Tangled Web (8 page)

Katie pushed against him. Johnny backed up a
few inches and, still facing him, she grabbed the waistband of his
jeans, tugging on them, indicating that he should follow her as she
turned her body away from the door. She smiled at him, still
shocked by how he looked. This man was not the Johnny she had ever
known. He was a man, a desirous, hungry man, and even when she’d
seen him with other women, she’d never seen his bedroom eyes, this
predator face that looked so foreign to her. He had never looked at
her
like this. It made her want him more.

She led Johnny to her bedroom, just off the
living room, so light shone in from there. She kicked off her
shoes, and Johnny bent over to pull off his boots. As soon as he
stood up, Katie slammed him up against the wall next to the
dresser, craning her neck to kiss him, her lips firm and
relentless. She imagined she felt his lips curl in a smirk as his
tongue responded and danced with hers. She moved her hand to his
jeans, her right palm rubbing him through the denim. His hands
moved to her back and unsnapped her bra just by feel. His hands
felt hot against her skin. He pulled the sides of her bra forward
so the straps slid down her shoulders, dropping off her breasts at
his gentle tug. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest, soft
hairs brushing them as he unbuttoned her jeans and then pressed
against her hips to ease her back to the bed.

He hovered over her, his tousled brown hair
framing his face, the ambient light from the other room allowing
Katie to see his expression. He had a devilish grin on his face,
and his eyes seemed to gleam. He held himself up with his left arm
and he lowered his head slightly, nibbling at her lip. She closed
her eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, and grabbed him around the neck
with both hands, her nails digging into his neck. He kissed her
again and then slid his right hand inside her jeans. He barely
moved his hand inside, over her panties, and she could feel her
entire nether regions throbbing, growing warmer and warmer, aching
for him to really touch her instead of just teasing her. Her eyes
fluttered as he felt where she was wet and she saw him smirk
again.

He took his hand out of her jeans and kissed
her once more, then moved to her breasts, brushing one with his
lips, then sucking on the nipple of the other. Katie felt the air
ease out of her lungs. Johnny raised himself up and looked at her
until she opened her eyes. Then, as if he were onstage, ready to do
his two-finger salute, Johnny held out the index and middle fingers
of his right hand in front of his face and instead of saluting,
held them up to his mouth and licked them, then thrust his fingers
inside her panties and slid them between her labia until he found
her clitoris. She gasped. “Oh, my God,” she uttered, her vocal
chords exposing the raw animal caged inside her, and sucked in
another quick gasp of air. Johnny’s lips were back on her neck,
moving down to her cleavage again. He then kissed and suckled her
nipple as he masterfully moved his fingers to a rhythm that only he
could hear. Her body, though, soon matched his rhythm and her
breathing quickened and deepened, coming in short waves until soon,
she climaxed and sang a cacophony of moans in one long chorus.

Afterward, she opened her eyes, feeling
spent yet new, and she saw Johnny pulling the chain that hung off
his belt buckle attached to the wallet in his back pocket. He
opened it and pulled out a condom. He brought the thin wrapper up
to his lips and bit its edge, pulling it with his hand to rip the
package open. He covered his penis with it in one quick motion and
then looked down on her, his brows pulled together, his eyes still
glinting.

He lowered his head to her left breast and
kissed it. She felt her nipples harden again at his attention. Then
he smiled his cockeyed smirk again, licked his right thumb, and
said, “I’m not done with you yet.” He entered her and his thumb
rubbed her clitoris again, sending her into new spasms of pleasure.
She experienced one wave after another, and then he moved his hand
to the back of her neck to pull her head up to his face. Her
fingernails dug into his back as she writhed in pleasure again, and
it wasn’t long before Johnny climaxed too.

He rested his head next to hers as their
breathing slowed. He lifted his head again, his smoldering blue
eyes gleaming in the soft glow. He smiled at her after she opened
her eyes, and she smiled back.

But she didn’t want to talk about it. She
felt really good on so many levels, but the guilt began coursing
through her veins more heavily with each passing moment. Should she
tell Johnny about Grant? Should she tell Grant about Johnny? Why
had she done it? And how could she have resisted anyway? She
couldn’t say anything right now, even though the glow was already
wearing off. Johnny looked too damned happy, and she didn’t want to
wreck it.

