Jolene

The ballroom of the Belmont Hotel was packed, nearly wall to wall, with tables covered in pristine white linen, colorfully flowered centerpieces and elegant silver and china place settings. There were already well over two hundred guests, men wearing dark blue or grey suits with gold cufflinks, shiny black shoes and silk ties and women wearing expensive dresses with sequins and bows, cut to expose the exact amount of leg or cleavage needed to give the wearer whatever advantage necessary to outshine the competition, whoever she might be. The guests, many of who were already demonstrating various stages of inebriation, were milling about, coalescing together in multiple small groups to talk and laugh, sipping their drinks while pointing out and greeting new arrivals as they entered the room.

The ballroom was hung with banners announcing and celebrating the annual Spring Banquet of Prairieland Securities, a moderately large, relatively successful financial services firm that had had a very good year. Very nearly every salaried employee at the main office was expected to attend, to eat and drink, to socialize and celebrate and to listen to a few speeches about how well the company was doing and how grateful they should be to be working for such a dynamically successful firm.

Fifteen or so minutes before dinner was served, around the time the guests first started taking their seats at the tables, a slight stir animated the crowd when Frank Portis entered the room. Frank was widely recognized as the brightest and most aggressive of the young Turks, a man likely to be announced as the youngest ever division head sometime in the next few months. He was tall and muscular with an olive complexion, short dark hair with sharp, well defined features, handsome by almost any standard.

But, the attention he generated had more to do with whom he arrived with. On his arm, was Jolene Matthews, a woman who was nothing short of stunning, with rich copper-red hair that fell in masses of long curls halfway down her back, deep green Irish eyes set against flawless, unblemished alabaster skin and a figure of soft voluptuous curves that defined the very essence of feminine sensuality. She was wearing a midnight black dress with forest green trim that tastefully accentuated her curves and an elegant pearl necklace that divided her perfect body from her perfect face. Everything about her appearance demanded attention and, as if by command, the men as well as the women stopped abruptly to take in her beauty as she briefly paused with Frank at the entrance before they plunged into the heart of the ballroom.

Somewhere near the rostrum a huge bear of a man, with long dark brown hair and a wild, bushy beard waved to Frank and caught his attention. Frank turned to Jolene and motioned toward the bear. "Hey, there's Paul. Why don't you head that way and I'll pick up something to drink. White wine ok?"

Jolene nodded and flashed a fluorescent smile before moving toward the front of the ballroom while Frank made his way to the bar, negotiating the high class obstacle course of tables and waiters and guests.

As he neared the bar, his progress was impeded by a mass of slow moving people that were waiting and shuffling in what amounted to a poorly organized line. Frustrated by the lack of movement, Frank let his mind wander, mentally separating himself from the crowd with daydreams about triumphs at work and on the golf course as well as thoughts about Jolene . The line hadn't moved more than a few feet before his self-imposed disconnectedness was interrupted by a vague impression that he'd heard his name called. When he heard it clearly a second time he turned and was startled to see the smiling face of his best friend from high school, aged 11 years since graduation and 2 years since he'd seen him last.

Bobby Mullins was easy to remember, with great white horse teeth shining under a full mustache, laughing eyes, prematurely crinkled around the edges from smiling and from sun, and oiled, jet black hair, combed straight back. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, burgundy tie and a silk shirt and looked as slick as anybody else in the room; but his speech and mannerisms were those of a southern Illinois country boy, raised among soy and corn fields rather than concrete and asphalt.

"Bobby? I'll be damned, man it's good to see you. What...what are you doing in town?" Frank reached for Bobby's left shoulder and pulled him closer as he shook his right hand.

"I just got here, came up for the party Franky."

"Wait, you came all the way up from St. Louis for a party? That's a long ways to come for free food and booze, even for you." Frank laughed and shook his head as he let go of Bobby's hand.

"Hey, I'm entitled. Just because nobody expects the peons from the St. Louis office to show, doesn't mean we won't. I figured you Chicago people were holding out on us all these years so I wanted to see what I was missing."

They engaged in small talk for a few more minutes before the line finally budged and they both took a couple of steps forward. Frank continued the conversation.

