The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

Friends and Benefits, Chapter Five

I spent the drive back to my place analyzing Sherri�s motives, while she followed in her own car. I didn�t get it. I wasn�t paying her any more, at least tonight, but she wasn�t saying �thank you� and walking away. None of the professional shrinks I had heard of ever extended their hours for free. I just didn�t get it.

I didn�t say anything while we got settled. I poured myself a glass of wine and offered Sherri some, but she declined, only wanting water. We settled onto the couch this time, far more comfortable than the kitchen chairs.

�So why are you doing this?� I asked.

�Because I can,� she answered.

�That doesn�t make sense,� I shot back. �You could be doing lots of things. Why me? Why for free? Why come back here instead of going to see some other guy who would pay you?�

�You need me.� Sherri�s face was blank. No, not blank, controlled. I glared at her. It was almost a staring match. Which she then decided to throw.

�Tonight, Joe,� she said, �it suits me to spend some more time with you. I�ve made the money I need to make this week and I don�t have any other pressing appointments. If I wasn�t here, I�d either be home or waiting for the next cold call from the agency. I didn�t feel like going on any new dates tonight.�

�Why?� I challenged. My gut was starting to churn and my breathing was getting shallower. Sherri noticed.

�Why would I want to spend time with you?� she asked. �You�re an interesting guy, Joe. You remind me of my baby brother.� For a moment, old pain crossed her face.

�Besides,� she continued. �I can help, and it won�t always be for free. I�ll let you know beforehand so you can decide what you want to do.�

�Thanks,� I snorted.

�C�mon, Joe! You were just complaining because I wasn�t charging you!� I glanced over and saw that Sherri was smiling. Teasing me. I took a deep breath and smiled back. I could feel my body start to relax.

�So where were we?� she asked. �In your story?�

�November of 1991,� I answered. �Just a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, when I got a call that wasn�t from Sharon or my parents . . .�

* * *

�Hey, bud.� I recognized the voice immediately.

�Allen! What�s up?�

�Not much. My mom moved to San Diego and she wants me to come visit for Thanksgiving. I thought I�d take a week or two and drive out, stopping in Tucson along the way.�

�That�s great!� I replied. �You�re welcome to crash here.�

�Good. That�s why I�m calling.�

�So when do you think you�ll be here?� I asked.

�Mmmm. I�m thinking the Monday before Thanksgiving. I�m going to spend that weekend in Las Cruces with this girl I met over Labor Day. When she has to go to work, I�ll get on the road to go see you. It�s what, four hours?�

�Closer to six.�

�Okay, I�ll be there mid-afternoon.�

�Sounds good,� I replied. �Let me give you directions.�

�Let me get a pencil,� Allen replied. He was back in a minute. I gave him the information and we discussed logistical issues. My apartment was too small for a couch, but Allen said the inflatable air mattress would be fine for one night.

We chatted a little bit more and Allen told me about his job hunt. Apparently bartending wasn�t cutting it anymore, but he hadn�t figured out what he wanted to do next. I commiserated and told him about my own change of academic plans. I asked him about the girl he was visiting, but he said he�d tell me the whole story in person. We hung up a little while later and silence again filled my apartment. When I couldn�t stand it, I turned on the TV to catch a rerun of �Night Court.�

I talked to Sharon two nights later. My most recent story package hadn�t reached her yet and we mostly talked about our week. The conversation started to lull fairly quickly since neither of us had had much excitement. I wracked my brain for newsworthy topics.

�Oh, and Allen called. He�s coming to visit,� I said.

�Really?�

�Yeah, his mom moved to San Diego. He�s on his way to visit her for Thanksgiving. He�ll be here Monday night.�

�How�s he doing?� Sharon asked.

�Pretty good. We didn�t talk long. I�m sure we�ll talk more when he gets here.�

�I hope he�s doing well. I worry about him sometimes.�

�What? Why?�

�Hey, I still care for him,� Sharon defended. �We may not be together, but I still want him to be happy.�

�I think he�s happy,� I answered.

�Yeah, well, he�s good at hiding his feelings when he�s unhappy.�

I bit my tongue. I�d known Allen a while and I�d never had any problem knowing when he was unhappy. But I knew that if I said so, Sharon would just claim that he was successful in hiding his feelings with me. Since I couldn�t win the argument, there was no point in starting it.

�Well, maybe he�ll tell me about it if he�s not,� I said.

�I hope so,� Sharon replied.

