(Complete) Devil In The Waters, Book 2, Chapter 7

Tuesday morning they woke up in bed together, his arm around Kimmy, both of them facing the dawning blue sky beyond their apartment window. He hummed a gentle leonine sound, more for himself, an honest grumble of appreciation for the woman in his arms. Kimmy’s light hand moved to stroke at his wrist.

“Oh, you’re up?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, still stroking.

They’d made love again last night. That was every night in a row since last mid-week. Not marathon displays like that first night, usually only once, and last night had been half an hour of love and caring. They were both still naked.

Something had changed since the party at Tiffany’s. It was like he’d been shoved into a ring of bloodthirsty people to face an opponent in a fist fight. The opponent larger, intimidating, no way for him to vanquish this foe, one look and anyone would know it. He and the opponent danced around, and he’d taken body blows, but, without warning, it had ended. Someone’d called the fight. No towel was thrown, the crowd merely dispersing, the opponent moving on to find someone else to pummel into the ground. No more texts came. The fear had subsided. Kimmy hadn’t brought up going back to work, and he wouldn’t bring it up either. She’d go back to the immigration firm. Her job was waiting for her, just a phone call away. Bringing it up, talking about it, could circle them back to the beginning of this awful serpentine maze: talking about Devin.

Could she work for him? How could she? The guy’d pinned her down, tried to . . . What? Sexually assault her? Rape her? No . . . But he’d made his intentions known. Then, surreptitiously to the woman’s husband, he’d showed just exactly the cards he held in his hand.

Now all he and Kimmy were left with was that awful adrenaline spike, that shockwave graph of last week. But in its wake, something else had been delivered besides the pain. An odd, and yes, perverted pleasure. His performance had been spot on every night. Like clockwork. Draw the pistol, aim, shoot. Fires every time. And the secret? While he held his wife lovingly, making love in their bed, all he had to do was hearken back to that evening on the Dragon’s patio, Kimmy recounting how Devin held her down, tried to kiss her, the two of them in the grass. And if he wanted a real turbo boost, he’d just picture the humped bulge of Devin’s pronounced erection pushing into Kimmy’s leg. Into her stomach . . . Into the cleft of her vulva . . . 

“Are you kidding me?”

“What,” he laughed, “sorry,” kissing behind her ear. He’d grown to full hardness, and she was aware. Their naked bodies clasped front to back, his erection had grown into the softness of her bent rump.

“You’re an animal,” she said.

“I’ll let you off the hook this morning as I have to get in the shower.”

“Don’t feel like a quickie?”

“Let’s leave it for tonight,” he said.

She was silent a long while, and he cocked his head to look at her profile on the pillow. She answered finally. “Deal.”

He poked his cock in between her ass cheeks, said, “That’s what happens when I wake up and you’ve got nothing on.”

She squirmed her butt against him, purposely flipping the crack in her butt cheeks against his boner, making it flick. He ran his hand on her ribs.

She said, “Is it okay if I drive you in to work today?”

“You want to have the car?”

“Yeah. That okay?”

“You and Karina got a gym date?”

“No, I just feel like going out today.”

“No problem,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “You going to sleep in?”

“No, I’ll get up. You want breakfast?”

“Sure,” he said, slipping backwards out of the bed, walking to the bathroom with his upright erection bouncing up and down and side to side.

***

Out of the shower now and dressed for work, he paused in the hall, knotting his tie and looking in Kimmy’s basket room. On her web store, she’d put up the notice: Orders on pause while Katt catches up!

She said she was going to close it, but had to do some thinking. She paused it for now while she finished the orders that had already come in. That meant sometime in his near future they’d have to talk about her going back to work. That would be fine, but not for Devin. The farther Devin appeared in the rearview mirror the better.

They ate breakfast together, then while he scrubbed the dishes with his tie flicked over his shoulder, Kimmy darted back to the bedroom to slip in to some sweats. She drove him into Swanson, and they smooched over the console, her body warm under his hand.

He texted her mid-morning to ask her how it was going. It took a while but she responded she was enjoying a day off. Said she might catch a movie later. That gave him a happy feeling, thinking of her taking some much needed Kimmy-time. Putting her thoughts in perspective. Making the right choice . . . 

