46 - Good Day Sunshine

After eventually succumbing to a short, but deep sleep in the still-unfamiliar bed, Petey’s eyes flew open and zipped through the semi-darkness of pre-dawn, straining to make out her surroundings.  She was confused as to her whereabouts or what had awakened her. 

Jon’s bedroom.

That answered one question, and the muffled sound of pain from the other side of the huge bed answered the other.

She rolled over, asking sleepily, “Jon?  Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he gritted, and in the shadows she could make out his bare back and elbow moving up and down, rubbing at his back.  “Just a back spasm.  I’m sorry I woke you.  Go back to sleep.”

At first, she did as he suggested and rolled back over, but with the next muttered ‘dammit’, she was shimmying through the sheets to get closer to him.  With a gentle prod on his shoulder, she urged, “Flip over on your stomach.”

He didn’t budge from where he lay on his right side, facing away from her.  “Petey, it’s okay.  As soon as I can get up, I’ll get in the Jacuzzi.  It’ll be fine.”

“Stop being contrary.”  She nudged more purposefully at his left shoulder in an effort to push it toward the mattress.  “Just do it.”

Unyielding for a moment, another spasm inspired more swearing and convinced him to comply with her instructions.  Amid quiet grumbles, the mattress dipped and swayed until his bare back was pointing toward the ceiling, covers pooled at his waist.

A couple of easy movements had Petey out from under the bed clothes, straddling his thighs with the heavy comforter between them.   Jon’s soft, black t-shirt – the one that had become her nightgown the last couple of nights – bunched up around her waist and her hands began methodically manipulating the knotted muscles in the small of his back.

“Shit,” he hissed, tensing even further.

“Relax,” she pacified, trading her firm kneading for long, soothing strokes along the surface of his skin until he loosened under her touch.  Finding the most pronounced knotting just below his shoulder blades, she used the heels of her hands to apply a gentle, even pressure over the muscles.  The slow, circular motions had him grunting into his pillow, but the muscles eventually began to give way under her persistent ministrations.

Several minutes later, all of the muscles from neck to waist were pliable under her touch.  His quiet “Thank you,” found her back on the opposite side of the bed.

“You’re welcome.”

She shifted uncertainly against the mattress.  It was only five in the morning according to his bedside clock, which was too early for the driver, but too late to try and go back to sleep.  Should she use his shower to get a head start on the day?

“I never asked you how your day was yesterday.”  The mattress dipped when he maneuvered onto his left side, so that he was facing her – or her profile at least.  She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.  Her hands were gripped tightly together over her stomach.

There was something intimate about lying in bed and talking to him in the shadows of early morning, especially about mundane things like how her day had been.  It made her uncomfortable.   They had sex, they didn’t ask about one another’s days.

“That’s one of the great things about not being in a relationship,” she observed lightly, wondering if it would be unforgivably rude to switch on the lamp.  Dispelling the shadows might lessen the intimacy level.  “You have no obligation to care how my day went.”

His sigh was quiet, yet carried easily across the width of the mattress.  Petey held her breath, waiting for the argument that didn’t happen.  “I have some Christmas shopping I need to finish up this evening, so I might be late getting home.  You should probably grab dinner before you come over.”

The darkness was starting to suffocate her, and his voice felt like it was coming closer.  “You don’t have to worry about my dinner, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.  That’s not what you signed on for this week.”

“And you didn’t sign on to massage my damn back.”

He was right, but how could she be expected to leave him to suffer when the fix was so easy?  Unable to refute what he said, she opted for saying nothing at all.

This time the sigh was more a grunt of frustration before he spitefully demanded, “How about you come over here and let me put my dick in you then, since we’re not straying from the terms of the contract?  I’m sure that's on your list of approved interactions.”

Logically, she knew he was lashing out from frustration, just like he always did.  This time, though, PMS must be rearing its ugly head.  His words cut more deeply than they should, and a hint of tears pricked at her eyes.

Petey flipped back the covers and slid from the bed, stating quietly, “I think I’ll go downstairs and take a shower since I’m awake.  It will save some time when I get home.”