�Anyway,� I said, �it�ll be good to see him. We didn�t really get together often enough my senior year.�

�You were always with Alicia.�

�Yeah.� My heart sank, thinking of those times. �I wonder what other friendships suffered because I was so wrapped up in my romance.�

�Well, our friendship hasn�t,� Sharon stated. �You�ve become a really great friend.�

�You too,� I replied.

�Thanks.�

After a pause, I realized I Sharon hadn�t told me about her Thanksgiving plans. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she was going to Albuquerque. We traded a few extended family stories before calling it a night.

The next two weeks flew by. It was getting cooler; the nice part of the year for Tucson. I got back to my apartment by two p.m. the day Allen was due. He arrived at four.

�Took you long enough,� I kidded him.

�Well, she wanted to go another round this morning,� Allen replied, grinning. �She ended up being late to work.� I rolled my eyes.

�So tell me about this woman,� I asked. �Is it serious?�

�Nah,� he answered. �We�re just �good friends.�� I chuckled.

�Must be pretty �good� for her to be willing to be late to work,� I quipped.

�Ohhh, yeahhh,� he replied.

�So tell me about her,� I asked.

�Her name�s Jenna. She�s a massage therapist, going to school part time at New Mexico State. She was up visiting her sister, who just started at CU, and we met at a party. She�s got this incredible smile�and a great ass. We hit it off and, well, she gave me her phone number the next morning.�

�The next morning? Not that night?�

�Yeah. She gave it to me when I dropped her off back at her sister�s dorm,� he answered. I just chuckled and shook my head.

�So you stayed in touch,� I said. He nodded.

�We talked a couple of times. When Mom asked me to come down, I gave her a call and suggested I stop by.�

�And she was all for it,� I mused.

�Oh, yeah.�

�I don�t know how you do it, Allen.�

�It�s a gift,� he replied with a broad grin. I just started chuckling.

�So this is your place?� Allen asked after a pause.

�Yeah, let me give you the nickel tour. This is the main room�kitchenette, table, TV, some space to crash on the floor that will be occupied by the air mattress later.� I led Allen down what tried to pass for a hallway. All five feet of it.

�The bathroom,� I said, gesturing through the open door. �The towels on the back of the toilet are yours.� Two more steps brought us to the last room.

�And the bedroom.�

�You happy with a single bed?� Allen asked.

�It�s the only size that�ll fit,� I answered. Allen didn�t comment, thankfully. We headed back to the main room. Allen glanced around again.

�You need to hang something there,� he said, pointing to the wall where Melissa Etheridge had once hung. �It�s too big of a bare spot.�

�Well, I used to have a poster there, but it was one Alicia gave me, so I took it down. All of the stuff that brought back memories of her is now buried in the closet.�

�Smart move.�

�So,� I said, changing the subject, �we have a couple of hours before dinner. How about I show you campus?�

Allen gave a non-committal shrug, which I decided to take as a yes. I locked up and we headed over to campus. I tried to point out interesting features as we wandered around, but the truth was, I didn�t really know the campus. I didn�t know much of Tucson either. How I had let that happen?

Because I�d spent last year either getting my brains pounded out by the schoolwork or pining for Alicia. I needed to get out more.

Once we got to the west end of campus, Allen and I wandered into the little shopping area that had grown up there. A handful of restaurants, all cheap, plus the usual assortment of t-shirt and memorabilia shops.

�Hey, a poster store,� Allen pointed out. �You need one. Let�s go in.�

�Sure.�

We wandered in, glancing at the framed prints on the wall and occasionally thumbing through the bins of unframed posters. Allen stopped at a bin labeled �humor� so I pushed on back toward the end of the store. I saw it hanging on the wall just a few feet from the counter.

It was six vertical panels, in blues, greys, and blacks. The left three were of James Spader�s face. The next two were of him with Andie McDowell. The final panel was Andie alone, looking sad. Of course the title, sex, lies, and videotape, filled the bottom half. I studied the expressions. Both looked haunted. Both looked familiar.

�You like it?� a feminine voice asked.

�I�ve never seen this version,� I answered, not pulling my eyes off the poster.

�It�s the European Quad. They didn�t hang it over here.�

�Really?� I asked. Then I turned and saw her.

She was standing behind the counter. Dark hair, big wide eyes, Hispanic features. She was grinning at me. I smiled back.

�Really,� she said. �I asked the owner to order it because I liked the movie.�

�You did?� I exclaimed. �I loved it!� She smiled even wider.

�Did you know that they rehearsed it, like a play, before they started filming?� she asked. �That�s part of why I liked it.�

�I thought the script was great,� I replied. �Good characters. Incredibly tight dialogue.�

�Garbage,� she said, quoting the first line of the movie. �I can�t stop thinking about all the garbage.� We gave each other the silly grins that only newfound mutual fandom inspires.