At lunch, he invited Steve over after work for some beers and some pizza, probably a lot of Xbox. In trade, Steve would drive him home. Then he called his cousin, Meyer, see if he’d like to join. He would, and he had his niece for the week and Josh said she was more than welcome he was. Texted Kimmy then to let her know. Saying, don’t do dinner tonight, pizza’s on Papa—Steve and Meyer coming over, bringing Sophie. She didn’t respond. He wondered what movie she’d gone to. Two hours later she texted back a thumbs-up and applauding hands, Kimmy always happy to see Sophie.

***

After work, he arrived home at the apartment with his entourage. Through the front door holding six-year-old Sophie on a hip, one of her soft arms hooked around the back of her uncle Josh’s neck. Meyer carried the three pizza boxes. A vegetarian, meat lover’s (for balance), and a Hawaiian because Sophie loved pineapple.

Completely by chance, Meyer had also married an Asian woman. A Korean beauty named Hyun he met at engineering school. But things had not fared well, and Meyer and Hyun separated two years ago, divorced a year ago. Custody was split equally. Hyun had not remarried, and secretly, after drinks, Meyer would often surmise about her sexual identity. “Always talking about her friends’s bodies, Josh, I’m telling you . . . No, I’m serious, even Kimmy, always talking about Kimmy . . . Saying what?—You know, you’ve seen her, God, you sleep in the same bed with her,” Meyer’d said, “When Kimmy got that haircut, I came to pick up Sophie that weekend, Hyun had the same one. The same haircut. Tell me that’s not weird . . .”

Steve brought up the rear with two bags from the Jug City with 2L bottles of pop and bags of Doritos. It would be two hours of Just Dance for Sophie’s sake (God help them), then when Sophie crashed, there were a dozen members of an Al-Qatala terror cell he knew they would combine forces to battle.

The apartment was dark. No sign of Kimmy. He flicked on the lights, moved into the kitchen, nudged his chin to show Meyer where to set the boxes down. Steve came in as well, putting bottles in the fridge saying “Where’s Kimmy?”

“Don’t know,” he said, “car’s out front. She’s home.” Leaned over the pass-through counter, he shouted, “Kimmy?”

No answer. “I don’t know,” he said, “is it her gym night?”

Steve said, “She’s not gonna play video games?”

He said, “She’ll eat, dance with Soph, then I think she’ll hit the gym. You ever know Kimmy to play Modern Warfare?”

The bedroom door opened now, a quiet click down the hall. Kimmy emerged, the light from the kitchen spilling on her. Her hair was messy; she was still wearing the same sweats she’d dropped him off in hand. Her eyes looked puffy.

He said, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, “why?” unsmiling.

“Did you just have a nap?”

“I did,” she said, embarrassed, Meyer coming around to her side, saying “Give us a hug,” and they embraced.

Sophie brought up the rear, and Kimmy brightened instantly, squatting, rump to heels, putting both arms around Sophie and hugging her tight then grunting as she hoisted her up and holding her on her hip. “Oh my God, Sophie, you’ve got so heavy. Have you been working out?”

Sophie made a muscle; Kimmy kissed it. “What kind of pizza did you get?” Kimmy said, “I hope somebody got Hawaiian . . .”

Sophie said they did, pointing to the box. Steve performed a quick shell game with the pizza boxes, moving them around in confusing patterns, changing their lineup, stopping then and saying in a barker’s voice, “Go ahead, Sophie. Pick one—whatever it is, you gotta eat it . . .”

Kimmy laughed, and some of the weirdness left Josh seeing her come fully alight. Sophie said, “The Hawaiian one,” extending a hand with three-pronged fingers pointing at all the boxes.

Kimmy cooed, stroked Sophie’s wrist, kissed her hand saying “That’s my smart girl, you’re such a smart girl,” getting Sophie giggling.

Everyone loaded their plates, the guys and Sophie filed into the living room and fired up the Xbox. He lingered to talk to Kimmy. She put vegetarian slices on her plate and he stood behind her. “Feeling alright?”

“Totally fine,” she said. “I just woke up.”

“You had a nap?”

“I did.”

“Did you go out?”

“I did. I was out a lot.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, poked around. Went to the park—it was so nice today—sat on a bench . . .”

“Thinking?”

“Thinking,” she said.

He kissed the back of her neck. “That’s good. Did you see a movie?”

“I went to the theater but I couldn’t decide what I wanted to see, so I went to the mall and poked around.”