He watched her gather her clothing in sullen silence, boring holes into her back as she scooped up all the pieces of lingerie, clothing and shoes.  Everything was tucked securely in her arms, and she had just stepped across the threshold of the bedroom when she heard him curse. 

“Petey,” he beckoned, but she didn’t slow her footsteps.  They would only end up in an argument and, for once, she didn’t feel like fighting with him.

All the way down the staircase and across the living room, she held her breath, half-expecting him to come charging after her so that he could finish the argument that hung in the air between them.  It was a relief of sorts when she made it to the guest bath without incident. 

Once locked inside the bathroom, she allowed her back to slide down the closed door until her bare butt hit the floor.  The cool tiles chilled her, but she let her head fall forward to rest on her bent knees, uncaring. 

The first couple of times he’d hurled those kinds of insults at her, they had bounced right off.  Now…  Well, now she hoped PMS was the only reason it was hitting her differently.  He was so much work sometimes.  She didn’t know if good sex was worth this much trouble.

The loud knocking at her back startled her, making her head snap up and her heart jump. 

She’d breathed her sigh of relief a moment too soon.

“Petey, open the door.”

Dammit, Jon, leave me alone.  Let me take my irrational emotions and drown them in a hot shower.  I’ll be back to normal by the time Kinky Fuckery, Round Three starts.

“Just let me take my shower, please.   I don’t want to fight with you, and I’ll be gone in less than an hour.”

The knocking escalated to thumping. “Open the fucking door.”

Wearily re-infusing her spine with the steel she needed to get through this, and stuffing her emotions away, Petey pushed her feet under her to rise from the floor.  A flip of her wrist had the lock disengaged, and she turned the knob, opening the door about eight inches.  It was open enough to see and be seen, but still allowed her to keep her distance.

And what did Jon do?  For all his impatience and purpose, he didn’t speak.  He stood there, silent, his sleep-puffed eyes searching her face.  She didn’t know what he was looking for, or if he found it, but he lifted a hand and brought it forward to touch her cheek. 

She withdrew before he made contact.

“Dammit, Petey,” he grumbled, dropping his hand uselessly at his side.  “Why does everything between us have to be so difficult?”

She knew the right words, but Petey had to dig deep to find a measure of sincerity when spouting them.  “It’s not difficult at all.  We have sex.  Period.  Just like you said.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You can’t expect me to treat you like some damn blowup doll that I screw and then toss to the side.  You’re a human being, whom I happen to like, and I’m not going to treat you as any less.  It’s not going to kill you to be friends with me.”  His eyes captured her ice-blue irises with the intensity of blue lasers.  “Is it?”

Maybe.

Could she do friends with him?  Did she trust herself to be friends with him?  The lines were so clear right now, it was easy to see when she strayed and to correct her course.  Friendship would only blur those lines. 

He’s always surprising you with his sense of humor and thoughtfulness.  You don’t just want to have sex with him.  You like him, too.  So what’s it going to hurt?

Her tangled hair swirled around her shoulders, when she shook her head and verbalized a soft, “No, I guess not.” 

If she was going to do this, she was going to do it.  Taking a mental breath, she stuck her foot out to take the first step.  “I have some shopping to finish up myself.  Do you want to meet for dinner and hit the stores together afterward?”

The blue lasers shut off with the precision of a light switch.  “I…  I’m not sure what I’m even looking for, or what time I’m going to be able to get started.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’ll probably end up skipping dinner.”

You don’t want me as a friend.  Well… maybe as an imaginary one that no one else can see.

She lifted her shoulder.  “Okay.  No big deal.  I just thought I’d offer.  Can I take my shower now?  The driver will be here soon.”

His weight shifted uncomfortably from one bare foot to the other beneath the hem of his unbuttoned jeans, and he dragged an agitated hand through his hair as though he wanted to say something else.   In the end, Jon leaned forward to dust her cheek with a kiss.  For her part, Petey held resolutely still and allowed it. 

“I’ll tell the driver  to pick you up at nine tonight.  Okay?”

She nodded and smoothly closed the door in his face.

This week had been a spectacularly bad idea.