"So, Bobby, how are things outside of work? You still dating a new girl every month?"

"I don't know, hard to keep track, but that might be about the right average." Bobby grinned mischievously. "Sooner or later, I'll grow up and settle down, but not for a while."

Bobby and Frank both chuckled and then, with some hesitation, Bobby quietly asked. "So, how is life treating you, Frank? Things ok?"

Frank paused long enough to indicate that he didn't have a simple or easy answer to the question. He pursed his lips tightly and ran a hand through his hair before starting to respond.

"Well, things are...sort of ok...now. I don't know if you've heard or not, but Becky and I are...well, we aren't together now."

Bobby frowned but showed no real surprise. "I...uh...I heard that. I'm sorry Frank. Tough break."

"Yep. It is." There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Frank awkwardly broke it by asking who Bobby had brought to the gala.

"Oh, I came stag, Franky. But I'm hoping I won't leave that way." Bobby was gleaming while he said it, smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows suggestively when he finished.

"Typical," Frank said shaking his head. "Some things never change."

They were at the front of the line now and Frank ordered two white wines and Bobby got a beer. Frank gestured in the general direction of the rostrum and Jolene. "Hey, Bobby, I'm with someone tonight, but why don't you eat with us. Naturally, she's off limits, but maybe somebody else might sit at the table..."

"Oh, I'd never horn in on your action, Franky. But, yeah, I'd love to eat with you. Show me the way." Bobby raised his beer bottle to his friend and tipped it in a mock toast.

--0--

"Happy Anniversary Baby."

Becky was smiling at Frank across the table, her light brown hair in soft curls, spilling down to her shoulders and framing her face of small childlike features, a face that would have been considered beautiful except for a weak chin and a few too many freckles. She was wearing an elegant black dress and her left hand was unconsciously fingering a string of pearls around her neck, a gift she had just received from Frank, while her right hand held up a champagne glass in a toast.

Frank, brought his glass up to meet hers, smiling, admiring his wife. "To us...forever."

They clinked glasses and sipped the bubbly, pale yellow champagne as the setting August sun cast streaks of rose and orange through the window and across the white tablecloth.

"This is a beautiful restaurant, a beautiful evening Frank. Thank you so much...for everything...for the pearls and...and, everything."

"It's the least I can do for my wife, the woman I love, for someone as beautiful as you are." He nodded toward her body appreciatively. "I love the way you look in that dress. You should wear it more often."

She blushed and giggled. "This is a special dress, for special occasions. I wouldn't want to dilute the magic it has or the spell over you might weaken."

"Well, the dress certainly helps, but the spell is mostly cast by what's under it." Frank gave her a lecherous grin.

A waiter approached and ostentatiously placed salads on the table and then made a great show of grinding pepper over each one before refilling the champagne glasses and then backing away, mumbling some congratulations about their anniversary.

Frank took a bite and, while chewing slowly, contemplated Becky's right forearm with some curiosity. After swallowing, he gestured to it with his empty fork.

"What's that there on your arm? Is that a rash?"

"Yes. Just a little poison ivy I think. I think I got it at the NetSol picnic while I was taking a walk around the pond."

"Oh, yeah, I lost track of you there for a while. You know, that's a very nice park, and I loved that pond."

"Yes, I could tell. I think you were out on that canoe for a couple of hours." Becky frowned a little and stabbed aggressively at a piece of lettuce.

"Yeah, that was a lot of fun, I'd like to do that again."

Becky pressed her lips together in thought and then, with a sudden earnestness, looked to Frank and blurted out:

"You know I love you, don't you Frank? That you are the only man for me?"

The unexpected forcefulness of Becky's declaration took Frank by surprise and puzzled him slightly. He cocked his head and wrinkled his brow in response, regarded Becky for a moment and then softly replied.

"Yes. And I love you." He leaned across the table until his face was less than a foot from Becky's and continued. "But our relationship is more than love. We're comfortable with each other; we like each other and need each other too." He gently touched the side of her face. "And we have trust. No matter what, after knowing each other for all this time, we both have each other's absolute trust."

Becky's smile faltered slightly when he said that and she glanced down to her salad, breaking away from his gaze awkwardly.

