Let Us Eat Cake (5 page)

He flinched. “Well, if you really want to know, I have been terribly busy with my boring job. Besides, things didn’t end well last time.”

“Is your ex crazy?” I asked, trying to get him to laugh.

He looked at me with a serious expression. “No, actually.”

“She broke your heart and made you lose faith in love?”

“No.” He shook his head. Then he took my hand in his. “She passed away.”

“What? I’m so sorry,” I said. I held onto his hand and caressed the side of it with my thumb.

“It was painful. Debilitating. Cancer, actually.”

“But, I mean, wasn’t she kind of young?”

Ack! Foot in mouth!

“Yeah. Only twenty-four when she finally passed, though she’d struggled for years.”

“Oh my God.” This was just not the kind of first date talk I had been imagining all week. “Are you okay? I mean, I don’t know how you would ever recover from something like that.”

Silently, I berated myself for my earlier insecurities that had put me at the center of everything. It had never occurred to me that Jeff had a past like this. I had assumed it had been smooth sailing and it was awful to realize how shallow that was of me.

“Slowly, I guess. It helped to throw myself into work, get rid of everything we ever owned together and start over with all new stuff, new apartment, new part of town.”

He sipped some water and for a moment he looked away.

“That explains why everything at your place is so modern and fashionable,” I said. I regretted my words instantly, feeling that they were insensitive, but Jeff didn’t seem bothered.

“It is helpful to let go of the old and usher in the new. It’s like breathing. But she and I were not at a point where we were madly in love. You might not understand or respect what I’m about to say, but…” His voice cracked. I could tell he was self-conscious, so I stroked the back of his hand.

He continued, “We were together for about six years and her illness took up the entire last half of our relationship. The night she told me what the doctor said was the very night I’d planned to end it with her.”

Even though it wasn’t my story, this was the part that cut like a knife through my heart. The pain of it seemed unreal. Jeff trembled ever so slightly as he told me.

“Oh my God. How horrible.”

“It wasn’t all bad. There are some moments in life when I think you get to see yourself truly, faults and all. That night was one for me. I wanted to run—to get away from that kind of responsibility—but she didn’t have anyone else. No family. Nothing. Just me.”

“So you stayed.”

He nodded. “What else could I do?”

What a man.
I was so impressed.

“A lot of guys wouldn’t have.”

“I’m not like a lot of guys,” he said.

“So I see.”

Our nosh plates arrived, as did the wine. We feasted on nibbles of artisan sausage, cheese, olives, hummus and flat bread. Getting to know Jeff all over again was easy. He didn’t shy away from divulging and that made me inherently trust him. The rest of the evening was casual and easy like sitting around a campfire with him so many years ago.

The bill came and I offered to split it.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Jeff said, snatching the small black lacquer holder.

“What if I get the tip?” I asked. In truth, that was about all I could afford.

“Forget it.”

He helped me put my parka back on. I was bulky and clumsy amid the delicate tables and it terrified me to think of knocking over one of the hip Mason jars or bumping into one of the clear dimly lit bulbs suspended from the beams overhead, but I managed to make it out unscathed.

Chapter Five

On our way back to the car, in the parking garage elevator, something came over me. I leaned into him and kissed him. Before I knew it, his back was against the wall and I was the one in control, the one with the power. I ran my hand down his muscular core, admiring his strong chest. Then I dropped my hand farther and fondled his package. Though he was wearing jeans, his biology betrayed him. He hardened beneath the denim material and my hand was on fire with his heat.

“Mmm,” Jeff whispered. “Let’s get you back to my place.”

“Why wait?” I asked.

Our eyes met. His were full of questions, to which I had no answer. Something inexplicable came over me and I pushed the emergency stop button. I knelt in front of him, unzipping his pants.

“Oh my God,” he said. “What are you…?”

