Laying in Bed at One in the Morning

Laying in Bed at One in the Morning

Stephanie Becker stood in my doorway on a Saturday night, head titled to one side, green eyes brighter than ever. It had been nine months since I last saw her.

"Hi Nick."

*****

My relationship to Steph was complicated. It was 'to' and not 'with' because we'd never been a couple.

After COVID was mostly over we got a bunch of new hires. They replaced folks who were in the wave that retired or moved on after the pandemic. To a one they were under thirty, some more or less straight out of school, a few coming off a first job. Digital forensics is a growth industry; my company mostly worked with the financial sector. Steph's previous job was in finance doing analytics.

Being one of the senior people left, it fell to me to train the incoming employees. Some of them really weren't into the job for one reason or another. HR are a great bunch of liars, they'd tell you one thing, hire you and you find out you're doing something else; not a few punched out or transferred because of it. Some just weren't all that good. There were a few though that stood head and shoulders above the rest.

Steph Becker was one of them, the best of them. Smart, a fast learner, sometimes bloody single-minded, she was the definition of forensic, pulling things apart at the subatomic level and making sense of them. Not only was I a teacher and mentor to her but we also worked cases as part of a four person team. I learned quickly that her facility with the English language was beyond compare, she wasn't just funny, she was witty. Her ability to banter went beyond anything I'd ever seen before. I gave up trying to get the best of her.

*****

"Hey Steph. Come in."

She stepped into my apartment; she looked good tonight. As if she could be anything else.

"It all fell through?"

Steph nodded. "Just as predicted. Nothing." She looked down and away, lost staring at something only she could see.

In that moment I wanted just one small thing. To put my hand on her shoulder, to connect with her, nothing romantic, nothing sexual, just be there for her.

Steph looked up at me and I got lost in her eyes.

*****

Our team hit the road four or five times a year. Basically, we were living in each other's hip pockets sixteen, seventeen hours a day for a week at a time. We'd put in ten hour days and then find a local brewery and hang. Just because I was 15 years older than them didn't mean I couldn't match them beer for beer. I used to joke about having trained professionally. It was one of those things that sounds like a joke but it's the literal truth; the listener just doesn't know it. I came within inches of becoming an alcoholic because of a pile of shit I went through.

Spend that kind of time with people and you get to know them. Mostly. Steph didn't talk about her past a lot. I knew she came out of East Jesus Nowhere and a few other details here and there. Whether it was because of our age difference or she was just intensely private I never knew. I suspected it was a mix of the two.

Steph was scary smart; she had no peers. It got to the point where we finished each other's sentences, professionally speaking. So, we've got witty and smart. Only woman I've ever met who pulled off the hat trick; throw drop dead gorgeous into the mix.

She clocked in at 5' 5" with dirty blond hair, (she colored it), dark eyebrows and was frankly shapely, before her I'd never have looked twice at a curvy woman. Steph was quietly sensitive about her height, she always wore something with heels to them, boots being her first choice. Where some women might go for clothes that concealed their curves she took the opposite strategy; most days she wore form fitting jeans and looked good doing it. Her choice of tops didn't run as tight as the jeans; she was always exquisitely put together. I will never forget her heading out to a meeting one day in her jeans and boots, a green turtleneck under a blazer.

*****

"Let's sit down" I said.

Steph shucked off her jacket and dropped her purse. I'm convinced the Universe likes to play jokes on us. Only explanation for why she was wearing the green turtleneck.

*****

One day I was minding my own business at home when it hit me out of the blue; I realized I was attracted to Steph. I marveled at the feeling for about two seconds before starting an internal screaming fest with myself. There was the age difference, I was her mentor, and based on her excellent work I'd been trying to get her a promotion: how would it have looked if we were involved? I was a cautionary HR tale. Topping it all off was the fact that she was totally uninterested in me. I was seldom included in anybody's after work plans. Drinking on travel didn't translate into anything back home. Basically, I was a coworker and that was it.

