Playing House--Chapter Five
Jason had moved fast. Two days after she’d agreed to meet Hank Ginny was at Jason’s door for a get-together. He lived in an older two-bedroom rental house with a roommate, Peter. Peter worked with Jason and had transferred temporarily from their San Francisco office a few months ago. It had worked out well for them both though Jason had been uncomfortable with the idea at first because Peter was gay. Jason’s church wasn’t any more progressive in their view of gays than they were about anything else. Jason felt that gay couples should have legal rights, but it shouldn't be called marriage as that was not what God intended. Having a gay roommate was a big step forward for him. An even bigger step would be telling his mom about Peter, but so far Jason had avoided that. It hadn’t been too difficult, as his mom rarely left the suburbs to go into the city.
Peter answered the door. An attractive guy with blond hair and green eyes he always dressed as if he were just leaving for, or returning from, the health club. Today he wore black and white checkered spandex shorts and a purple tank top.
“Is Hank here yet?” Ginny asked.
“No.”
“You work with him. What do you think? Will I like him?”
“Hank’s all right, but he talks too much. I find him a bit boring, but you might like him.”
Great, they could wallow together in mutual boringness. Ginny went straight to the bathroom for her nervous pee. When she came out, she found Jason and Bryn in the kitchen. Bryn wore a sheer patterned blouse over a tan camisole, skin-tight jeans, and tan wedge sandals that made her three inches taller. Ginny's faded jeans and simple navy top seemed dull in comparison.
Bryn was making potato salad from scratch, using Grandma Cotton’s recipe. “You’ll like Hank. He’s smart, plays chess and everything.”
“Playing chess does not automatically make a guy a good match for me,” Ginny said.
“Arte,” Jason said.
The name made Ginny giggle.
“Who is Arte?” Bryn sounded irritated by their inside joke.
“Just some weird guy who used to come to chess club,” Ginny said.
“He had a crush on Ginny,” Jason said. “He kept inviting her over to see his comic book collection and the full-sized arcade video games that he kept in his living room. What were they again?”
“Space Invaders and Donkey Kong,” Ginny said. “The guy was obsessed with all things from the eighties. He only wore retro T-shirts."
“Like Talking Heads,” Jason said.
“And Charlie’s Angels,” Ginny said.
“Shouldn't Hank be here by now?” Bryn asked, louder than was necessary as if to block out the conversation that didn’t include her.
“He must have gotten hung up at work or something,” Jason said.
Perfect. More time to be nervous. How many more times would she have to pee before he got here?
Bryn started talking about the wedding. It would be casual, but tasteful.
Peter was sitting in a chair doing curls with a dumbbell. Ginny watched his biceps flex and relax, noticing the golden hairs on his forearm, and the thicker ones under his arm. She wondered how Pierce’s biceps looked flexed, and what the hair under his arms looked like, and then felt like a weirdo for thinking about armpits.
Ginny turned away in time to see Jason watching Peter with the same disapproving expression he’d worn when staring after the kids who were begging for money.
“We’re all going shopping on Saturday,” Bryn said.
“Shopping for what?” Ginny asked.
“Dresses of course. I want you and Britney and Carissa to match.”
“Really? If this is going to be a small, casual wedding, with no groomsmen, then why should we match?”
“It would look good in the photos,” Bryn said. “Don’t you agree, Jason?”
“It would look nice,” Jason said.
“Now that I’ve lost a few pounds I can fit into my red dress again,” Ginny said.
“Not the one you wore to Aunt Maureen and Uncle Vic’s anniversary party two years ago?”
Ginny knew that tone. “I’ve been told I look good in that dress.”
“I'm not saying it doesn't look good,” Bryn said. “The halter top and swing skirt, do flatter your figure.”
“You mean the skirt hides my wide hips?”
“That's not what I meant. Don't be so sensitive. It's just that red isn't the best color for a wedding and to be honest, that dress is a bit old-fashioned. Britney and Carissa have agreed to go shopping with me and pick out matching dresses. You should come too.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted, to go shopping with Crabbe and Goyle,” Ginny said.