--0---

When Frank arrived with the wine Jolene smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, whispering thanks before taking a sip. Frank, with Bobby in tow, had found her in a group with Paul and half a dozen other people, all of who were listening, with evident boredom, to a short, somewhat rotund woman featuring unnaturally blond hair and one chin too many as she described, with exhausting detail, the various events and sites she and her husband, encountered in their most recent European vacation.

Her husband, a portly Vice-President named Duncan, was as a bored as anyone else and took the opportunity to greet Frank loudly and shake his hand with gusto, effectively interrupting his wife's monologue. While she waited impatiently for a chance to take center stage again, all the would-be listeners followed Duncan's lead, greeting and introducing each other to Frank and to Bobby who joined the circle of unknown people like they were old friends.

Paul Jensen, the great bear of a man, introduced himself and his date, a tiny woman with jet black hair and a pretty face named Angie Simmons, as friends and colleagues of Frank. Bobby got Paul laughing immediately with a double entendre about being jealous of his size and managed to make Angie blush with pleasure when he commented about how he now understood the saying about good things coming in small packages.

When Bobby was introduced to Jolene, he raised his eyebrows and let his breath out through pursed lips in a low, soft whistle, eliciting more laughs when he turned to Frank and said, "Looks like the Little Mermaid grew up real good. Nice catch Franky boy, nice catch."

The two other individuals in the group were an older couple who, if he'd carried a pitchfork and she'd worn her hair in a bun, could have been taken directly from American Gothic. They were not nearly so easy to charm and took in the greetings humorlessly, engaging in the minimum amount of interaction possible without seeming rude before slipping away unobtrusively, managing in one move to avoid talking with the younger couples whom they had little in common with and avoiding any additional travel stories from Duncan's plump, blond wife.

Unfazed by their departure, Bobby continued to enthusiastically exchange stories of introduction, effectively engaging everyone but Duncan's wife, who seemed more than a little put out when it became apparent that none of the group was particularly interested in hearing any more about her European exploits. Eventually, with poorly concealed annoyance, Mrs. Double-chin declared that she was going to find the table with the other Vice-Presidents and their wives. She left ahead of Duncan who lingered behind just long enough to quietly say, "Well, shit, now I have to hear all this again."

--0---

"I'm sorry I've been such a bitch lately."

Frank had just arrived home and Becky was smiling coyly at him, sitting in a reclining chair that had been positioned just inside the front door, her legs crossed, her hands resting on either arm of the chair, her hair piled high on her head. She was wearing a white corset as well as black, thigh high stockings, outrageous high heels and dramatic makeup with wet red lips and smoky eye shadow.

Frank hesitated a moment before raising his eyebrows, finally answering with an exaggerated leer.

"Well, either you're wearing a very naughty Halloween costume, or I'm about to get lucky."

"Halloween was last week, baby. So I think it's fair to say that I'm wearing this for luck." She laughed softly, making a sound like a confident cat, purring seductively to get its way.

Frank hung his coat up without taking his eyes off her. "So I take it that after playing the nun for weeks, you're suddenly interested in sex."

Becky pouted slightly, and rose from the chair, draping her arms loosely over Frank's shoulders. "I'm sorry for that, like I said, I've been a bitch. I have every intention of making it up to you right away. And in the most sincere method possible."

He put his hands on either side of her waist, squeezing her through the corset slightly and pulled her tightly to him, smelling her perfume and feeling her body tremble slightly. He put his lips to her ear and felt the soft flesh of her cheek against his face.

"So, you think that after totally denying me sex with all sorts of lame excuses, you can just get me back into bed by putting on some lingerie and crooking your finger?"

She pulled back away to examine his face and she found he was smiling, but his eyebrows were raised in expectation of an answer.

"Why, yes Mr. Portis, yes I did." She said with a syrupy sweet tone of mock innocence.

"And you thought I'd forget all that rejection and your weak excuses to avoid sex and just jump into bed? You think I'm that easy?"

"Well, you are a man, doesn't that make you easy by definition?"

He laughed suspiciously and shook his head. "Honestly, you run so hot and cold lately, you just mystify me sometimes."