I did a lot of research on crushes and yup, I had one bad. Interesting thing about crushes, basically you rewire your brain to dump a metric fuckton of dopamine and oxytocin into your system when you have any contact with your crush. Even a picture can do it. The most perverse thing about all this was that when I was with her, I knew I had zero romantic interest in her. And I'm the type that needs to be emotionally involved to have sex. I wondered at one point if because I couldn't have her, I convinced myself I didn't want her.

*****

Stephaine Becker in the flesh after nine months. Give an alcoholic a drink and you get the same result as what I was feeling. Literally. It's the same mechanism.

I looked at her and "I love you" went through my mind. My rational side kicked in and told the brain chemistry to fuck off.

I pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and held it up for her to see.

Steph just nodded. Vodka was our weapon of choice. Vodka is low in calories so she could watch her weight while getting anesthetized. It was a good cheap option for me.

She smiled when she saw the shot glasses. I brought them back from a trip. Steve from our team collected them so we all came home with them for a time. I put the glass in front of her, raised mine.

"To faithless friends."

She held her glass up in acknowledgement and agreement.

*****

Nine months later I still didn't know why she quit the company. I took her out for a farewell lunch, that included vodka, just the two of us, and asked. The answer I got back rambled, it didn't address the question. I wasn't going to press.

Management wanted to keep her so badly that they arranged to let her work out of a satellite office in a city proximate to East Jesus Nowhere. That lasted six months before she resigned. Steph knew it wouldn't work from the beginning, why she went through with it, who knows? There were a lot of people, so called friends, who had problems with her leaving. Evidently, they knew why she quit, or thought they did, and the reasons varied. Immaturity? Too entitled? Not enough praise? I didn't know and I didn't give a fuck. I knew she wasn't happy and I wanted her to be happy.

*****

We had another shot and decamped for the living room couch. Yeah, we brought the vodka with us. The boots came off and she tucked her legs under her. I did what I'd done so many times before, in the office, in meetings, in rental cars on trips; I looked at her when she wasn't looking, trying to burn her image into my brain. I guess I tried too hard because I never managed it.

Steph and I talked of nothing of consequence, old stories from work. Catching up on people who had moved on. We still didn't know each other, not in the ways that mattered.

*****

I hadn't been in touch with Steph for a couple of months; I was trying to let go. I decided to text her to say hi and see how her new life was going, I couldn't help myself. What passed for the conversation that followed was drawn out; I got a text once a day for a couple of weeks. She talked about maybe coming for a visit and seeing everyone again. Boom, it was like no time had passed; all the hormones hit. Communications remained spotty until a Thursday night, Friday morning really. It was 1 AM and my phone rang. I saw it was Steph.

"Hey Steph, what's up?"

"I need someone to talk to." Pretty sure I'd been drunk dialed. "Nobody's returning my texts, my calls, well Mandy and I talked but you know how she is."

"Yeah, I do. Why are they doin' it?"

"I dunno. Well Steve let on to her they were all mad at me. For leaving... I think."

Yup, drunk dialed.

"After nine months? What the fuck? Steve's an asshole anyway."

"He and Mandy are of a pair..." she said. There was a... tone in her voice.

She went quiet.

"Steph, what's going on? What do you need?"

"I'm sorry I bothered you Nick."

"There are worse things than laying in bed at one in the morning talking to you." Yeah, I actually said that.

Steph decided to travel up and get an explanation for why people so important to her were freezing her out.

*****

We'd each had a couple of shots when she decided to get confessional.

"You know I had a thing for you right." Said it just like they do in the movies.

Shit. "No, no I didn't." I was lying my ass off. I suspected maybe something was going on but I chalked it up to a student/teacher transference thing. Or wishful thinking. She continued.

"There were those times when we'd find each other across the room and... lock eyes, stare. We'd be somewhere crowded but we sat there talking to each other like the world didn't exist."

I nodded; I had told myself I was imagining things. My turn. "The weekend you texted you were leaving I got very, very drunk. I was useless those last days."

Steph motioned for me to hand her the vodka. She didn't bother with the wasted motion of filling a shot glass, she drank from the bottle. I got it back and did the same.

"So, Nick, you were basically lying about knowing." From her expression I could tell she didn't give a fuck. I shrugged. There was a hell of a lot of sexy in her expression.

"I thought maybe something was going on Steph. Hoped? I didn't think I could get that lucky... shit I don't know. It's not like you ever let on."