“Who?” Bryn asked.
Jason laughed. Ginny wondered how he could marry a woman who didn’t know who Crabbe and Goyle were. Not only had Bryn never read Harry Potter, she hadn’t even watched the movies.
Not seeming to care that no one had answered her question, Bryn slid her hand onto Jason’s thigh. “We’ve got all the important dates figured out.”
“Already?” Ginny asked.
“We’re anxious.” Bryn gave Jason a seductive smile.
A lifetime of seeing these two together for holidays and family get-togethers stretched ahead of Ginny. If she moved out of the state, she'd only have to see them a few times a year. Seattle was a fun city, but three hours away by car might not be far enough. San Francisco, maybe?
“Next Saturday is the bridal shower. Aunt Maureen is having it at her house,” Bryn said.
Aunt Maureen and Uncle Vic loved having an excuse to host a party. Still…
“That's way too soon. You can't expect people to rush right out and buy you gifts without any kind of notice.”
Jason stood up and started for the kitchen.
“Of course not.” Bryn smiled. “We’re going to make it easy on everyone and have a giant piggy bank that they can fill with cash.”
Ginny glared at Jason’s back, understanding why he’d chosen that moment to leave the room. “Please, please, tell me you’re kidding.”
“Everyone does it this way now. Well, not necessarily the piggy bank thing. I just thought that would be fun. It makes more sense for people to give money than for them to go out and buy stuff that we don’t need or want.”
“And it’s so classy.” Peter rolled his eyes.
“It’s tacky,” Ginny said.
Bryn sighed. “That's what Mom said when I told her, but she's old-fashioned and doesn't know how people do things these days.”
This was true. “What does Grandma Cotton think of the idea?”
“She didn’t say.”
Too polite.
Jason came back into the room with two beers. He tossed one to Peter who caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding a dumbbell. “Thanks.”
Ginny was surprised to see Jason drinking. His father, an alcoholic, died of liver disease when Jason was in high school. Jason had always avoided alcohol. Bryn, on the other hand, had been a big partier until a few months ago. After the incident with the guy who turned out to be married, Bryn had sworn off clubs and cut back on drinking. Shortly after that she’d started seeing Jason.
“Jason, are you okay with this piggy bank thing?” Ginny asked. “How is your family going to feel about it?”
“My relatives are all in Kansas.” He shrugged but didn't meet her eyes. “It'll just be my mom and a few people from church. I don't care about gifts or money. The piggy bank is going to be anonymous so no one will feel bad if they can't contribute. We'll send thank you notes to everyone who shows up, thanking them for sharing the big day with us.”
It didn’t sound as bad the way Jason put it.
Twenty minutes later, when they were about to give up and eat, Jason got a call from Hank. He claimed to be sick and thought it might be food poisoning from the deli sandwich he’d had for lunch. Ginny had been stood up, and he hadn’t even met her yet.
“Don't take it personally,” Jason said.
Too late.
“I’ve seen some of the crappy food Hank eats because he’s too cheap to buy a decent lunch,” Peter said. “It wouldn't surprise me if he had food poisoning.”
Cheap was not a good quality in a man. Still, if the poor guy were kneeling in front of the toilet, she could forgive him for not showing up.
After they'd eaten, Bryn brought up dress shopping again. “I want you to come with us, even if you decide not to buy a dress. You're my sister. I want you to be part of this.”
Ginny felt a surge of guilt. Her little sister was getting married, and instead of being happy and supportive she was being jealous and petty. So what if she hated going to the mall? So what if shopping with Crabbe and Goyle sounded a tad bit less fun than waiting in line at the DMV on her lunch break? “Okay, I’ll go.”
Bryn jumped up from the sofa and hugged Ginny. “This is going to be so fun!”
Yippee.
****
I have a plan.
Ginny was on the bus when she received the text from Pierce. It had been a long busy day, as Fridays usually were. She was hungry and tired and wanted to sit down but all the seats were taken. She held tightly to a pole to keep her balance, trying not to get too close to the young woman with blonde dreadlocks, a woman who either couldn’t afford deodorant or didn’t believe in it.
