school.

I pick up the tube of lipstick, rolling it back and forth in my palm. I should throw it away, but then, why can't I keep a memento? It's just a tube of lipstick.