Steph reached over and took my hand, turning it palm up. She was looking at it and had this smile on her face but I couldn't tell what fueled it. Embarrassment? Wistfulness?

"Steve and I hooked up on trips a couple of times. You know him, he could sell sin to the Pope. I was stupid."

I knew him well. He talked about friendship like it was a sacred thing; it was as long as you were useful to him. Or admired him. Steve'd pulled it on me.

"Steph, you could have done so much better" slipped out of my mouth; I was jealous, I regretted saying it immediately.

"I could have done you." All I could see was her green eyes, piercing my soul. I didn't know how to parse that last sentence. Steph was tracing my palm with her other hand, slowly, doing little circles.

"I put it together; Mandy had begun to suspect him. Of cheating on her. I think she was the piece of ass he had on tap at home. Well, he probably did her when we were on the road too, he was a busy little motherfucker." Steph's fingers left my palm and glided up my forearm. She snorted with laughter. "I'm surprised he didn't try and get both of us in bed at the same time, the man has chutzpah.

"So, it's this big complicated thing, shit, practically a conspiracy, everybody suspecting something but never talking about it. No proof. House of cards. I couldn't take it anymore and punched out. Mandy and I were legit friends even after I left. I talked about coming to visit and I think Steve panicked about everyone finding out. I don't know what he said to her, them, cause he turned Scott and Roberta against me too. I think Mandy was afraid of Brian finding out." Brian was Mandy's de facto future husband. Steph looked me dead in the eye, her fingers stopped tracing.

"The only person I have left is you. You were always there. I think I was going to tell you all this the night I called, I dunno."

"I was always there for you. If I'd only known... "

"I know," she whispered. Steph bent over and kissed my palm. Picked my hand up, staring at it before she took my index finger in her mouth and sucked on it gently. I was in for a disbelieving ride. She let it go and ran her face gently along my hand ending with a kiss on the inside of my wrist. Subtly, perfectly, Steph had lined my hand up with her cheek.

I ran my thumb softly along her jawline. She leaned in and for the first time in nine months, outside of pictures, I saw Steph smile. Jesus those eyes. My other hand came up and I was holding her face like it was a Faberge egg. We had two choices for our first kiss; go slow and savor the moment, shoot for perfection or go at it hard and fast. It was no contest; it was a slow one. As to perfection? Crushed it.

Make no mistake, we picked up speed, there was no way not to but it was a graceful acceleration. I had my hands at her waist, fingers just under the edge of the turtleneck, brushing her skin. Steph ruffled my hair, as much as she could given its length. She was gently sucking on my lower lip when I pulled away from her.

"Let's go" was all I said.

Like high schoolers we stopped once along the way so that our tongues could dance together.

I flipped on the light switch and turned to her just inside the door. Steph's hands went around my neck and mine went under the turtleneck. How kisses could be so soft and unhurried but still insistent, is beyond me. Again, I pulled back from her.

With both hands I tugged her shirt upwards. Steph raised her arms to help. I knew from my foray a moment ago that she was wearing some kind of sports bra but I had no idea that it would look like this. It was an almost glowing pink, one of those bras built like a flak vest with a zipper at the front, plenty of support for her not insignificant chest.

I tossed the turtleneck off to one side while at the same time taking both her wrists in one hand, not letting her put her arms down. There was nothing rough or fast about it, we were moving at a speed where either one of us could direct or redirect events with ease. Steph and I were synced up in a way that I'd never been before with anyone. I intuitively knew she was feeling the same thing.

We continued kissing, Steph writhing fractionally against me. With my free hand I reached up and lowered the zipper. I won't lie, I always wondered what she looked like under those turtlenecks. I was not disappointed. Before I could do anything else she whispered to me.

"Leave it on."

Far be it for me to argue.

I let go of her wrists but she'd read my mind and left her arms extended. With the field cleared I leaned over sucked on her nipples. Steph moaned and her knees went weak momentarily. I kept going while unbuttoning my shirt.

Steph decided it was her turn to break away. My shirt disappeared like a magic trick. I felt her lips on one of my nipples; it was like I touched a live wire. Any other time, any other person it would have done nothing for me. Don't ask me what was different this time. Well of course it was different, it was Steph.