This was the first time she’d heard from Pierce since Monday when she’d backed out of going to his house. She responded with, What kind of plan?
I’ll bring over pizza and a deck of cards. We’ll play a game.
That’s it?
It's a game designed to help you get over your fear of sex.
This was intriguing, but Jason was trying to arrange for her to meet up with him and Bryn, and Hank for drinks later. Ginny hadn't yet committed to it. The bus lurched forward, and her phone flew out of her hand. Dreadlock woman caught it an inch from the floor.
“Good catch,” Ginny said.
The woman glanced at the screen before handing it back. She smiled. Had she read the words fear of sex? How embarrassing. Ginny glanced around, certain that she was the only person on the entire bus who had never had sex. She replied, What time?
****
Ginny was waiting for Pierce when her mom called. If it were anyone else, she would have ignored it, but Ginny knew that if she didn't answer Janelle would imagine her dead in a ditch somewhere.
“Bryn called. They set a date and it's only a few weeks away, which is crazy. There isn't time to find a caterer, so we're doing the food ourselves, with family pitching in, donating food instead of gifts, and I have no idea how we're going to pull this off in a few weeks when just getting the yard ready is going to be a monumental chore. Your dad is going to have to set aside his pet coffins and---”
Urns, they’re pet urns.
There was no telling when her mom would pause for breath, so Ginny broke in, “I’m sorry to interrupt Mom, but I’m expecting company any minute now.”
“Is it one of your online men?”
“Um, yeah,” Ginny hated the way her mother made it sound.
“You invited him to your house? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We’ve already been out once, so I know he’s not dangerous.”
“You can’t tell that from one date. You should talk to Cousin Bobby. He can do a background check on anyone, you know. It can’t hurt to find out if he’s ever been arrested or has debt problems or an ex-wife and a kid or two that he hasn’t told you about.”
Or a twin brother he’s pretending to be. Ginny heard the rumble of a motorcycle. Was Pierce carrying pizza on a motorcycle? “He's here, Mom. I really have to go.”
“Okay, Honey. Be careful.”
Ginny started toward the door but didn't want to seem too anxious by opening it before Pierce knocked. Instead, she stood in front of the door, heart beating too fast, waiting. When the knock came, she jumped.
The sight of Pierce didn’t do anything to slow her heart rate. He wore the motorcycle jacket, faded jeans, and the boots. What was it about those boots anyway? He held a pizza box.
“How did you carry pizza on your motorcycle?”
“Very carefully.” He came inside, set the box on the table and opened it.
The pizza had slid around a bit, but it was relatively unharmed by the journey. Pepperoni was not on her healthy list. It smelled delicious. It oozed grease. Ginny imagined thousands of calories swimming in the grease, and turning to cellulite on her thighs. “I can't eat pepperoni. It's loaded with artery-clogging fat.”
“But it tastes so good.” Pierce took a slice and bit into it.
Ginny set both bowls of salad on the table along with a bottle of dressing. “This is the only dressing I have. It’s fat- free ranch.”
“Fat -free?” Pierce looked doubtful. He took off his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair and sat down. He moved the salad to one side.
Ginny started on her salad. The smell of pepperoni tempted her more with every bite of lettuce and shredded carrots.
“I’m not going to have to eat this whole pizza by myself am I?” Pierce asked.
“I might have one piece.”
After eating several slices of pizza, Pierce moved the salad bowl in front of him.
“You’re supposed to eat the salad first,” Ginny said.
“My dad always said I was the backward twin.” He took a bite of salad. “This dressing tastes like glue.”
“How do you know what glue tastes like?”
“I don't remember tasting glue, but according to my mom I put everything in my mouth, and since I'm positive this is what glue tastes like I must have tried it once.”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”
“I didn’t say I don’t like it.” He took another bite.
“So you’re saying you like the taste of glue?”
“No, I’m saying that since you made it for me, I’m going to eat it. I’m being polite.”
“By saying my food tastes like glue?”