�Hi, I�m Allen.� Somewhere during our dialogue, Allen had appeared at my shoulder.

�Oh, and I�m Joe.�

�Tina,� she replied, giving a small nod of her head to Allen before turning back to me.

�I also loved the line about not wanting more keys on his key ring,� she said.

�That was a good one,� I added. �Not as good as �get your balls in the air and get over here.�� Tina laughed at my exaggerated voice, trying to mimic Laura San Giacomo. Allen cleared his throat. Tina gave him a quick glance before turning back to me.

�It�s only one hundred and fifty dollars, framed,� she said. My breath caught.

�Uh, I�ll have to think about that.�

�Okay. Feel free to look around.�

The phone on the desk rang and Tina picked it up. I turned back to the poster and admired it for a little while longer. Tina�s phone call was taking a while so I started thumbing through a nearby stack of movie posters. Allen was wandering back toward the door. Tina glanced up, but was still busy writing down the order. I wanted to talk with her more, but I also didn�t want to interrupt her. Eventually, I let the posters drop and followed Allen out. He looked at me quizzically, but didn�t say anything. We headed back to my apartment.

�What are you in the mood for for dinner?� I asked.

�Anything but Mexican. I had plenty of that over the weekend.�

�Yeah, I�ll bet you ate well,� I joked. Allen just rolled his eyes.

�Well,� I began, �the only non-Mexican non-fast food restaurant I�ve been to is the Bluebird Caf�. It�s general American food and it�s pretty good.�

�The only one? You need to get out more, my man.�

�Yeah,� I agreed, feeling a little guilty.

We headed out to dinner, which Allen enjoyed. Afterward we found a bar with a pool table and played a handful of games. We got back to my apartment before it got too late.

When we got there, Allen threw his bag against one wall and I dragged the wadded up air mattress out of the closet. We spread it out on the floor and Allen turned to me.

�So, do you have a pump for this thing?� Allen asked.

�Yeah, under the bed. Why don�t you get it while I check for leaks?� I mentally kicked myself for not checking it earlier.

Allen scrambled to his feet while I began examining the seams closely. I�d had problems before but knew what to look for now. I�d gotten two sides checked when Allen came back.

�Joe, when did you take these?�

�Huh?� I scrambled to my feet to see Allen flipping through a stack of photographs. Oh, shit! Sharon�s pictures! I�d just tucked them under my bed after the last time I�d been looking at them, figuring that was safe enough. I�d forgotten them and then sent Allen . . . shit shit shit.

�When did you take these pictures of Sharon?� Allen repeated. �I assume you took them.�

�Oh, uh, after we went out to dinner last summer. I suggested the photos of her in the dress. She . . . uh, suggested the other outfit.�

�She looks hot.�

�Well, you should know, you dated her.�

�Yeah, she did have a great body,� he agreed. �Does, I guess.�

�Yes, she does.�

Allen finished thumbing through the photos, looked at a couple of them a second time, almost studying them, and then set the stack down on the table.

�Well, I�d certainly sleep with her again, if I could do it without all the rest of her baggage.�

�I thought you loved her,� I said. Allen gave a non-committal shrug.

�Maybe at first. But near the end, I felt like I couldn�t breathe. I had to get out.�

�So why didn�t you talk to her?�

�I tried,� he said. �Anyway, there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Something you should be finding out.�

�God, I don�t even know how to start down here. It�s not like I can just throw a party like we used to and have them show up in droves.�

�So ask the girl at the poster shop out. Tina.� I just looked at Allen.

�What?�

�Seriously, man. I saw the way she smiled at you when you were talking about the poster. Ask her out.�

�I don�t know,� I replied. �I don�t feel ready.�

�You�ll never feel ready. No guy ever does. You just have to ask anyway.�

�Yeah, well, I�ll think about it.�

�Good.�

Allen yawned and glanced pointedly at the air mattress.

�I didn�t get much sleep last night. Let�s get that thing inflated.�

�Sure.�

With that, we got back to work. There weren�t any leaks and the mattress inflated fairly quickly. I got Allen some sheets and one of the pillows from my bed and he started unpacking his overnight bag.

�See you in the morning,� I called, heading for my bedroom. Allen nodded but didn�t speak. I snagged Sharon�s pictures on my way out and shoved them in the back of a drawer where they�d be harder to accidentally stumble across. I slept fitfully that night.

The next morning Allen got on the road early. He helped me put the mattress away, grabbed a cup of coffee, and was gone.