"Yes, well, I am running hot tonight, so be happy for that. And, I am a woman, so part of my job is to mystify you." She smiled and winked at him and, with a sultry walk, led him into the bedroom.

30 minutes later Becky and Frank were both nakedly intertwined, covered with a thin layer of sweat, their clothes haphazardly discarded on the floor, desperately and aggressively kissing and stroking, licking and sucking each other. Wordlessly, Frank gripped Becky by the shoulders, pushed her onto her back, separated her legs with his right thigh and moved on top of her. He looked directly into her eyes, watching her reaction as he entered her, slowly at first and then with more and more aggression, building into a powerful, relentless, insistent rhythm. She wrapped her legs and arms around him and matched his movement, pushing as hard or harder than he was, grunting softly with each thrust of her hips.

Frank was moaning loudly now, his eyes screwed shut, his face contorted in pleasure, losing control of the moment, control of the rhythm, control of his own thought processes as he buried himself over and over inside of her. And then, suddenly, he became aware that she wasn't pushing back. In fact, she wasn't making any movements at all, and the abrupt loss of resistance, of counterthrust, was like the ground underneath him had suddenly given way.

He opened his eyes and saw that she was simply lying under him, with a look on her face he couldn't quite place. Disappointment? Boredom? Distraction? Somewhere else entirely? He nearly lost his erection, but it had been so long since he'd had sex, he pushed forward and finished himself inside her as expeditiously and clinically as he could. What had started as a passionate sexual encounter had suddenly deteriorated into something that wasn't much more than a masturbation session and he felt a burning sense of frustration and dissatisfaction. He rolled off of her as soon as he was done and she wordlessly turned away, curling into a slight ball, her back facing him.

Frank reached out and touched her shoulder. "What happened there? You totally bailed out on me at the end there. "

"Sorry, I guess I got tired." Her voice was hollow, soulless.

"Tired? Bullshit Becky. I think you just lost interest. Did I bore you? Is sex with me really that bad?"

"You came, why are you complaining?" She asked with a sharp, petulant edge.

Stunned at her attitude, he stared at her back incredulously for a few moments before answering. "I don't know what the hell is going on, Becky, but it's got to change. It has to change quickly."

Becky let his words hang in the air for a few moments and then softly replied, "Yes. Yes it does."

----0----

The group had just claimed a table when the harried wait staff started delivering plates of salmon, beef and chicken, practically throwing the dishes on the table in a desperate attempt to serve the roomful of guests more or less simultaneously. As the waiters attacked their table, the ensuing noise and chaos from the clattering plates, flying hands and rapid fire questions about food choice made conversation something of a challenge.

"So, Paul," Bobby half shouted as he nodded with a smile to a sweating young man who had just deposited a plate of chicken in front of him. "How long have you been at Prairie?"

Paul pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling for a moment, thinking. "I guess 12 years now. I joined up right out of college. I started in research, but got transferred to the small accounts division around 5 years ago, about the time Frank started. We've been stuck together since then."

"Things going good?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. Management seems to be happy." Paul nodded casually over to Frank. "They seem to think our boy here walks on water."

Bobby opened his eyes in mock surprise. "Wait...what? He can't actually walk on water? I always thought he did."

Jolene nodded to the waiter who dropped a plate of salmon in front of her then looked to Bobby and smirked. "Maybe he's slipped since you've known him."

"Well, it's hard to imagine he's gotten any more magnificent. He was always Mr. Wonderful in high school. Top of the class. Best athlete. Most popular. Most likely to succeed. I hung around just to bask in his glory and to try and pick up any of his table scraps."

Frank, laughingly challenged Bobby. "A little exaggeration there, maybe? If I remember right, you were a pretty good jock yourself. And those girls you, uh, 'spent time with' weren't exactly table scraps; one of them was the prom queen and, if I remember correctly, another one was a Miss Illinois contestant."

"Ah, whatever Frank." Bobby waved his hand dismissively but playfully at his old friend. "The results speak for themselves. One of us ended up at Northwestern on a full ride football scholarship and then ends up in the MBA program at the U of C, while the other goes to Eastern Illinois as a walk-on and barely graduates."