“Going to go to the gym tonight?”

She nodded.

“Are you?” He’d hoped she’d stay with them, hang out, soak up some of that Sophie energy. She’d spent the day thinking; it was likely to be whether she’d go back to work or have kids. He was okay with her choice, but now it wriggled through him that wanting Sophie to be here might be because that was his choice. Kids. But, shit, a couple more years work, both of them making a salary, the house they could buy . . . 

What if she made more money? What if she worked for Devin for two years? What if two years was the same as five years at the immigration firm? What if she worked two years for Devin, sucked it up, took one for the team? Just two years and they could be moving into the suburbs, nice big house, Kimmy with a round tummy . . . 

He smiled again, got super close to her, making her flinch and raise her shoulder to protect her ticklish neck and ear, got her giggling like Sophie. He set his plate down and wrapped his arms around her. “Fuck, I love you so much,” he said, and hugged her until she grunted.

***

Twenty minutes of cardio, and forty minutes of lifting weights on the machines had the malaise within her stretched thinner. Not eased away, still present; like a knot tightened below her stomach had gone looser.

It was the worst day. A discombobulated mess of emotions brought on by a man who didn’t mean anything to her. Fear he would show up. Ameliorated by thoughts of a possible high-paying job offer. Fear her consideration of this imaginary job offer may be some secret facet of herself interested in Devin showing up. But she wasn’t interested in Devin. Hated him. Then, when she wasn’t fearful, she grumbled. Hating that this man could hijack her simple life so heartily . . . More thoughts of the benefit a job like Devin could offer might bring . . . Then the rational side of herself saying Why don’t you go out and get one, then? Jesus, Kimmy. I mean, if you wanted more pay than the immigration firm then go out and look for something. When she thought she may be too hard on herself she considered Well, this job is right in front of you. Probably. But could you picture working with Devin? You know what that would be like. A nightmare. No way around it. The work would be fine, but can you imagine what you’d have to endure? You know his opinions. And if you don’t think you’d be fighting off his advances on the daily, you’re crazy. Then, a slithering thought: Are you sure you’d be fighting, Kimmy? She would.

A sensibility had been returned to her. Yes, she’d done things with Devin. Yes, more than once. Yes, those things could end her marriage. But the path had been righted, and she and Josh were tighter than ever. Everything she’d said to Karina about her and Josh was true. That’s how she could tempt herself with the thought she could work for Devin and resist him. Resist him? Sure. It’s not like he was irresistible. She didn’t even like him. Of course that dirty track had been already greased. With what she’d already permitted, how would she embark on a relationship that prohibited flirting. Or worse . . . 

Jesus, Kimmy, Devin’d move on to some other conquest after a while.

What?—so now you’re considering this job not even officially offered? No. But maybe.

Really? . . . 

It was like this all day.

She’d had to get out of the apartment, like the apartment was the source of these relentless non-sequiturs and the self-analysis.

Even out of the apartment she couldn’t escape the pestering thoughts.

The worst? An analysis while she sat on a bench in the sunny park and watched some kids play on the jungle gym. Would her marriage survive a tryst with Devin? If Josh found out what they’d really done, would he leave her? She wouldn’t blame him. It would crush her to death, but she wouldn’t blame him. All their friends would find out. They’d blame her. Of course, who else could they blame? It’s not like Josh disappointed her in any way. Not at all. Supportive and caring; the guy would move a mountain for her if she asked. Would Josh stay with you? Maybe. Look how he reacted when you gave him a glimpse of what happened at Tiffany’s. Would he stay with you if you’d gone further? . . . Would he stay with you if you had an affair? I mean, it would be clear to him it wasn’t emotional. And weren’t emotional affairs the most hurtful?

That line of personal questioning had got her off the bench and walking, trying to escape her own quisling brain.

Physical affairs, affairs based solely on sex weren’t hurtful? Was that something a part of her brain had armed itself with? And for what reason? Do you really, honest-to-god want to have sex with Devin? That pompous privileged piece of shit . . . ?

No. She didn’t.

It was something she could think about, and leave it at that.

Now she was at the fountain, taking a long drink, some fifty-year-old guy behind her with cutoff sleeves and gloves on waiting like she was taking too long. She let him in, backhanding water off her lower lip and nodding politely, the guy not giving her anything in return. Typical.

