Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter to be ready! The DD posting schedule was interrupted by my Gift Exchange fic, which I managed to submit with a day to spare before the deadline. The fics will begin to be posted on LiveJournal as of January 18. If you have an LJ account you can sign up for notifications now at community dot livejournal dot com / twi_exchange / I don't know how I'll wait an entire month for the posting to begin!
We last saw Jack the evening after his first day at the new job. He was just about to call Jacey…
-o-
Jack
"Hello?"
He answers after the second ring. I know he has call display, and I also happen to know that he has a particular song programmed into his phone to play when it's me calling (though he has yet to tell me what it is). It amuses me that he always answers as though he has no idea who it is, his voice lilting upwards in a question. Perhaps he does it on purpose so that I'll have no choice but to say…
"Hey there, sweet boy."
"Jack!" he replies, happiness evident in his gentle voice. "How are you? How was your first day?"
"It was great," I grin and give him an abbreviated version of the details I gave my mom (I'm sure Jacey is less interested than Mom in the color of the tile in the 39th floor men's room). I cover the important stuff, though, ending with a grateful acknowledgment of the text he sent me mid-morning. "There were moments during the day when the information overload was a little overwhelming," I admitted, "but it was nice to know you were thinking about me. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replies. "I'm glad you called to tell me about it – I was wondering how things went."
"Well, I have to admit that you were actually the second person I called tonight, after my Mom." I'm feeling relaxed and light enough to tease a bit.
He chuckles. "Oh, don't apologize for calling your mom first. I live in the South, don't forget," he returns, before slipping into a deep Texas drawl. "'If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.'"
I laugh out loud at his affected accent, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. It sounds like a caricature of a Texas redneck. Jacey does, of course, have a bit of drawl, but it's a sexy, throaty sort of accent consisting of some elongated syllables and the addition of a mild "sh" sound where I only pronounce an "s". Honestly, I never found any southern accent very sexy till I met Jacey, but that extra half-second when he draws out my name – it does things to me.
He joins in my laughter, commenting when it dies down, "It's good to hear you laugh like that."
"It's been a while," I admit. "I mean, since I laughed out loud and really felt it. Probably since before the wedding. God…" I think back. "Maybe since we met here in January."
"Jesus, Jack," he says, "you're making my heart ache."
"Sorry," I apologize immediately. "I don't mean to be such a wet blanket."
"Well, it's not that - more that I worry about you. You seriously need to laugh more than once every few months," he suggests.
"Oh, I have big plans for laughing," I assure him and return to some levity. "I predict that about eleven days from now a warm front will sweep into Chicago, bringing sweet Texas winds, brilliant sunshine and raucous laughter."
"Ack," he groans. "I can't wait, and at the same time I know I have, like, four assignments due between now and then…"
"Shit, and I've kept you on the phone for half an hour. You should have told me to let you get back to work," I chide.
"No way. I don't get to talk to you that often – man can't live by text messages alone."
"No," I murmur. "No, he can't. Well, you work on your assignments and I'll do the 'can't wait'-ing for both of us, okay?"
He sighs. "At least having a ton of school stuff to do will keep me busy between now and next Friday."
"Would you rather I not call you while you're trying to get your stuff done?" I offer. I mean it in all seriousness but he scoffs.
"Pfft – no, I would not rather that," he returns quite decidedly. "In fact I'll be home and sitting by the telephone Sunday night…say around 6 pm?"
"It's a date, cowboy," I smile.
"Cowboy, huh? You know, I do have the hat."
"You do?" I try to picture beautiful, artistic Jacey in a cowboy hat, but as I've only ever seen him dressed for the city, I just can't draw the mental image.
"Yeah, I worked on a ranch near my house, summers when I was in high school. I still have the hat. Comes in handy for cowboy nights at the clubs." I can hear a smirk in his voice.
"I think you'd better bring that hat to Chicago when you visit," I tell him. When he laughs, I continue, "I'm being quite serious. I need to see this."
"That so," he says. "Well, I'll think about it."
Now he's just being mean. "Okay – back to work, youngling. I don't want to get a call from you next Thursday night telling me you can't visit because the dog ate your homework or something."
"Not a fucking chance." This time he's the one who's dead serious. "Nothing will keep me away. But I do need to get back to work. Have a good rest of the week, Jack. I'll talk to you Sunday."
