She was trying to be sympathetic.
The voice on the phone was by turns emphatic, subdued, was male and not obviously drunk but she could tell he'd been drinking.
"...I called because, because you know the players, you know what I'm up against, you know what I'm going through..."
"...again", she thought as the voice rambled on.
"You called me because you know I'm three hours ahead of you and I wouldn't be asleep yet." she said, trying to project her half-smile through the miles of fiber-optic telephone line.
"Yeah, well, that too..." he mumbled, voice trailing off.
"So. Are you ok?" Lame, she thought.
"Yes... no... I mean I have it all worked out in my head. I mean my head is ok with this. My head is wonderful. It thinks. Thinking is good. I do a great deal of thinking and it works for me, this thinking thing. When I can just think about it, think not FEEL oh no not FEEL, I'm ok with it..."
She thought she heard a sound during the verbal pause, a swallow of something liquid. He got like this, sometimes. It was about the only time she heard from him. She decided she would decide later if this bothered her.
"Ok...so anyways I made it through the weekend and I got out of there ok..." he continued.
"Where did you go? What did you do?" she asked.
"...we went to the marina, just poked around you know, uhm... we just walked around down where we used to. It was great. It was perfect, if you know what I mean? It had rained but the sun was shining and we were just walking around."
"What happened?" she prodded, wishing as always he'd get to a point. Sometime. Preferably before she had to start dinner for the boys. The green beans needed to be blanched then sautéed.
"...well ok we went to the marina and then later had some great italian at that place around the corner from her. Do you know she's lived for years there right around the corner from this GREAT italian place and she's NEVER been there? I mean you can smell the calamari in garlic from her balcony. If I lived there I couldn't STAND it; I'd be big as a house 'cause I'd be down there all the time, ordering the fettuccine alfredo..."
She rolled her eyes, willing herself not to be impatient with his digressions. This was just the way he gets it out, she sighed, and to try and get him to stick to one subject was like trying to nail an egg to the wall.
"We had the antipasto..." he continued, "...or at least we shared it and ordered some linguini with clams. I remembered she liked that. With the white clam sauce, but we were stuffed from the garlic bread and the salad so we had to take the pasta home in a go-box."
Pause. Another swallow.
Before she could ask him what he was drinking, he went on with a rush.
"So we go back up to her place and we sat around and watched some videos and listened to some music and talked and she said she'd found Jimmy online, you know, Jimmy, from the show? you know, the one that, uhm, is like the whole circus all by himself?"
She knew Jimmy. Jimmy had failed to add her to his list of conquests, despite repeated attempts. She felt a creeping dread of what was coming next.
"Yeah well she said that she and Jimmy had begun....uhm...talking. You know, like messaging online and all that. She added him to her website and he added her to his, uh, you know like he's got like 900 girls on that list. So she says that she wants to get to know him better, that she's, like, INTERESTED in him. And I mean, why NOT? Why NOT? he's got the body of a greek god and he's a real charmer and he's, like, DONE things. He can DO things; he's no one-trick pony, no sirree, he's actually got something to back up his 'pretty'..."
She grimaced. "So, what? It's not like she's planning to screw him."
Silence.
Another swallow.
"Well? She isn't, is she?"
He spoke slowly, carefully articulating.
"She said she wasn't sure that she would."
She thought for a second, grateful for the silence, mindful of its ominous portent.
"Why would she tell -you- this?"
"Why? WHY? BECAUSE I'M HER GODDAM BEST FRIEND!!" he exploded.
"Don't shout at me. I can hear you fine."
"Ok. Sorry. Ok, so she tells me because she can tell me anything, she can be who she really is with me. I didn't set it up this way, it just fell in like this. YES, I show up for it, because she's MY best friend too..."
She smirked into the phone.
"...but I'm not like HIM. I am -not- pretty. All my accomplishments are not finely-honed tools of seduction. Can't blame him though. If I had the right genes I'd ride them into the sunset as often as he does, you bet!"
"Why are you even comparing yourself to him?" she interjected.
"Why?"
Another swallow.
"Yes: why?"
"Because..."
She willed herself to be patient, to let him purge.
"Because..."
Long pause.
"Because... I touch her."
She stared blankly, not knowing what to say.
"Touch her..?" she stumbled.
"Yes. Touch her. Physically. We spend hours, sitting together. She will put her legs in my lap. She'll turn her back to me and pull pillows into her tummy. I touch her. She loves to be touched, to be massaged. I know her body as intimately as any lover. She trusts me to touch her because she knows me. She knows my spirit. She trusts me and that's something so beautiful it makes me weak just to feel it sometimes oh gawd it's AMAZING considering how she's been abused. It's a fucking benediction is what it is to me. I'm the only one who knows her body's pain. I pull it out of her and get rid of it. I know her secret triggers and where all the nerve ganglions are having a party. 'Deep Intuitive' is what I call it and it isn't something common, to have that kind of deep connectivity..."
"So, what's this got to do with Jimmy?" she asked.
A long pull at something liquid, a crackle of electricity on the line, like lightning striking.
"Because he's going to touch her too."
She hrmphed.
"You don't know that."
"He will. He'll see to it. Won't leave it alone until he does."
"Uhm..."
"He'll touch her. He'll begin with a massage. He does that too: 'Intuitive massage' and I have no doubt that's one of the Big Guns in his seduction arsenal. He'll find her secret spots, he'll know the cord of her thigh as it runs up the inside of her legs. He'll find the compression values in her chest as he grasps her pectorals and breasts."
"So? what's the difference between that and what you do with her?"
"Because I stop."
"Huh?"
"Because I know where to stop short. My touch isn't bent toward arousal, at least not sexual arousal. But he won't stop. He'll let his grasp of her breast become a caress, his fingers will become a tease to her nipples. He'll go up that cord inside her thigh, not stopping, to her vagina and inside, to feel her wetness and excitement. And yes she'll be wet and excited and she will OPEN to him, she will invite him in because this is something she wants and I know she does and something she NEEDS and I know she does..."
His words continued in a rush.
"...she will draw his face up to hers and kiss him, excited because he's a pretty masculine man that she wants and is only too willing to have her in return. He will bend down and suck her nipples and kiss her down her tummy in butterflies and he will put his tongue inside her..."
"Holy fuck! Why are you torturing yourself like this?"
He continued, oblivious.
"He'll undress and my GAWD what a pretty man he'll be for her. His cock will spring up on command like an eager dog for it's master and she'll grasp it and take it into her mouth..."
She closed her eyes, not sure whether she was disturbed or simply embarrassed.
"She'll suck him slowly, then faster. He'll smile and take his cock away from her, then, and slide his face down to her pussy again. She'll be wetter than she's been in a long time, eager from his tongue, trembling in anticipation. He'll begin to lick her you bet he will, he's skilled at this you know and knows exactly where and how hard and how fast. he'll make her cum, first slowly, like an inevitable eruption boiling up from a place locked away deep inside her, an orgasm released from a secret place in her soul that I cannot touch..."