The phone rang shortly after I finished dinner that night. It was Sharon.

�How are you doing, Joe?� she asked.

�Fine. What�s up?�

�Oh, I just wanted to see how you were doing.�

�Well, like I said, fine. Allen and I had a good visit. He�s doing well.�

�Good to hear,� Sharon replied.

�Yeah, it was a good visit.�

�So what did you do?� Sharon asked.

�Oh, wandered campus. Had dinner, played some pool. Nothing special.� Actually there was. Was I willing to mention it? I gritted my teeth. I really had to. While she hadn�t said the pictures were for �my eyes only,� I was sure she�d be pissed that they hadn�t stayed that way.

�Sounds like a low-key time,� Sharon said, while I was gathering my courage.

�Uhh, listen, Sharon, Allen saw the pictures.�

�Pictures?�

�The ones of you, in the teddy.� I let out a deep breath, but was still incredibly tense. �I had them under my bed and I forgot that the air mattress pump was there and . . . well, he found them. I�m sorry.�

�Did he like them?� Sharon asked. I was surprised--her tone wasn�t angry at all.

�Well, uh, yeah. The good ones at least.�

Sharon muttered something too low for me to hear.

�You�re not mad?� I asked.

�What exactly did he say?� she asked.

�He said you were hot. That you had a great body.�

�Glad he still thinks so,� she sighed.

�I thought you�d want every guy to find you hot,� I commented. Sharon laughed.

�Well, sure! Actually, not necessarily every guy. There are some pretty creepy guys out there.�

�Yeah, but you can avoid them.�

�True.�

�And anyway, Allen found you hot. I find you hot. What more do you need?� I asked.

�My next boyfriend to think I�m hot,� she answered.

�How�s that going?� I asked.

�Dating? Not well. No interesting guys in any of my classes. I�d really like to get asked out soon.�

�I�ll ask you out,� I interjected. Sharon laughed.

�Thanks, Joe, but I�m not desperate yet.�

�Hey!�

�I don�t want to ruin our friendship,� she explained. �It�s too important to me.�

�Oh, okay then.� I still felt shot down, but that took a lot of the sting out of it.

�Allen said I should ask someone here out,� I continued. �A woman we met yesterday.�

�Go for it!� Sharon exclaimed.

�Well, I dunno. I�m not sure I�m ready.�

�What have you got to lose, Joe?�

�Not much,� I admitted.

�All right then,� she replied, as if the decision was now made. I decided to change the subject.

�When do you leave for Albuquerque?� I asked.

�Tomorrow afternoon. Then back up on Friday, because I have to work Saturday. This is a quick visit.�

�I�m going to an �orphan�s Thanksgiving� that one of the other grad students is hosting. I�m supposed to bring wine.�

�Something you�re good at.�

�Yeah. It�s not like going home, but it�ll be okay.�

�I�m not sure I�m going to make it home this time,� Sharon said. �My car�s been having problems. I�m hoping it won�t break down on the way.�

�Oh? Tell me about them.�

Sharon started to explain her car�s symptoms, but since I have very little mechanical aptitude, I quickly was reduced to speculations and semi-logical deductions. The conversation then drifted to stories of our old vehicles and learning to drive and a while later, we ended the call. I read some stories online and called it a night.

I thought a lot about Allen�s and Sharon�s comments the next day. Maybe I was ready to start dating. It had been six months. Time to get back on the horse?

The problem was, I sucked at asking women out. I got all nervous and my palms got sweaty. I tended to talk too fast and I always said the wrong thing. It was a minor miracle that I�d had any girlfriends at all.

Of course it wasn�t really miraculous. My high school girlfriend and I had been set up by a mutual friend. Alicia had come to a party that Allen had organized and somehow ended up sitting next to me when Allen had declared it time for The Blues Brothers. She�d been the one to take my hand before the film ended.

The thought of asking someone like Tina out terrified me. Sharon�s idea of �friends first� held a lot of attraction.

I continued wrestling with the idea of asking Tina out all through Thanksgiving. On Friday, I figured I�d at least walk by the poster shop. If she wasn�t there, then I could tell Sharon that I�d tried and that would be the end of it.

Walking across campus that afternoon, I could feel the adrenaline kick in. My pulse was racing, I had to consciously take deep breaths. I tried to be causal as I strolled by the door, glancing in.

Tina was behind the counter, reading a magazine.

A half block beyond the shop, I stopped and took a deep breath. I could ask about the poster. Yeah, that�d get a conversation started. I turned around and strolled back.