"You can count on it," I promise. "Bye, sweet boy."
"Bye."
The line goes dead. I gaze off into space for a while and think about him. In my mind's eye I picture him flipping his phone shut, and maybe he's gazing off into space too, a faint smile gracing his sweet lips as he thinks about the call…and then I shake my head and return to the present. I set my cordless back into the charger and I'm heading to the kitchen for a glass of water when my cell phone chirps, alerting me to a text message. I wonder if it's Ashton, not really considering that it might be Jacey since we just hung up. I press a key on my cell to open up my messages, and there sits a photo message: an obvious self-portrait, featuring a shirtless Jacey. An impish grin is plastered on his face and an off-white straw cowboy hat with a slim black cord around it sits atop his head, tilted rakishly to one side. As always his brown hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders and something about the lighting has particularly caught his blue-grey eyes. In other words: dead fucking sexy.
I groan – even if my imagination hadn't failed me, there's no way I could have pictured something as good as this. I quickly text back, Was just on my way to bed. Won't be able to sleep NOW. Yeehaw, cowboy. :) JC
Less than thirty seconds after my message, the phone chirps again. Pleasant dreams, is his innocent reply. I grumble at my phone. Pleasant dreams, indeed. Wet dreams is more like it.
I grab a glass of water and head to bed. After stripping off all my clothes into the hamper I slip naked between the soft, smooth sheets. I grab my cell from the night table and thumb to Jacey's message again. My already half-hard cock twitches as I close my eyes and picture him standing in my bedroom wearing nothing but that hat. As alluring as the hat is, the thought of him being here is an even bigger turn-on. I stretch and roll onto my back, pushing the covers down past my hips so my upper body is exposed. I cup and stroke my balls, imagining Jacey's hands on me. When I take hold of my rigid shaft, it's Jacey, sinking down onto me, taking my length deep inside him. The image of him riding me, his lips parted as he pants heavily, finishes me. I explode, panting right along with my dream boy, covering my hand and stomach with jizz.
After my breathing returns to normal I clean up and slide back down under my covers. It's been a busy, tiring day, and especially after a fantastic orgasm thinking about Jacey, I am very quickly drifting off.
-o-
The rest of the week passes reasonably quickly. My days are spent at work, of course, and in the evenings I hit the gym after dinner. At work I now know the names of five people without having to stop and think about it; they're all the administrative assistants. I figure it pays to learn their names first since they'll be supporting me while I work here. I know other brokers who treat their support staff like crap – one actually told me once that his staff should be grateful that they get to work for someone who makes as much money as he does – but I have never, ever found merit in it. For one thing, I have a difficult time being a jerk to anyone, but especially the people upon whom I'm going to rely to make sure my paperwork is processed. We should all be treating our support staff like fucking gold.
The assistants I'll see on a daily basis are Amanda, Linda, Carrie, Jenna and Susan. Linda, Carrie and Susan have all been with the company for at least fifteen years; Amanda and Jenna are in their early twenties, but very energetic and friendly. My two main support people are Jenna and Susan. Numerous times through the week I sidle up to one of them and quietly ask them to remind me what so-and-so's name is, or to please help me change my outgoing message on the voicemail system. They help me through the week and by the end of it I'm calling the group The Fab Five. I show up Friday morning with a large bouquet of flowers to brighten their shared workspace. The reaction I get shows me I've just cemented my place in their good graces. After Andrew notices the flowers and asks where they came from, he sticks his head in my office door. "Nicely done, Jack," is all he says, but I know he shares my views on how to treat support staff.
The inevitable situation does arise, of course. In the lunch room, Linda asks if I'm married. "No, not married," I answer, which invites the next obvious question. I have to fight the urge to sigh – I'm not closeted in the least, but good grief, why do people think this is their business? "I'm sort of seeing someone, but it's a long-distance thing."
"Aw, really?" she says sympathetically.
"Yeah," I reply, and casually add, "He lives in Austin." I keep my eyes fixed on the bowl of split pea soup in front of me, but I swear I see a triumphant smile on Jenna's face in my peripheral vision. The verbal reaction is one of sympathy, a chorus of "awwws". I'm glad that's out of the way.