Before he could finish his question, I had his dick in my mouth. I’d never done anything like this before, but something told me it was welcome and that he would still respect me. Maybe it was the connection I was so confident in over dinner, but I wanted to show him in non-verbal language how much I had come to trust him. Between my lips, his dick grew to a formidable length and girth. It had been a while since I’d done this sort of thing and I was unaccustomed to the sheer magnitude of Jeff. I grabbed onto the backs of his legs for support and he stroked my head. When I could tell that he was near the finish line, I looked up at him. Our eyes met and he moaned. He called out the name of the lord once more, and thrust his hips forward, filling me with his warmth. I took every drop from him as though it were an offering, a sign that he too had something to tell me that was greater than words were capable of communicating.

I stood back up again, my legs a little stiff from having been in the same position for a while. He held me tight until the tingling in my thighs abated. He stroked my cheek and kissed me.

“You’re incredible,” he said.

I smiled. “I know.”

He disengaged the emergency button, then hit the button that said P1 and the elevator continued its downward descent. When the doors slid apart, a disgruntled elderly couple eyed us and asked if we knew why the elevator took so long.

“It stalled for some reason,” Jeff explained.

“These things happen,” I said, corroborating the story. We shuffled by them and I hoped that the elevator did not give us away.

In Jeff’s car, I did up my seatbelt then turned to him.

Oh no!

“You don’t suppose there were cameras in there, do you?”

“In the elevator?” he asked. “Well, sure, why wouldn’t there be?”

Involuntarily, I covered my mouth. I blushed. It had not occurred to me at the time. I was not exactly thinking with my brain.

When we pulled up to the parking attendant, I had my answer. The man who took Jeff’s ticket was smiling from ear to ear. It was clear from his slight redness that we had crossed his line of propriety as well.

“Good evening,” he said. “I trust you’re having a good night.”

I sucked my lower lip into my mouth. Jeff passed him some money and said, “Sure am.”

The attendant crouched down in his seat to look over to me. “Have a pleasant evening, miss.”

“Uh, thanks. I will.”

Oh God!

I’d never been so exposed. I would have thought I’d be mortified, that it would be the end of the world. Instead, when the beam lifted up to let us out of the garage, we drove into the night and laughed.

“You made his week, you know that?” Jeff said. “Maybe his year.”

I chuckled again, a deep Bette Davis type of laugh, and told him this kind of thing was new to me.

“What have I done to deserve it? And how do I keep you happy?”

“I guess it’s your honesty that impressed me,” I said.

“Not my overwhelming manliness?”

“That too.”

We drove through the old district and, looking out at the buildings, I had a chance to process what I’d just done. I was shocked at myself, but also proud. After years of dealing with shame around my sexuality, the subject of most of my poems, I was finally able to give a guy a blow job and not feel bad about it—on camera, no less.

Chapter Six

Back at Jeff’s place, we wasted no time. I had my parka off in seconds and several of the outer layers soon thereafter. Jeff kissed my bare shoulder. Beneath the floral dress, I had on a lace camisole that he seemed to approve of. He traced the length of the shoulder strap, sending shivers down my spine.

“Tea?”

“Sure.”

I sat down on his couch. Before long, his bookshelf caught my eye. That was the greatest clue to understanding him, I figured. He had some good stuff, too. There was David Foster Wallace and Toni Morrison and some books on grieving, which made sense, too.

When he came into the living room holding two steaming mugs of chai tea, the fragrance filled the room and the spices delighted my senses.

“What are you discovering about me?” he asked.

I realized I was seated in such a way that it was obvious I’d been perusing the collection of books on the shelf behind me.

“Oh, you know, just curious what you read.”

“Well, if you really want to know, you have to check the books on my nightstand. Living room books are usually carefully arranged.”

“So your decorator chose these?”

“No, I’ve read them,” he said. He grinned. “Just saying. It’s the bedroom books that are the dead giveaway as to a person’s taste.”

“Hmmm. Well, if you were to look at mine, you’d see something about the origin of hunter gatherer language.”

“Mmrrrow. Sexy.”

I laughed.

He put the mugs down and sat beside me. “I’m sure that’s not all.”

