Chapter One - Emma

He kissed my collarbone, as my breath caught in my throat.  His lips traced their way back to my lips, by way of my neck, as his hands were dancing on my body.  I smiled, as I heard him catch his breath. 

“Emma…”

“Jackson…”

“Tonight…?”

I wanted to.  My body wanted to.  Eighteen months after my marriage ended, I’d been close so many times.  I needed to.  I wanted to, but I just couldn’t. 

“No, Jacks-, oooohhh…. you know I can’t resist….” I tried to pull away as he tugged my red dress and black lace bra down, kissing the valley between my breasts.

“Bella said she wouldn’t be back until the morning, tailing some cheating, soon-to-be-ex-husband….”

They were the wrong words.  The two of us had this gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.  I snapped up, pulling my bra and dress up simultaneously.  “Emma….” Jackson began.

“No, not now, Jackson.”

“But Emma… “ he continued, as I got up off the couch and went to the kitchen, where dinner was simmering on the back burner.

“Jackson, we can still have a lovely dinner.”

“And a PG movie and relationship.”

“Would you settle for PG-13?”

“What’s PG-13?”

“You’ve never seen Scream, Jackson?”  And I flashed him, as much as I could.

He came to me and kissed me, deeply.  My hands ran up to his beautiful curly dark brown locks, I had just trimmed that afternoon, and then, I saw a flash..


The next thing I knew, I woke up on the couch, with a wash cloth over my forehead and Jackson’s concerned brown eyes staring into my own. 

“What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, Emma.” 

“I saw flashes of something, black and white, just flashes.  I got cold.”

“And you fainted….”

“I fainted?”

“Yes, at least I think you fainted.  Is everything okay, Emma?”

“Yes, Jackson.  At least I think so.”

“Are you still up for dinner?”

“Sure.”

“You sit there, I’ll bring you a plate.”

“Thanks, Jacks.”

“No problem,” he said as he smiled. 

Resisting him was taking all of my strength, and I was beginning to pray for weakness.


My cell phone chirped with it’s standard wake up message the next morning at 8:30 a.m., as the sunshine streamed into my periwinkle room.  I tossed a white pillow aside, and reached for the body that should have been in the bed beside me. 

When Jackson wasn’t there, I realized I had once again chickened out.  I shook my head as I knew Bella was going to be disappointed.  Hell, I was disappointed.  I pulled the pink blanket over my head for another fifteen minutes of a snoozefest, when there was a gingerly knock on the door.

“Go away, we don’t want any,” I said, as I turned on my side to avoid Bella walking in the door, anyway.

“I see Jackson didn’t stay over.  Again,” Bella’s tone was accusatory.

“He, uhm… had to get up early and so he left…. early.”  My brain didn’t function at this hour for clever little half truths to form.  Besides, I couldn’t lie to Bella, ever.  It was like she had this permanent lie detector affixed to her eyes, pointed directly at my heart.   I hadn’t exactly lied.  Jackson had a meeting at 8 a.m., so even if he had stayed over, he would have had to have left early.

“That’s why he planned a date with you?  That’s why you asked for the house to be empty?  Why even if I didn’t have a client, I would have had to make myself scarce?  So you and he could continue to have dinner and a movie, snuggle, and then, he could leave to go to his place and you could come up to this room to fall asleep?  ….Alone?”

“Sounds like a great plan to me.  In fact, sounds like a great relationship… without all that complicated other stuff to get in the way.”

“Em?  Are you listening to yourself?  Sex isn’t that ‘complicated other stuff’, sometimes that’s the best part.  Look, I don’t know what you did with Charlie, but I don’t think you are realizing your full potential on the sex front.”

“All right, Bella, so while we’re on the subject, how are things with you and Fitz?”

“They’re swimmingly…. well, look at the time, you’ll be late for your first appointment….”  Fitz would have to wait for a discussion later that night. 

8:45.  As much as I wanted to argue with Bella, she was right, as usual.

I went to the closet to survey the lack of clean clothes, and gradually pulled an outfit together. Black skirt, pink camisole, white cardigan.  Not bad for what was available, and more than acceptable for Saturday at my “office”, but not enough clothes to make it through the rest of the week.  “Laundry tonight, Bella?”

