Page 50 of Monk
Slowly, the memory of what I did last night—with Jacob—all comes back to me. And as if to reinforce the point, my body vibrates with the delicious aches and pains in my body from a night of vigorous sex. It’s not as hard and rough as we used to get up to—I got the feeling he was holding back a bit—but it was still very good. Honestly, the last time I felt that good or that satisfied was probably the last time I was with him.
Spencer and I hadn’t had much of a sex life to speak of, even in the best of times. I long suspected that he had a string of girlfriends, and I was more just there for the aesthetics when he needed a plus one for social functions. But when we did have sex, it was never very good. Spencer isn’t whom you’ll consider a generous—or even thoughtful—lover, really. It’s always all about him getting his, and he doesn’t care if he gets me off or not.
But Jacob has proven to be the generous lover he’s always been, and he makes sure that I am well pleased. It isn’t just about him getting off. He seems to enjoy it more when I get off. That is the way it’s always been with him.
As I sit there, the reality of the situation seeps into my brain, and along with it, a wave of—not exactly regret—but something else. Disbelief. The fact that I slept with Jacob, given our history and all of the emotion involved with it, makes me want to slap myself upside the head. What in the hell was I thinking?
It was just that standing in the entryway last night, looking into his eyes, stirred something in me. It awakened something in me that had been dormant for so long that I couldn’t help myself. The passion and lust I feel for Jacob—have always felt for him—came rushing back to the surface and I felt helpless to do anything but give in to it.
Slipping out of bed, I find my clothes sitting on a chair in the corner. At some point in the night, he must have gone out to the entryway where we’d hastily disrobed and collected them for me. It’s a thoughtful gesture that only adds another layer to the confusion already rampaging through my mind.
I start to dress quickly when I hear Jacob’s voice echoing down the hallway. I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop, but I pause what I’m doing and stand completely still, listening on his end of the conversation.
“We gotta do it today?” he asks.
There’s a pause as he listens to the answer.
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be there,” he says, then pauses again before he speaks. “The old mill. Yeah, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
The old mill is an artifact from another era. Way back in the day, Blue Rock Bay was a lumber town. Eventually, the industry died out when the sequoia trees were put under the protection of the federal government—if I remember my history correctly—sometime in the late nineteenth century. The old mill passed through a few hands since then, as people tried to find another use for it, but about fifty years ago or so, the last owners gave up on it and abandoned it altogether.
It has stood empty ever since and is more frequently used as a hangout for people looking for a quiet place to get drunk or high, or for horny teenagers looking for a secluded place to screw their brains out. Jacob and I spent our fair share of nights out there. It’s a thought that brings a smile to my face, but I quickly wipe it away. This is not the time for a trip down memory lane. This is a time for me to figure out what in the hell I’m doing.
Jacob comes back into the room and gives me an awkward smile. He finds a pair of boxers and quickly slips them on. We both stand in silence for a moment, looking at each other, neither of us seeming to know what to say.
“Everything all right?” I ask, just to break the silence.
“Yeah. Just business,” he replies.
“Guess you have to go, huh?”
He nods. “Yeah. Got some work to do.”
He stands a bit rigidly. And when he looks at me, I can see that he seems… guarded. Maybe that’s not the right word, but he most definitely doesn’t seem as open as he did last night.
“Club business?” I ask.
Jacob quirks an awkward half smile at me. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Can I ask what sort of business your club is into?”
“I told you last night.”
“Actually, you ducked the question and I let it go.”
“I told you that we’re not into the things your dad accuses us of being into, Kasey. We’re not slingin’ meth or heroin out there. We’re not trafficking women…”
His voice trails off and his face clouds over. Jacob looks frustrated and he’s more defensive than he needs to be. It’s not like I’m giving him the third degree or anything. They’re just simple questions.
“We’re not the monsters your dad or anybody else in this fucking town thinks we are,” he states.
And with that answer, I know I’m not going to get a straight answer out of him, which of course, brings everything my dad said to mind again, as well as the fact that he dodged the question when I asked him last night. I want to believe it otherwise. That he will not knowingly get himself mixed up with trafficking drugs or people.
It’s just one more reason I need to force myself to take a step back and really think about this. Really think about what I’m doing before I let my heart get involved. I can possibly write last night off as just a case of hormonal overload. It had been so long since I was touched by a man that when I knew Jacob wouldn’t that deny from me, I simply went for it, needing to feel something. Needing to feel wanted. Needing to feel sexual again. Things I haven’t felt in longer than I can remember.
I clear my throat and look at him. “So, listen, about last night—”
“It’s okay, Kasey. I get it.”