Steph was not shy about retaining the lead. My pants followed my shirt but she left my underwear in place, rubbing me over them. I was the one making the noises and shimmying now.

We tagged up and I was on point again. I gently swung her 180 degrees around so that the back of her legs were inches from the bed. I got her pants zipper down but figured that was the easy part; skintight jeans can be a challenge.

Still unhurried we joined forces to banish the denim. At one point she bent over and I caught a peek at part of the tattoo under her bra. I wanted a better look so I got her out of the flak vest.

I knew she had something on her left shoulder because on one of our trips, it was summertime, she'd taken off her jacket and the cut of her sleeveless shirt allowed me to catch sight of something on her skin. Whoever did it must moonlight as a brain surgeon. There were hair fine traces across her shoulder blade done in a concentric, swirling motif. They accented her skin instead of obscuring it. Normally I liken a tattoo on a beautiful woman to being akin to putting a bumper sticker on a Ferrari. Extending the metaphor, Steph's tattoo was delicate pinstriping.

We were both grinning like maniacs as we wrestled the jeans from her. It was difficult enough, especially with two people getting in each other's way, that it took effort but not so much that it ruined the moment.

Steph lay back on the bed, legs up so that I could finish pulling them off. Her shorts matched the color of the bra, clearly of a set, intended for exercise. She blushed at the whole act, a hand shyly covering her mouth for a moment. Then she sat up and relieved me of my briefs. At any other time, next up would be oral sex, God knows her face was right where it needed to be and I was clearly ready. Instead, she lay back and slid off her shorts, opening her thighs.

I'd wondered in the past if she had dark hair with dyed blond highlights or was a blond with dyed dark highlights. I got the answer to my question. And saw that she was more than ready for me. It was the reason why she skipped going down on me, (or me her for that matter); any more foreplay was superfluous.

I knelt on the bed and lowered myself onto her. We teased each other with kisses. Like with her jeans, we had a moment that almost made us laugh. Both of us were trying to get me into her and kept getting in each other's way.

"Will you just relax!' Steph mock barked, slapping my hands away.

Next thing I knew I was sliding into home. I wanted to take her sigh of contentment and bottle it. Like our first kiss, we went for finesse, to stretch the moment out in time, not rushing or forceful. I gently pinned her arms above her head, our fingers interlaced, and I began to thrust. My chest was cushioned by hers, her hard nipples rubbing against mine.

"God damn..." said Steph. We stopped kissing and stared at each other, our faces inches away. I might never be able to memorize her face but I'll never forget those eyes.

In the end, despite all good intentions for restraint, a measured pace, we sped up. I got insistent plunging into her. Steph breathed filthy words of encouragement. I'd love to say we got there at the same instant but not everything can be perfect. Just damn close.

Steph and I coasted to a stop. She gave me a light, innocent kiss on the lips. (As innocent as it gets with someone inside you). I brushed beautiful dirty blond hair out of her eyes. There was this delicate surface tension, if we never moved the moment would never end. Too bad reality doesn't work that way.

We lay next to each other, I ran a finger along her lower lip, she kissed it. Somehow super positioned was my former coworker and student who I used to see blearily jonesing for coffee in a hotel restaurant and the stunning woman in front of me, my dream come true. They were one and the same. Whoever that woman was who came into my home about a billion years ago was gone.

Then I came to a horrible realization. Stephanie was no more mine than when she had walked in. We were ghosting along on wish fulfillment and emotionally needy sex. I knew her no better than I did before, except for some little tawdry secrets. Her life was a few miles down the road from East Jesus Nowhere, I lived on the dark side of the Moon for all it mattered.

I gave Stephanie Becker a peck on the cheek and walked out of the bedroom. The bottle of vodka was right where I had left it. I picked it up and hefted it, like I might take a drink.

"You don't need that Nick."

Steph had followed me out. She stood wrapped in a blanket, head tilted to one side, hair mussed.

"Nothing's changed, not really. Why does it matter?"

"You mean you don't know?"

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

"There are worse things than laying in bed at one in the morning talking to you."