I thought about it. “My journal.”

“Ahh. The best indicator of all.”

“Is it? What do you think it says about me, pray tell?”

“That you’re figuring it out. You’re trying to, anyway.”

I was naked in front of him. No guy had ever talked to me the way Jeff did.

“Where have you been all these years?” I asked, incredulous.

“The frozen foods aisle.”

“No, but seriously.”

“I don’t know. I find myself wondering the same thing about you.”

He leaned in and kissed me. “You really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“No, it’s hyperbole. You have no doubt met more beautiful girls. Like, there’s no way you haven’t, so don’t lie.”

“Beauty is—”

“If you say that it’s in the eye of the beholder, I will punch you for being so cliché. That’s bullshit.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to quote Keats.”

“Oh. Carry on then.”

“Beauty is truth. You, Rachel, are truth—and that is beautiful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like how you do what you want. You’ve always done what you wanted.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess.”

I certainly had in the elevator, but that was unusual for me. There was no point in telling him that I was ordinarily quite reserved. Either he’d believe me and that’d force me into a box that no longer seemed to fit, or he wouldn’t believe me but he’d know what box I assigned myself to. This being a new relationship, I thought it best to let us discover each other without our own self-imposed definitions. It did, after all, take two people to create any dynamic. He was as responsible for the elevator incident as I was.

“I find it really easy to be around you,” I said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, taking the mug into his hands. He blew off the steam and took a sip. “I think most girls are freaked out by me.”

“Most girls? I knew there were girls.”

“There are always girls, Rachel. It doesn’t mean I’ve been serious with anyone. Why do you keep trying to catch me in a lie?”

“I’ve been cheated on. There, I said it. Now you know.”

Not that it came as some sort of news flash that men could be jerks, but admitting that it had happened to me was still painful. I never wanted to be the girl that happened to. It was way too easy to feel damaged or like I had some kind of sign on my forehead that announced I had issues.

“Oh.” He put down the tea and took my hands in his. “I’m not that kind of guy, Rachel.”

“I want to believe you.” But I had also believed that the cheater would be faithful. Beliefs were fallible.

“I don’t expect you to right away, but I hope you don’t compare me to whatever asshole it was who treated you like that.”

“I won’t,” I said. Then I realized he’d just quoted Keats and said I was truth. No more hiding, I guessed. “That’s a lie. I probably will. But I’ll try to catch myself before I freak out. So anyway, the girls you were talking about…”

“Nothing really. It’s just that…”

He lifted my hand up to his mouth and held his lips to my skin. I wondered if he was trying to stall and collect his thoughts.

He continued. “You know the stuff we started talking about last time?”

I nodded.

“I find that very few people are really open-minded when it comes to their own sexuality. Most of us have this kind of attachment to coolness. We all want to be a hell of a lot more radical than we actually are. But only a select few are really kind of different.”

“And you are one of them?”

He nodded.

“Well, like… What are you into? Harnesses and pony rides? Leather collars and whips and chains?” I was trying to be as ludicrous as possible. It seemed that he was just being insecure about some aspect of himself he likely didn’t need to worry about. Everyone thinks their own kinks are weirder than everyone else’s.

“Well, yeah… Sort of,” he said looking down.

I was not expecting that. “Seriously?”

“Well, not exactly what you said, but I’m definitely imaginative and I’m tired of pretending that’s not the case. I’m looking for someone on the same wavelength.”

“And you think I am?” I said, sounding desperately academic.

“I’m hopeful.”

I pursed my lips. “I should probably tell you sooner rather than later that I’ve been forced in the past, and I’m not into it.”

It was the same guy who ran around on me behind my back. He was not exactly a prize. I had been so naïve in putting up with him. I’d also learned. All around me, it felt like the walls were coming up.

“Who’s talking about force?”

“Hello? Collars? Whips?”

“Rachel, please hear this. I have no desire to do anything non-consensual. Like,
none
. I would never ever want to put you in a situation you didn’t like.”