Johnny rolled over on his back and pulled
the condom off. He stood up and looked around the room until he
found the wastebasket next to the end table and tossed it in. He
sat on the edge of the bed to pull his jeans, shorts, and socks the
rest of the way off and then pulled the covers down. He crawled
back into bed and rested his head on a pillow. Without saying a
word, he patted the bed next to him, and Katie crawled up beside
him, pulling her jeans and panties the rest of the way off, letting
them drop to the floor. She slid backward toward the middle of the
bed, unable to face Johnny right now, so she continued wiggling
backward, her back at last resting against his chest, and she let
him hold her until he fell asleep, his breathing slow and
rhythmic.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t as lucky as he was
and lay awake long after he had drifted into a deep, dream-filled
sleep, listening to but not really hearing the rest of
Issues
and falling asleep somewhere near the end of
Godsmack’s
IV
CD.

She did fall asleep eventually, though, and
even though her sleep was riddled with dreams of being caught by
Grant while having sex with Johnny, she did at last drift into a
deep sleep until her alarm woke her up at its usual time--5:30. She
reached over and turned it off then on again so it was set for the
next day, like she did every morning. She took her time sitting up,
realizing that her head ached. In fact, it throbbed, matching the
beating of her heart. Why did she drink so much last night? She’d
known better, even while she was doing it.

She got up and went to the restroom, cupping
her hands with cool water and splashing her face. She couldn’t bear
to look at herself in the mirror. She may have given in to sleep
last night, but that hadn’t prevented the guilty thoughts from
racing through her head all night long, and when the feelings of
shame couldn’t penetrate her conscious mind, they filtered through
her subconscious. Now, though, she found it hard to avoid eye
contact while she pulled her hair in a ponytail. She might feel
like shit, but she was still going for her morning jog. It might
sweat out what hangover was left and then maybe she could think
straight. If jogging made her feel worse, she’d cut it short. She
still avoided eye contact with herself, though, as much as
possible. No way could she face her own eyes right now. Those
guilty, guilty eyes...

She went back in the bedroom and opened a
drawer, pulling out a pair of fresh panties. As she slid them up
her legs, her thoughts drifted back to last night. God, Johnny had
played her just like one of his guitars. He was a maestro. She
couldn’t remember a time that she had orgasmed so easily, let alone
twice in such a short time. And just thinking about it made her
feel giddy and guilty at the same time. There was no way to undo
any of it. She didn’t know that she wanted to.

“Christ,” Johnny muttered from the bed, half
his mouth muffled by the pillow. “I had no idea you had such a
smokin’ hot body.”

She hadn’t even known he was awake, and she
felt startled. She inhaled, taking her time sucking the air into
her lungs. What the hell could she--should she--say to that? If she
hadn’t been so wracked with guilt, she might have taken that as a
compliment. Instead, she just wanted to bury her head in the
drawer. And she felt so...naked. It didn’t matter that he’d seen
and felt all of her last night. She spied her bra on the floor
beside the dresser and snatched it up.

She wasn’t sure how to handle this situation
yet. She would have to say something in response to Johnny. She
just didn’t know how or what. And at some point she’d have to tell
him everything, whether she wanted to or not. She knew her morning
run would clear her head. She’d be able to spend the time running
figuring out what to say, how to say it.

And how would normal Katie respond to
something like Johnny’s comment? She just couldn’t think. Would she
tease him and make a joke about what a slut he was? Would she be
shy and embarrassed that he pointed out his newfound admiration of
her body? Would she be proud that he noticed the hard work she’d
put into it? Would she compliment him on his body too? She was
clueless as to how she’d respond if she hadn’t had to deal with
this new albatross. It would be best to just let him know right now
that she was not at the top of her game, that the drinking last
night was taking its toll, and just leave it at that.

She looked over at him. “Thanks, I think.”
She sighed. “Sorry. My head is throbbing. I don’t usually drink
like that.” She got into the bra, feeling like Eve, hiding behind
the bushes, hoping she could hide her crime.