It was Devin’s fault, applying all this pressure on her. Pushing, pushing, pushing. Taunting. Kissing her. Pinning her down and humping his cock into your stomach. Humping it between your legs. That huge urgent cock. Like you don’t think about how it would be. All that Amy says, all she’s tried to make come alive, it never crosses your mind what it would be like to have sex with a guy like that? . . . Yeah, but here’s the thing. You’re twenty-seven now. You’re married. You have a good sex life with a man that loves you. Amy says you only think you have a good sex life. Saw Josh’s erection, later said to her You poor unsatisfied thing, getting Devin in on it. Like it was high school again.

No. She was no one’s game piece. No one’s toy. Too smart for that.

By the time she was passing through the doors to the women’s locker room, she had a nice old mad-on happening. At her locker she drew out her phone and her shower kit. She undressed, wrapped herself in a towel, the black face of her phone staring at her. Inviting her.

She sat down, hunched with the phone held in two hands. Fuck you, Devin. You don’t win. She texted.

Kimmy: sorry I was out today

Kimmy: hope you didn’t waste your time

Soon as she sent it, sitting on the bench wearing only a towel as two older women undressed behind her, coming in for the evening yoga class, she regretted it. But then seriously, fuck you, Devin. She’d got herself out of the apartment, avoided his advances. He’d made her do that. Embedded in her life now.

When no text returned, she whispered, “Good,” stood and put the phone in her locker, closed it, headed to the shower.

Half way there she heard a ding. Maybe her phone. Probably should ignore it, but she returned to her locker.

Devin: couldn’t make it

Devin: in TO all day today

“Good for you,” she said to her phone. Another text came in.

Devin: guess you’re not interested

She said, “What do you think?” Did he mean the job? Interested in what?

Kimmy: You can’t give me what I want

Meaning the job. Was this a negotiation?

Devin: you don’t know that

Maybe it was a negotiation. It didn’t matter.

Kimmy: you’ll never know

Devin: sounds like I should have made our appointment

Now she scoffed. The nerve of this guy.

Kimmy: we didn’t have an appointment

Kimmy: if we did I’d be there

Kimmy: I think our negotiations are done

Devin: negotiations? I like it

Devin: you sound sore

She scoffed louder, the sound echoing in the high metal rafters.

Kimmy: not sore

Kimmy: done

Kimmy: I’m at the gym with way better things to do with my time

Kimmy: so done with playing your games

Devin: we only started :(

“You’re such an asshole,” she whispered, shaking her head.

Kimmy: guess you don’t have all you thought :(

“Fucking prick.” She placed her phone in the top shelf of her locker. It dinged again. She faced it to her.

Devin: sounds like we should talk

“Nope, it doesn’t, my man,” she said, let the phone down, closed her locker and headed to the showers. Typical Devin. Elliptical, back to the start. If you start with him, he’ll just keep you running around, and every time he doesn’t get what he wants, he’ll pop your game piece back at the start again, make you run his course till he gets it from you. There was no way he didn’t come by the apartment today. Wished she could get the security cam access so she could embarrass him, send him a still of his arrogant ass ringing her buzzer, her not answering. Could picture it now, him in the lobby, wearing sunglasses, not getting what he wants. But he looks up to the security cam, knowing somehow she’s watching. He winks.

“Such a fucking asshole,” she laughed, levering the shower to near full hot. Now she couldn’t stop laughing at herself, at how mad she was. All the swearing, a snide exchange with a guy like Devin. He really winds your crank, Kimmy, doesn’t he? Consumes your thoughts. “Such an asshole,” she whispered under the water’s hiss. Cleaning herself, running soap over her wet naked body, lean and exercised, not looking too bad. Not bad at all. Better than those girls from high school, and she hadn’t needed Devin to point it out.

It was nice to hear. Nice to know your worth on the market.

When she returned to the locker, towel-wrapped, hair tied up, she checked her phone.

Devin: tell you what

Devin: back to Kingston, on the road now

Devin: passing Pickering

Shit.

Devin: You at the Jump Start Complex on Maitland right

Devin: Nav says I’ll be there in twenty. Bet I’ll be there in fifteen

“Fuck no,” she sighed, mind racing, thumping down to sit on the bench staring at her phone. The message came ten minutes ago . . .