-o-
By Friday night I've come to a decision about something that's been bothering me, namely, Karl. I still don't know what the fuck happened last week when I was with him, but I know it was unacceptable to treat him that way. Whatever is going on in my own weird psyche should not result in me mistreating an innocent bystander. There's only one way I can think of to make it right – I have to find him and apologize.
Late Friday night I set off for Spin. I figure it's the best place to start, though I have other clubs in mind if he's not there.
In the club I check my coat and grab a couple of shots to steel my nerves before looking for him. Fortunately his fauxhawk makes him fairly easy to spot on the dance floor. I toss back my shots and slowly make my way across the dance floor. It's a girl shower contest night; once in a while feminine-sounding catcalls resound from that part of the bar. The floor is packed with boys – sexy, buff boys who don't hesitate to slide up against me as I pass. I recognize one or two of the faces as ones I saw last week. One boy, of whom I made particular note last week, smiles at me this time and I return his smile. Hmmm, I think, maybe I'll come back to that. Karl is only a few feet away now – he hasn't noticed me threading my way through the crowd. As soon as he does his entire face lights up.
"Jack!" he shouts and wraps his arms around my neck. I grin at his enthusiasm. It's clear he's feeling good tonight and I'm encouraged at his positive reaction to seeing me. Certainly he doesn't seem to hold a grudge.
"Hey Karl!" I shout over the throbbing bass, hugging him back.
"Dance with me," he insists, and I do for a couple of songs. His friends are around us and a few of them tell me their names as we dance – Jesse, Scott, Ian. After a few songs I tell Karl, "Hey, come on, I'll buy you a drink."
He nods and links his arm through mine before we begin a slow weave back to the bar. When we have drinks in hand I ask him, "There's a lounge upstairs where it's a bit quieter, right?" He nods and I continue, "Can we go up there? I wanted to talk to you about last weekend."
He looks perplexed but agrees. Upstairs we find a vacant banquette on which to sit. We still have to talk over the noise, the cacophony of voices in the packed lounge, but it's much better than down on the dance floor.
"So," I begin, "I came here tonight hoping I'd find you. I wanted to talk to you about last Friday when I came to your place."
He's regarding me with uneasiness now. "Fuck, Jack. You look serious as a heart attack. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" I assure him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you I have a disease or something."
He relaxes visibly and smiles. "Thank fuck. I mean, I know we were safe, but…you know."
I do know. It's the same risk all of us take any time we hook up with someone whose sexual background we don't know. "No, I wanted to talk to you about when I…" Time to swallow my pride. "When I hurt you."
"Oh, that." He shrugs. "Like I said, Jack, it's fine. I did ask you to give it to me hard."
"You did," I acknowledge, "but I still should have been careful. I always am, and I can't even explain what happened. I felt awful, that night and all goddamn week. I had to come tell you how much I regret it."
"You came here specifically to find me so you could apologize?" He looks astonished.
"I did," I nod. "When my dad gave me 'the sex talk' he told me that no one else would be accountable for me. I was responsible, he said, not just to use a condom but to make sure my partner was okay. 'A real man brings respect to a sexual relationship, even if that relationship only lasts one night.' When I came out at the end of high school he told me it changed nothing about my responsibilities in that regard. It stayed with me."
Karl has listened to me with wide. "Well, fuck," he replies. "I've never heard anyone say anything like that before."
"That's why I came looking for you," I continue. "I should have said it as soon as it happened. I'm so sorry that I wasn't careful or respectful of you, Karl. I regret it very much."
"Thank you for coming to find me," he replies, his hand reaching out to gently stroke the back of mine where it rests on my thigh. "And for apologizing. Of course I accept. It's fine – I'm fine. Really." He gazes at me for a moment before adding, "Maybe you are Cary Grant."
I have to laugh at his assessment. "Not even close," I reply. "For starters, Katharine Hepburn would walk all over me, I'm quite sure."
"That's an unfair comparison," he grins. "She was dynamite." He slides his fingers under my hand and links them with mine. I'm pretty sure he's not just being friendly. I meet his gaze and he's looking hungrily at me.
"Karl," I begin, but he shushes me.
"I know. I know you don't like to kiss, and I know you don't like a guy who comes on too strong…don't look so surprised. I've got eyes, Jack, and I'm pretty decent at reading body language. You don't have to be worried that I'm going to cling. I'm not looking for anything other than the chance to have you in my bed again."