He grinned and rubbed his forehead. “That
was my fault, I’m afraid. Why don’t you come back here and curl up
so I can make you all better?”

She mustered a smile. “I can’t. I have to
get ready for work. And I jog most mornings, so I’m going to run a
mile or two before my shower. I’m hoping that’ll help.”

He feigned a shudder. “Crazy. I don’t know
how jogging could help anything. Guess I’ll keep the bed warm for
you then.” He sat up slightly, running his fingers through his
hair. She continued dressing, sliding on a pair of pink jogging
pants and jacket. She stared at Johnny’s tattoo sleeve through the
dresser mirror--it was a mishmash of color and design--greens,
reds, blacks, and blues, one design blending into the next, his arm
a canvas for an enthusiastic and expert artist. Grant had been in
that spot on the bed just three days ago, almost in that very
position, delivering an insipid monologue about how they needed to
spend their Saturday in Denver at Pier 1 looking at furniture.

She forced herself to look away and slipped
a pair of socks on before grabbing her running shoes from the
closet. Johnny said, “It’s kind of weird, huh?” Katie’s back was to
him, and, after a moment, she just nodded. He kept talking. “I
mean, we’ve known each other for how friggin’ long? More than
twenty years? And we never did anything like this? Never even
tried.” Katie laced her shoes, her silence feeling leaden. Maybe
they’d never actually done the deed, but he had no idea how much
she’d thought about it over the years. Johnny shook his head.
“Sorry. You’re not ready to talk about it. I keep forgetting. I’m
used to drinking like that. I didn’t mean to get you so hammered
you felt like crap.”

She stood up, adjusting her socks to avoid
looking in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I knew better.” She
started to leave and then realized she was being rude, even though
all she’d wanted to do was avoid conversation until she’d had time
to think--
really
think. She turned around. “Hey, um, feel
free to help yourself to anything in the fridge, or you can shower
if you want, or--”

“I think I’ll be snoozing a little longer if
it’s okay with you.”

She nodded. “All right. See you soon.”

She hurried out of the bedroom and saw Sam
sitting on the couch, looking angry. She walked over to him and
scratched under his neck. She whispered to him, “I never said you
couldn’t curl up in bed with me last night, grumpy.” She didn’t say
it out loud, but she wanted to tell him that he curled up with her
all the time when Grant was there. Of course, sex with Grant was
contained, safe, and predictable, and Sam had months ago accepted
Grant’s presence, so maybe he felt more secure with him. Katie
rubbed the top of his head. “C’mon.” She filled up his food bowl
and got him some fresh water, then ruffled his head one more time.
She pulled her water bottle out of the fridge. Then she grabbed her
jogging key that hung on a blue lanyard from behind the door and
began trotting down the street.

* * *

Running was a bad idea, and she discovered
that less than half a block after starting. Every time her shoe hit
the sidewalk, a fresh new jolt of pain pounded in her forehead. She
kept pushing herself, believing that it would get easier after a
while. But after jogging half a mile, she turned around and walked
back. She was dripping with sweat, probably a good sign, she
thought, but her stomach felt queasy, her mouth dry in spite of the
water she’d been sipping, and her head felt like it was clamped
under the tire of a monster truck. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but
the air felt like the Mojave. She hoped she was sweating out the
alcohol and pain, but she had her doubts. Work was going to suck
today no matter what, though, and it was all her fault. She was
grateful she’d finished up all the miscellaneous case notes she’d
needed to data enter yesterday, because she doubted her mental
acuity today.

Worse, though, was that she hadn’t been able
to think at all. She hurt so badly that she couldn’t concentrate on
her problem. As she walked the last two blocks to her house, she
thought maybe she should ask Johnny to come back to her house
tonight so they could talk. She should have a clearer head by then.
Even if, later on in the day, she still felt crappy, the deed at
least wouldn’t be fresh. Time would give her an advantage, even if
she didn’t think about anything on a conscious level. Grant wasn’t
due back in town until tomorrow, so that would give her some time
to sort out the sudden mess that her life had become.