“Uhm. Sure,” she hesitated. 

“Just leave your hamper out for me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“I’d rather you take care of Jacks, but if you want to do my laundry, I’m not going to complain too loudly.”

“Leave me alone, I have to get ready...”


An hour and a half later, I was in my blue Mini Cooper, taking the fifteen minute leisurely drive to one of the best hair salons in the city, where I made my living with a clientele that came by appointment only.  In the seven years since becoming a stylist in my friend, Mitzy’s salon, I had honed a reputation of giving quality styles and steering clients to the best colour, cut, and shape for their faces. 

My reward for the hard days on my feet had been a “loving” husband, whom I’d put through law school and my more reliable Mini Cooper, which was one of the only assets I got to keep when I left the loving “husband”, who didn’t seem to like being alone in the evenings and wasn’t very often, especially when I was working, and didn’t seem to want to cook his own dinner, even. 

As I drove into the back parking lot, I ran into Mitzy, arriving at the same time.  Her real name was Michaela, but no one ever called her that.  I pulled myself out of the car, and into the sauna that was Houston in June. 

“Mitzy? A little late?”

“Em!  Hey girl!  I had Marissa open up.  I had a late night….”  The Cheshire grin was enough to let me know that lunch was sure to be filled with a sordid detailing of Mitzy’s sex life.  Mitzy had the kind of wild life that only Samantha from Sex and the City dreamed of.  I blushed just thinking of her latest tales, and quieted her, as we walked into the back office.  I knew that Mrs. Maple would be waiting for me, and that Mitzy also had the kind of voice that carried throughout the whole office at the worst time.  Since Mrs. Maple was married to the Reverend Maple, and was rather reserved, I tried to keep the gossip in the office light, when she was there.  It was also why, every Saturday, I made sure Mrs. Maple was the first appointment in the morning.

I walked up to the front reception area, and sure enough, there was Mrs. Maple, in her prim pink hat, and grey silk suit.  She was always tastefully dressed, but this afternoon, she had a fundraiser to attend.  She glanced at her watch, as I walked past, to gather some supplies for later in the day.  Marissa glanced up from her “reading” to give me one of her patented glares.  “It would be nice if one of you was on time, what with Charles stopping by, and all, this morning.”

Bulls-eye.  She wasn’t even trying.  Or was she?  I glared back into her light blue eyes.  Marissa always wore way too much eye-liner and mascara.  That her hair was dyed a black so dark it was nearly blue, just made her seem that much more evil.  Neither the make-up nor the hair could hide the sixty pounds of weight she had slowly put on in the seven years I had known her, the last five of which she was supposed to be finishing her degree or finishing school to be a hair stylist, or colourist, or whatever it was this month.  I finally found my voice, “Charles stopped by?”

She grinned the same Cheshire grin that Mitzy had given me, though for far different reasons.  Marissa was Mitzy’s cousin and the job to Marissa had been a penance for borrowing money from the family to pay for her own salon.  They looked almost nothing alike, but they shared that Cheshire grin… Mitzy when she bragged about a sexual conquest, Marissa, when she had something to hold over anyone. 

Mrs. Maple cleared her throat to remind me she was still there.

“Yes,” she said triumphantly.  “He said he would return later this afternoon.”

“When he comes back, would you kindly remind him that he must call first?”

“Do it yourself, I don’t work for you,” she said, haughtily. 

I closed my eyes.  Another flash.  Too quick to see what happened. 

Mitzy came running in from the back, Mrs. Maple was off her chair, and the two of them were holding me up, when I came to, and found my footing. “Thank you,” I said, “I’m fine.  Mrs. Maple, isn’t it about time we got to the business of making you beautiful for that fabulous fundraiser this afternoon….”

It wasn’t a request.  I knew how to handle Mrs. Maple, and within minutes, her hair was shampooed, conditioned, and she was sitting in my chair, telling me all of the church gossip while I worked my magic.


Saturdays at La Bella Violet, the hair salon in which I worked were often busy.  They were also by appointment only.   Walk-ins were only allowed Monday through Friday, with no exceptions. 