“Your food tastes fine. It's the dressing that tastes like glue.”
Ginny pushed her empty salad bowl to one side, hungrier now than when she’d started eating. For the first time, she noticed the unpleasant aftertaste left by the dressing. She took a slice of pizza and bit into it, closing her eyes as the greasy deliciousness melted on her tongue. She opened her eyes to find Pierce watching her.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yes.”
When they'd finished eating, Pierce took a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket. “I thought we'd play cards first.”
“Or we could play chess.”
“I don't play chess.”
“I don't think I can date a guy who doesn't play chess.” Ginny smiled, though she was only half kidding.
“We're not dating. There's too much pressure in dating. We're going to play cards, and later we'll play the other game.”
Thinking about the mysterious other game brought heat to Ginny’s face, along with other places.
“Do you play poker?” Pierce asked.
“I played it with my cousins a few times when I was a kid, but I don't remember all the rules.”
“I’ll teach you.”
They played a few hands. Ginny learned that a full house beats three of a kind, but nothing beats a royal flush. She had a natural poker face, according to Pierce, and would be good at playing for money.
She lay down her cards. “I have a pair of kings, is that any good?”
“It beats my pair of threes.”
Ginny’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Jason. Hank was in if she still wanted to meet later for drinks. While Pierce shuffled the cards, Ginny let Jason know that her plans had changed and she wouldn’t be able to make it.
A few minutes later her phone rang. It was Bryn. She probably wanted to know what Ginny’s plans were. Ginny had no intention of telling her.
“I don't mind if you answer that,” Pierce said.
“It's my sister, and she's calling to find out what I'm doing and try to talk me into meeting Hank tonight. I'm not going to answer.”
“Hank?”
“He’s this guy that Jason is trying to set me up with because he feels guilty for marrying my sister.”
“Huh?”
It couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Jason is my best friend. Until a few months ago we spent a lot of time together. Then he started dating my sister. Now they’re getting married. I think he’s making a terrible mistake.”
“He's making a mistake, not your sister?”
“Yes, because she’s getting a great guy and he’s getting….well it’s not that there’s anything wrong with Bryn, it’s just that she’s indecisive.” Ginny shuffled the cards.
“You mean indecisive as in she can’t decide what kind of toothpaste to buy? Have you ever noticed how many different kinds there are?”
“Yes, but no. I mean indecisive as in Bryn never sticks with anything. She was a good gymnast, and then one day she just quit. In high school, she joined the choir, and she had a decent voice, but then she dropped it. In college, she switched majors several times.”
“You’re afraid she’s going to change her mind about your friend and ditch him too?”
“Yes. I’m afraid she’ll get bored with Jason after awhile and want to find someone more exciting.”
“So he’s a boring guy?”
“No, at least I don't think he is, but he and Bryn are too different. Jason is a bit shy, and Bryn is a social butterfly. Jason is conservative, and Bryn is liberal. Jason thinks that sex should be reserved for marriage and Bryn is much more casual about sex.”
“I think I like your sister.”
It was his smile that got to her. Without even knowing she was going to do it, Ginny threw the deck of cards at him. They landed on Pierce’s lap and spilled onto the floor. His eyes widened. “What the hell? I was joking.”
She was doing it again, ruining everything.
“They slipped.”
“Slipped? Is that anything like the way your phone hangs up all on its own?”
“Yes, like that.” Ginny walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water. If only there were a way to splash it on her cheeks without him noticing. With her back to Pierce, she drank the whole glass. When she went back to the table, Pierce had finished picking up the cards and was shuffling.
“I’m sorry,” Ginny said.
“Forget it. I promise not to like your sister if I ever meet her.”
Ginny hadn't meant to reveal so much. Now he knew about her anxiety, and he knew that she was sensitive where her sister was concerned.
Ginny’s phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Bryn. Who is this guy you ditched Hank for and why did you tell Mom that you have a date? Now she’s worried that he’s a serial killer.
Ginny sighed. “Are you a serial killer? My mom wants to know.”
