Chapter 17
He looked into her face and knew that he could easily take her now, that she would not fight him if he sat her on his lap and entered her. He knew she was beyond stopping now. He stared at her face and realized he couldn’t do it. Not now, not this way. It would be heaven to be driving deep into her body, to relieve the tension and the desire he was feeling. It was what he wanted and needed, but he also knew that he couldn’t do it now. If he did, she’d run. She was too vulnerable. She hadn’t completely fallen in love with him, not enough to tell him about George, not enough to leave George and marry him. He realized with a jolt that one night of loving her would be amazing, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone before, but he wanted her for a lifetime, not just for one night of a one week affair.
The thought of George and his relationship to Joan came between them like a barrier. Dave slowly released her. His hands moved away from her body. Joan gradually became aware of the change in Dave’s touch. A terrible sense of emptiness and shame filled her. She became acutely aware of her nakedness. When he lifted her off his lap and moved across from her, Joan felt as if she had been slapped. Without a word, she quickly stepped out of the spa. She grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her, covering her vulnerable nakedness, ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.
Dave sat there for a few minutes, cursing George and himself for his weakness. He felt emptiness more acute than anything he had ever experienced before. His body returned to normal, and he climbed out of the spa. He retrieved her suit, twisted the water out of it, and then hung both of their suits up to dry. When he crossed the living room to his bedroom, he could hear muffled sobs coming from Joan’s bedroom.
He reached for her doorknob, and then he pulled his hand away.
“Joan,” he called softly. “Are you all right? May I come in?”
“Please, just go away,” she cried.
“I’m so sorry, Joan. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promised this would be strictly business. I should have never touched you or kissed you in the first place. Please try to forgive me,” he begged. “Can’t we talk about it?”
“No. Not tonight. I just want to be alone,” she cried.
“We’ll talk about this later. Please forgive me. Sleep well,” he sighed.
Joan clutched the pillow tighter against her mouth to try to muffle the sound of her sobbing. She felt so ashamed of her willing response to his touch. She ached with the desire and need his touch had awakened in her. She knew that if he had not pulled back, she would have eagerly made love with him.
She shrank down into the bed and shivered. “Why did he pull back? He could feel me responding to him? He must not really care or love me, or he must love someone else. Why else would he have stopped so suddenly? I could feel he wanted me, but I know he is an honorable man. He said it would be strictly business. That must be why he stopped. He wouldn’t break his promise to keep it a ‘business trip.’ It is just as well,” she sobbed. “It would hurt even more saying goodbye to him if we had made love and then he pulled away. Still, I wanted him; I still want him. It would have been something wonderful to remember after we parted. I am so confused,” she sobbed.
Exhausted from all the emotions, she sank into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were filled with memories of his caresses and kisses. Each time when she was ready to surrender to his lovemaking, he stopped and she felt cold, empty, and deserted.
The next morning, Dave knocked on Joan’s bedroom door, but there was no answer. “Joan, are you alright? Are you awake? Please answer me,” he called anxiously. “After last night, could she have left? Joan, are you all right?”
Dave tried the doorknob, but it was locked from the inside. “Joan, are you awake? It’s almost 9 am and our plane leaves at 11:30. Please open the door and talk to me. Please, Joan, come and talk to me.”
He was getting ready to force his way into the bedroom when he heard noises from the other side of the door. “Joan, are you awake? Please open the door and talk to me,” he begged.
“I’m sorry. I just got out of the shower. I’ll be dressed and out in a couple of minutes,” Joan called.
Dave answered, “Okay. Our plane leaves at 11:30. Do you want me to order breakfast for you?” he said through the closed door.
“Breakfast sounds fine. I’m nearly dressed now, and I am almost packed and ready to leave. Would you order some coffee and orange juice for me?” Joan asked.
About five minutes later, Joan came out of her bedroom wearing green wool slacks and a golden cashmere sweater. Her hair was still wet, so she had it pulled back away from her face and tied it with a green ribbon. She had carefully applied her makeup and the only evidence of the previous night’s turmoil was her eyes were a little puffy. When she walked out, Dave turned and watched her bring her suitcase out and put it near the door.