�Hey!� Tina called, seeing me enter. �You back for the poster?�

�Uh, yeah!� I answered, with a small nod of my head.

�Oh, you�ll love it!� she gushed. �Where are you going to hang it?�

�Living room,� I answered. �Main room, actually. My place is pretty small.� Tina nodded.

�I know what you mean about small. My dorm room doesn�t have enough wall space to hang all my posters, even if my roommate let me use her half of the room.�

�So you live in the dorms?� I asked.

�Yeah. I figured that would be a good thing to do for my first year. I may move off campus after that.�

�Your first year? You�re a freshman?�

�Sure am!� she answered. I didn�t know what to say to that, so I just stood there.

�So how do you want it framed?� Tina asked.

�Uhh, don�t we just take it off of the wall?�

�That�s the display copy,� she explained. �You don�t want that one, there�s a scratch in the glass. See.� She pointed to a thin line about three inches long that I hadn�t seen before.

�Well we can�t have that,� I joked.

�No we can�t!� said Tina. �So what would you like?�

�What are my choices?� I asked.

Tina proceeded to walk me through all the various matting and framing options. I picked and she made notes. After about twenty minutes we had the main part of the order form filled in and she turned to the top.

�I�m sorry,� she said. �What was your name again?�

�Joe. As in Average Joe. G.I. Joe. Joe Schmo.�

�And Joe Cool,� she added. I smiled.

�And Joe Cool,� I agreed.

�Have to be, to like Soderbergh,� she said, glancing down at the poster again, �he�s going to be a big director some day. Just wait.� I just smiled.

Tina got my phone number for the form and did the totals. I gave her my credit card to pay for the deposit and made a mental note to ask Mom and Dad for cash for Christmas this year.

�Okay. We�re all done, at least for now,� Tina said. �It will be ready Wednesday.�

�Wednesday it is,� I agreed. I turned and walked to the door.

I hadn�t asked her out. Oh well, I�d see her in a few days. I could do it then.

Of course, that was Sharon�s first question when we talked on Monday.

�Did you ask that woman out?� she asked, a few minutes into our conversation.

�The woman from the poster shop? Not yet.�

�Well, are you going to?�

�I�m not sure. It turns out she�s a freshman. That makes her 18. I�m 24.�

�So?�

�That�s a big age difference.�

�No, it�s not, Joe.�

�Besides,� I said, �I �m trying to get out of Tucson. She�s just starting here.�

�What difference does that make? You�re not asking her to marry you.�

�Yeah . . . ,� I admitted.

�Ask her out,� Sharon urged.

�Okay, I�ll see her again Wednesday. I can ask her out then.�

�Good,� she replied. �So, are you coming back to Colorado for Christmas?�

�Wouldn�t miss it. I should be there about two weeks.�

�That�d be great! When do you get here?�

�I should be there the weekend before Christmas. The 20th, I think. My flight back is the weekend after New Year�s.�

�We�re going down to Albuquerque on the 23rd, back on the 28th. Do you want to get together before then? Exchange Christmas gifts?� Christmas gifts? We hadn�t exchanged presents the previous year.

�Sure! How about Saturday the 21st?�

�It�s a date! And Joe . . .�

�Yes?�

�The gift I want to get you is a little risqu�. I hope that�s okay.� I laughed.

�It�s okay with me if it�s okay with you!� I replied. Sharon chuckled.

�Oh, it�s okay with me,� she answered.

�Great. Can I get you something naughty in return?� I asked. That brought a full blown burst of laughter.

�Sure! As long as it�s not too naughty.� �Too naughty?� I�d have to spend some time thinking about exactly where that line would be for Sharon. I hoped it would be further than I really expected.

�Okay, I�ll see what I can think up.�

�You�ve got a great imagination, Joe. I�m not worried!�

The subject changed and we talked for another half hour before calling it an evening. I spent the rest of the night fantasizing about naughty somethings that weren�t too naughty. And a few that were.

It wasn�t until the next day that I started to wonder about her motives. She�d pushed me to ask a girl out and she�d also hinted at a sexual Christmas gift. In the same conversation. She enjoyed the erotic stories I was sending her, but had explicitly said she wasn�t desperate enough to date me. That still stung.

I thought about asking her what was going on, but decided against it. She could fix the contradictions by not giving me whatever Christmas present she had in mind. I was curious about that present. I wanted it. Just like I wanted to see where things might go after that. It wasn�t the purest of motives, I knew, but after more than six months, the celibacy was starting to get to me.

--Fin--

© 2005, all rights reserved.

Read the next chapter in this story: Chapter Six

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