For that reason, Saturday afternoon between two and three, Mitzy and I escaped to a quiet afternoon lunch at the hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant down the street.  It was a quiet relaxation before finishing off one of the more demanding days.  We often enjoyed one drink each, but no more. 

“So, tell, tell…” Mitzy was antsy with anticipation.

“He left by midnight,” I said, barely meeting her disappointed eyes as I took a sip of my martini. 

“NO!!  Emma!”

I could tell, she already knew I chickened out. 

“He had an early morning meeting… a last minute meeting.  You know how demanding Jackson’s schedule can be.”

“Yes.  Being Chief of Staff to the Mayor has got to be time consuming and very tiring.  However, I’m sure he would have much rather been late to that meeting with a not-so-great excuse, while wearing the same suit from yesterday.”

“Mitzy!”  I feigned shock, but knew she was seriously capable of much worse innuendo. 

“So, are you going to see him tonight?”

“No.  He has a boring fundraiser to work through.”

“And… you’re going to…”

“Do laundry, have a glass of wine and, hopefully pass out in front of the television while watching some movie.”

“On Saturday night?  Girl, you should come with me to this party I heard about.  It’s sure to be off the hook.”

Off the hook for Mitzy meant that there would be plenty of eligible bachelors with one thing on their minds.  Mitzy was the kind of woman that either shocked the status quo or women looked up to:  she had her own business and she loved sex.  Lots and lots of sex.  Any confidante of Mitzy’s would hear tales straight from soft core porn plots.  The thing was, most of the men wanted a relationship with Mitzy, but she was happy in her salon, happy with her alone time, and happy not being tied down.  The flirting, though, and the regular turnstile for her bedroom turned into many a client being referred to our salon, for a variety of reasons.   When her schedule was booked up, as it often was, many of us were gifted with the opportunity to make her referrals our own clients.  It actually was a smart business practice.   Yes, Mitzy was married to her salon, for all intents and purposes.

“I’d love to go to the party, Mitz, but I seriously need to do laundry.”

“Oh, bullshit.  You have two days off after tonight.  It’s just one party.”

“I promised Bella we would do it tonight, and I’m just not in the mood to party.”

“I get it, I get it… Jacks is the man for you.  But, if you don’t meet his needs, and soon, he may just stop thinking you’re the woman for him.”

She usually had a way of being brutally honest.  She was voicing my biggest fear in my relationship with Jackson. 

“Since we’re back on the topic of my sexual dysfunction… Marissa told me that Charles stopped by before we got there this morning.”

“NO!  I told her to call the cops if he showed up unannounced.”

“It’s fine.  Really.  But, she said he was going to stop by later this afternoon,”  I didn’t realize I was shaking until I picked up the empty martini glass.

“Do you want another?”

“No, I can’t.  Mrs. Schumer has a four o’clock appointment, and it takes all my concentration to get that colouring and cut just right.”

“Has it been a month, already?”  Mitzy asked as she rolled her eyes. 

Mrs. Schumer was the most persnickety client of the entire clientele.  She criticized every hand movement, every snip of the scissors.  I tried, valiantly, to pawn her off on every other stylist that walked in the door, often making it a test of whether or not they could go the distance in our little shop.  The good ones could usually last through the colouring, the others… well… let’s just say, more than once, I had been forced to clean stained colour prints off the back door.  Mrs. Schumer was that severe with her comments.  No one, though, could do her hair as good as I could, or so she claimed when making the appointment, and after an appointment full of a  barrage of insufferable insults. 

“Apparently.  So, Charles and Mrs. Schumer in one afternoon.  I don’t think I’d have the strength to take the paws off my backside at the party tonight.  I’ll be better off folding the laundry.”

“And one or two martinis down the hatch.”

“Exactly.”  Mitzy knew me all too well.

 

Reviews

[Emma]

Hmmm...I like it. Very well written, on top of an interesting plot. (I was searching my own name when it came up...;)) Hope to keep reading more.

[O. Ragnarok]

This is interesting. Beyond that, I loved it. Every last syllable went down like a good drink(sorry forthe poor analogy).

Moreover, it did something quite amazing: No cliffhanger, but I still want more. The second chapter is up, right? I think I may take a look.