“I don't think so. Not unless I have multiple personality disorder in which case I wouldn't know about the serial killer that inhabits my mind. It’s unlikely, though, as my dad is a psychiatrist and he’d have figured it out by now.”
“Your dad is a psychiatrist?”
“Yes.” Pierce kept shuffling, doing fancy stuff with the cards.
Ginny responded to Bryn. His name is Pierce, and he's not a serial killer.
Is he hot?
Scorching.
“Why does your mom think you date serial killers?” Pierce asked as he passed out the cards.
“She worries a lot. You know how mothers are.”
“Not really. My mother’s not the worrying type.”
“Must be nice.”
Pierce shrugged, “I guess. We haven’t seen her much since the divorce.”
“Oh. How long ago was that?”
“We were six, so about twenty-three years ago.”
“Wow. I guess I’m lucky. My parents are married.”
“To each other?”
“For twenty-six years.”
“Are they happy?”
“I guess so. Sort of. No, not really.” Ginny kept a pair of nines and tossed out the other three cards.
Pierce threw out two cards. “My parents have six marriages between them.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of divorces.”
“Four total. My dad is still with wife number two. My mom’s fourth husband died.”
“Sad. How?”
“He choked on a piece of steak three months after the wedding, left her everything, including a big life insurance policy. She moved to L.A. and now spends every afternoon sunbathing on the beach. She calls it the most successful of her marriages."
“She’s joking, though, right?”
“No, I don't think so.”
Ginny lay down her cards.
“Three jacks, you beat me. Now I'll teach you how to bet.”
Ginny kept wondering about the other game. She’d wait and let him bring it up.
They’d been playing cards, talking about casual things for more than an hour when Pierce asked, “Do you want to play a new game now?”
“I don't know. What’s this new game called?”
“House.”
“House is not a new game. Everyone has played House. When I was a kid I played with my cousins. The boys would sit in front of the television pretending to drink beer and insist that the girls wash the dishes. Instead, we hit them with pretend frying pans.”
Pierce laughed. “And I thought my childhood was messed up.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“My version of the game involves husbands and wives in the bedroom.”
Ginny’s heart rate sped up. “You said we’re not going to have sex.”
“We’re not. That’s why it’s a game. This game has one rule. No matter how much fun we’re having, we keep our clothes on. It’s pretend sex.”
“Pretend sex?” This was intriguing.
“The point is for you to get over your fear of sex. If you know ahead of time that we’re not going all the way, you won’t faint, or break out in hives, or find some reason to get pissed off at me and…”
“I get it.”
“What do you say, Ginny? Are you game?”
The room suddenly felt quite warm. She was glad to be wearing a lightweight blouse and cotton pants rather than a sweater and jeans. “I’m game.”
Pierce took her hand. “Show me your bedroom.”
Ginny took him to her room. Her bed was a twin. The pink comforter was the same one she’d had in college. She slipped off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together. “Have we been married long?”
“No, we’re newlyweds.”
“So sex would still be new?”
“Of course not, we did it all the time before we got married. Every day.”
“Every day?” Ginny gave him a look of disbelief. “Isn’t that a bit unrealistic?”
“I hope not. But we could say every other day if it makes you happy.”
“It does.” Ginny had no idea why it mattered. This was only a game after all. And for all she knew, she would want it every day.
Pierce began to massage her shoulders. “Hard day at work, Honey?”
“You can't call me Honey. My dad calls me Honey.”
“How about Sweetheart?”
“Nope, my mom calls me Sweetheart.”
“I’ll call you Melissa, then.”
“Why Melissa?”
“I don't know. I just like it. It's a good wife name. But if you don't like Melissa you can pick out one of your own.”
“Melissa works. I’m going to call you Richard.”
“I don’t see myself as a Richard.”
“Do you want to come up with a different---”
“No, it’s fine. You’re so tense, Melissa. It must have been a rough day,” Pierce/Richard said, continuing to massage her shoulders.
“It was.” Ginny closed her eyes and focused on her pretend husband’s hands, imagining that she was Melissa, a slimmer, sexier, version of herself.