Hmm. Just another no-strings fuck? "Technically you didn't have me in your bed before…" I point out coyly. He only smirks in reply. I think perhaps he knows I'm in.
-o-
Two hours later I'm whistling as I walk home, thoroughly sated and relaxed and thinking how terribly convenient it is that Karl's apartment is so close to Spin. Things went well there tonight. He didn't try to kiss me, but he did give one knee-buckling blowjob. And as I was waiting at the bar for Karl to say goodbye to his friends, the boy I saw when I first arrived came up to me, introducing himself as Sam. I told him I already had plans but that I would keep an eye out for him next time I was there. He nodded and smiled, and suggested he'd like it if that happened sooner rather than later.
I can only grin as I consider that, at least where sex is involved, my prospects here are pretty damn good. Not that I've ever had trouble finding a hookup, but being new has given me a freedom I've never experienced before.
On the other hand, something I've realized since moving here is how much time I have alone with my thoughts. In Seattle I had the options to see my friends on the weekend and I always exercised that option. Knowing that, I chose to have weekday evenings to myself.
Here my weekends are spent doing what little amount of cleaning and laundry are necessary, then I'm on my own. This weekend I end up on the phone a lot. I call both of my brothers at school, my mom again, Ashton and Kathleen, Jasper and Edward, my roommate from my freshman year of college. I even get on Facebook and nose around to see if any old college friends are in the area (there are a couple but no one I'm really anxious to see). I figure while my time is my own I should make the most of getting to know my new city. Saturday afternoon I visit the Adler Planetarium. As the stars chart a course around the ceiling of the darkened Sky Theatre I decide I have to bring Jacey here when he visits – he would be entranced by the beauty of this.
Sunday evening I call him, as arranged. He's waiting for me of course, and has good news that he's already completed three of his four assignments. "I've been working like a demon," he admits. "Seriously – I haven't been to a club in two weeks."
"Wow, by the time you get here you'll be ready to cut loose," I suggest.
"Definitely," he agrees. "I can't wait. A friend of mind was telling me about a club called Spin? He said it's pretty wild."
"It's not bad," I agree. "They have good music, definitely. They have 'events' if you like that sort of thing. Something for everyone. But there are a couple others I haven't been to yet. I'd like to go while you're here…" I find myself steering the conversation away from the clubs, asking him about school, work, family…anything else.
As we wrap up he says wistfully, "Well, five days from now I'll be with you."
"For a whole week," I add. "Think you'll be able to put up with me that long?"
"I like a challenge," he replies.
"Smartass," I grin. "Have a safe trip."
"See you Friday, Cracker Jack."
"Bye, Jacey."
I'm not sure how I feel about taking him to Spin – the thought of him seeing me with Karl or seeing the other boy, Sam, acknowledge our casual plans, makes me uncomfortable. The problem is, I don't know why it does. Neither of us has made or asked for any kind of commitment or exclusivity. Surely he understands as well as I do how complicated and impractical that would be. He lives 1200 miles away and we've only actually been together on two separate weekends. I don't know if I could be in an exclusive relationship where my partner was so far away and I saw him only every few months.
On the other hand, the mere fact that he's travelling this far to visit me makes this more than just a friends-with-benefits situation. I know the connection we feel is uncommonly intense. If life was different, if we didn't live so far apart…but it's not, and we do.
I have to stop being such a little girl about it because it isn't going to change.
-o-
Monday I'm back to work, and I have a meeting this morning with Mike Newton, the lawyer I met in the parking garage my first day here. Before I begin acting as a broker, I've been asked to work with Mike to figure out exactly what Eric Yorkie was up to during his last months here. I'm proud to say that it was my assistants, Jenna and Susan, who finally went to Andrew to complain that Eric was making unauthorized trades. When Yorkie was confronted with it, there was nothing he could do to deny it. Management staff "suggested" he resign immediately, which he did. Unfortunately, before the company could take steps to address it directly with the clients involved, one of them realized what was going on and went directly to the Securities & Exchange Commission to file a complaint.