Dave waited for her to speak about what had happened last night in the spa, but all she said was, “How is your shoulder today, Dave? Did you need a pain pill before getting on the plane? It might keep it from getting as sore as it did yesterday.”
“No, I don’t need any medicine. So far, it is still feeling better. Thanks for putting that medicine and ice pack on it last night. I guess I really overdid it. I’m sorry about last night,” he started to say.
“Please, Dave, you don’t need to say anything. I understand, and I think you were right. Let’s just leave it at that. There’s nothing we need to talk about. Has the coffee been delivered yet?” she asked, changing the subject.
In answer to her question, there was a knock on the suite’s door. When Dave opened it, the breakfast tray was rolled inside and was placed next to the table. A pot of hot coffee was sitting on the tray. She walked over and poured a cup of coffee, added a splash of cream and sugar. “Do you want me to pour a cup for you?” she asked.
She poured his coffee and put it on the table. She sat down at the table and smiled at him. “What’s on the agenda today?” she asked after taking a sip of the coffee.
Dave sat down across from her and poured her some orange juice. He handed her a plate with eggs, sausage patty, creamy grits, and toast. Joan ate silently, barely picking at her food.
Dave asked, “Would you rather have something else to eat? I wasn’t sure what you’d want. I can get something else sent up,” he suggested.
“No, thanks anyway. I don’t feel very hungry this morning. This is fine. I don’t normally eat much for breakfast,” she answered.
About 10:30, Joan and Dave left the room to go to the airport. After Joan drove to the rental car parking area at the airport, she grabbed her suitcase and carried it to a waiting airport shuttle. Dave reached for her suitcase, but she said, “I’ve got it. I don’t want you carrying mine. You have your own luggage. Trying to manage both suitcases might be one of the reasons why your shoulder has been hurting. I don’t want you using it any more than you have to. From now on, you need to use a sling and rest it as much as possible,” she explained while they walked through the terminal.
“Joan, I can carry it. You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“I know, but there’s no reason why I can’t do it for myself. After all, this is a business trip. I can take care of myself,” she answered firmly.
“Please, Joan, it may be business, but you are also my guest. I’d feel better if you let me help you,” he insisted.
“It’s a moot point now; we are almost to the baggage check in counter. I have always had to take care of myself. I appreciate your offer, but I’d rather finish what I started,” she replied, instantly regretting her choice of words.
After checking in their luggage, they headed for the VIP lounge to wait for their flight. Joan began feeling nervous about the flight, but she was determined to handle it by herself. Her nerves were still raw from the events of the night before. She felt angry wit
h herself for not controlling her emotions. Today, she was determined to keep everything on a safe, calm, business-like level.
When the plane began boarding, they were led to first class seats. She stowed her carry-on bag in the compartment above her seat, sat down, buckled her seat belt, and waited while the others boarded. As the plane was taxiing down the runway, Dave took her hand in his. “I know taking off makes you nervous. You can squeeze my hand if it helps,” Dave suggested.
“Thanks. I may do that if I get scared, but I think I’ll be OK today,” she said.
“You can hold my hand, even if you aren’t scared,” he added with a sheepish grin. Joan visibly relaxed and smiled at Dave. He was trying so hard to be tactful and make her feel comfortable. She gently squeezed his hand and smiled. No matter what, she realized, she couldn’t stay angry at Dave for very long.
Dave talked quietly as they flew from Orlando to Seattle/Tacoma airport. “I played my last two years of college in Washington. I haven’t been back to visit in several years. One of my oldest and dearest friends lives there still. I wanted to see him again. When I was here at the University, he and his family befriended me. They are totally different than my parents, socially and financially, but they are very special to me. I don’t think this visit will be useful for the article, but Henry told me that his brother Jesse was feeling very bad. I wanted to see him and be sure he’s all right.”