Pierce/Richard moved her hair to one side and tenderly kissed the back of her neck. This sent little shivers down her spine. More kisses followed, along the side of her throat to just behind her ear. It tickled. She squirmed. She felt his fingers on her jaw, tilting her face toward him. Ginny looked into his deep blue eyes. Melissa was a lucky woman to have such a nice looking husband.
Pierce/Richard kissed her. It was a nice kiss, soft, not too wet. Ginny/Melissa put her arms around his neck. More kisses followed, sweet, tender kisses. Ginny felt his lips part and pulled back.
“Sorry, I forgot. No tongue. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Pierce/Richard drew her onto the bed with him. Ginny/Melissa tensed up again.
“We’re keeping our clothes on, so there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“Right.”
His hand skimmed along her side to her hip and then slowly went back up, curving under her right breast. “We do this all the time.”
Ginny ignored the pounding of her heart. “We do. All the time.”
She closed her eyes. There were more kisses followed by gentle explorations, breasts, belly and then feather light strokes along the insides of her thighs, causing her breath to speed up.
A whisper in her ear, “Our clothes are off now, Melissa.”
Naked. It was easy to imagine. Imagining is what she was good at. She was practically an expert at imagining.
His hand moved higher up her thigh, brushing the seam of her pants. Her breath caught.
“You like it when I touch you.”
“Yes.”
“I always take my time to make sure you’re ready for me.”
His fingers pressed harder. She was Melissa, married and naked, enjoying the feel of her husband’s lips on her throat, and his fingers. Oh, did she ever like his fingers.
“I think you’re ready.”
"Mm-hm."
Pierce/Richard covered her body with his. She liked the weight of him, the way his hips fit perfectly between her thighs, the warmth of his breath on her neck.
“I'm going to slide inside now, and move real slow. You like it when I start out slow.”
“Yes.” Ginny was quite sure that this was true.
His movements felt familiar. They'd done this hundreds of times, like so many couples before them. Since the beginning of time, this act has been performed millions of times. No, that wasn’t right either. The number would be in the billions if you counted all the people, even cave people. How silly to be afraid of this.
Sweaty and breathless, Ginny pressed her hands into his lower back and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, urging him to move faster.
“Slow.” Pierce/Richard pleaded.
“Faster,” said Ginny/Melissa/every woman in the history of the world.
It was going to happen. It was. Any second now she was going to…
The ecstasy sound could not be mistaken for anything else. With her window open to let in the cool evening air, the couple who lived below her might have heard. It didn’t bother her one bit that they would know she was enjoying this most ordinary adult activity. She only wished that the sound they may or may not have heard had come from her.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Shit was not the kind of word a woman wanted to hear after sex, even pretend sex.
Pierce rolled off of her, muttered “Sorry,” and went into the bathroom.
Ginny closed the bedroom door and changed into dry underwear before going into the living room. She sat on the sofa. The bathroom door opened. Pierce came out. The lower part of his T-shirt and the waist of his jeans were damp, as if he’d washed them, and tried to towel them dry. Ginny quickly averted her gaze. If pretend sex was this undignified what would the real thing be like?
Pierce sat down next to her, close but not touching. Ginny focused on her hands, twisting her fingers together.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“It was fine. It was nice.” Ginny looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.
After a moment, his hand came to rest on her leg, above her knee. “I should go. We're busy at work. I'm going in early tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Ginny said a little too quickly. Would he think she wanted him to leave? Did she? Ginny wasn’t quite sure what she wanted at the moment. While she was thinking about it, Pierce put his boots on. He put his jacket on. He gathered up his cards. Ginny walked him to the door. He gave her a quick hug, though what exactly that meant, she had no idea.
Ginny locked the door behind him. She picked up the empty pizza box to put it in the recycle bin. Pierce’s jokers were underneath it. She thought about calling him, but he couldn’t answer his phone while riding his motorcycle. She’d call him tomorrow. Maybe he’d drive over here and get the jokers. Maybe he’d want to play House again. Maybe next time she’d win.