Which is why lawyers are now involved in figuring this shit out. We will have an SEC agent present as we review the files. Mike, our counsel will be there as well, and me, a broker who is new to the firm. I have no culpability and no strong ties to anyone in the firm that might tempt me to conceal information to protect myself or my colleagues. The key is transparency in the process – it's the only way to appease the SEC and regain the good name the brokerage had.
Mike is shown into my office at around 10 am, looking very dapper in a charcoal grey suit and a plum silk tie. "Hi Jack," he says pleasantly, extending his hand. "Good to see you again."
"Hello Mike." I shake his hand. "Likewise." His pale blue eyes twinkle; he's even better-looking than I remembered. It's obvious the lighting in the parking garage and the elevator just weren't sufficient to do him justice.
"Getting settled in, I see?" He looks around my office curiously. "How are things going?"
"Going very well, actually," I smile. "Everyone is really helpful. I'm looking forward to getting this Yorkie stuff over with so I can get back to being a stock broker again."
"Yeah, he really made a mess of things," Mike replies absently as he stands in front of my bookshelf looking at the contents. I have books, of course, but also a couple of photos of my family, a little statue of the Space Needle, and a few token items from several places where I've volunteered over the years – all oriented toward service to the gay community. He spends the most time looking at these. As he does I wonder whether it's possible that he's gay as well. Unfortunately I have absolutely no intuition about this sort of thing - I'm consistently wrong. Even Ashton's better at guessing than I am. But in this case…well, even if Mike was gay, him being is the firm's legal counsel makes it pretty cut and dried. No fraternization, especially in the midst of this Yorkie stuff.
When Mike turns back to me, he remarks, "It's great that you have a job that you love, something you're looking forward to getting back to."
"And that I deal well with stress," I add.
He grimaces. "Yeah, the last few years have been a little crazy, huh?"
"You could say that," I grin.
At that point my supervisor Andrew comes in and our meeting gets underway. The three of us teleconference with the SEC agent, Steven. Steven outlines what information we'll be collecting and sets out the SEC's guidelines about the chain of custody for the documents we set aside. He suggests that perhaps two weeks will be an adequate length of time for the three of us to go through the files. As we'd all like to begin right away we decide to start tomorrow.
Once the arrangements are complete and the teleconference is over, Mike also reviews some information with Andrew and me, about the type of conversations we should avoid in Steven's presence. He isn't suggesting that we hide anything – only that if we have any doubts, we should speak to him privately about it and he'll present it to the SEC agent.
When we're finished it's noon. This afternoon Mike and I are going to get the 39th floor conference room ready for us to inhabit for the coming two weeks, but Mike suggests that we get some lunch first. I agree and we make our way to a lunch place I've discovered down the street from my building. They have amazing soups there and an employee told me last week they always have a vegetarian option among their daily soups.
The deli is almost a cafeteria-style layout. We get our food and pay then go find a table. The lunch rush is on so it's very busy and quite noisy. At least there won't be any awkward silences.
"So, Jack," Mike asks after a few bites, "what do you think of Chicago so far?"
"So far? It's goddamn cold," I grin, "though the sunshine does help make up for that."
"It's been a pretty cold winter, even by Chicago standards," he says, adding wryly, "though I've never noticed the sunshine doing much to make up for subzero temperatures."
"At least you see sunshine here," I counter. "It didn't get this cold in Seattle but it was so damp, always damp, and almost always cloudy and grey. I found the weather terribly depressing."
"You said you're from California, right?" he recalls, to which I nod. "What took you to Seattle?"
"My best friend and I are both from California originally, but we didn't meet till we were both at Harvard. When we were done we knew we wanted to be closer to California than the east coast, so we started applying in Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona…anywhere closer than mid-West. I got a job first, and it was in Seattle; and then he got a couple offers and took the one in Seattle."
"Um, by 'best friend', do you mean boyfriend...?" He trails off questioningly.
I look up at him, incredulous. He's sitting there, calmly waiting for me to answer like he's entitled to all the details bout my life. Seriously? Who the fuck does Mike Newton think he is?
-o-
Any guesses on what Jacey's ringtone might be for Jack's calls? :)
The season of Christmas is upon us and I have so much to be grateful for this year. Creatively, this has been the most rewarding year of my life. I am honoured to share this corner of the interwebs with you and to have forged so many new friendships and acquaintances. I wish you comfort and joy, and the happiest of New Years.
Peace and love,
Katie xoxo
