Cortez's Story: Part 6

That night, I waited for the eleven o’clock sleepover request. Cortez was predictable with that at least: every other night he would text me at eleven fifteen, sometimes eleven thirty and occasionally midnight, and we’d all but follow a script.

“Good evening, Madame,” he would write in a text, “would you care to come for a sleepover? Perhaps some hash to be followed with *winkwink* cardio?”

“Why yes, Monsieur,” I would invariably reply. “I do believe some cardio is much needed. But I’m very near to falling asleep, shall I head over now? Or you’ll have to wait until another evening.” I didn’t want him to think I had sat up, zoning out on TV shows I didn’t like, waiting for his invitation.

      While waiting for his “come on over” reply, I would doll myself up. First I would brush my teeth and give my hair a quick comb through, not wanting to waste too much energy getting pretty. After ten minutes with no texts, I’d put on my sexiest underwear, layered under a tight pair of jeans or a body hugging dress. When, twenty minutes later, Cortez still hadn’t replied I would put on my glasses. I’d pace around the living room, groaning intermittently in a mix of frustration and irritation, Isabella watching me with motherly concern from her perch on the sofa.

      “Are you staying at his house tonight?” She’d ask calmly, giving away her emotions by concealing them so well. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it? Is he going to meet you halfway? I know it’s just a four minute walk, but I don’t like you walking around downtown alone this late at night.”

      Just as I’d be taking off my shoes or pulling out my pajamas, my phone would vibrate loudly. Feeling sick to my stomach with anticipation, I’d ignore it for a good five minutes before coolly strolling over to read my lovers delayed reply. I asked him to meet me partway a few times, giving up after the fourth no-show. When I’d arrive at the Ivy, at least an hour since having been invited over, the door would be locked and the bar deserted. I’d stand outside, waiting and hoping that he’d be paying attention to his phone knowing that it took such a short time for me to get to his place from mine. Usually he would let me in before five minutes had passed, but a few times I stood outside shivering in my ‘cute clothes’ for a solid fifteen. I felt silly leaning against the wall and I certainly didn’t feel empowered and womanly like I had the first few times I spent the night.

Upstairs, the bong would be packed and waiting, and after a few bowls I wasn’t so mad at Cortez anymore. So what if he took forever to answer his phone? He was busy having deep and hilarious discussions with his interesting roommates. Did it matter that he was always conveniently “waiting for a buddy” and couldn’t come meet me, when the walk was so short? You’ve only been propositioned for sex once walking over here, my high brain reasoned, just relax and enjoy the attention he’s giving you now.

      The only variation that night was when I coyly asked him to put on a ‘raincoat.’

      “It even glows,” I giggled, tilting my head to peer up at him through my eyelashes. “We haven’t talked about what we’ll do if I get knocked up by accident. I’m pro-choice,” I said quickly, not liking the change in his face. “But I know I couldn’t have an abortion. Not after everything I just went through and knowing that I would love that ba- er, yeah...” The air in the room was thicker than a good beef stew. Cortez said back on his haunches, thoughtfully tugging at his goatee.

      “Well, Madame, I would try to convince you not to have it,” he said after a long pause. He coughed forcefully. “But uh, ultimately that’s your decision. You’re very young though, and I’d hate to see you alter your life so drastically.” I looked at him quizzically, feeling slightly repulsed.

What kind of statement is that, ‘I would try to talk you into something you don’t want to do but ultimately it’s all about you?’ I had hoped for, and really I had expected, a supportive reaction. “Okay Taylor,” I had wanted him to say. “Let’s use protection every time then, because I don’t want to put you in the position where you’d have to make that choice. And if we have an ‘oops’, don’t worry Madame, I will take care of you two.” It didn’t have to be true; it just needed to be said. I bit my lip and reached for the blanket, not wanting to be as exposed as I was. Cortez saw the change and before the disappointment in my belly worked its way to my tear ducts, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me.

      “So it glows, you say?” He whispered in my ear, goatee tickling my neck. A single tear rolled out of my eye, and I rubbed it into his curls before he could notice. I was suddenly aware of the fact that he was almost a decade older than me.

      “I’m not really in the mood, Monsieur. That killed it for me,” I tried to whisper too quietly for him to hear.

 I felt embarrassed that I’d let my emotions into the pre-arranged no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits deal. I thought back to my excitement when Cortez came back from a weeklong rave on Bards Island and told me he hadn’t felt the desire to sleep with any of the girls there, not even the stripper who had flung herself at him constantly. A doubt crept into my mind, thinking about the times he’d called into the Trout, claiming to have witnessed a crime or that his house had been broken into when he wanted to lay in bed with me. I shoved it to the side when Cortez scooped me up and held me in his lap all night. I was woken up later by his erection, presumptuously wrapped in a condom, prodding the backs of my naked thighs. Bizarrely turned on, I rolled over and tangled my body in his.    

I felt a familiar disgust when I woke up in the morning, alone. There was no sign of the man who made me feel like a lady almost a month ago. I lifted my head groggily, yanking the sleeping bag-cum-blanket to cover my bare bum. I remembered him waking me up in the night and groaned. I certainly did not feel like a lady, and I wanted to not feel as terrible as I did in that moment. Dressing quickly, I packed the biggest bong rip that I could handle and chased it with three cigarettes. I figured Cortez owed me at that point, suppressing any feelings of guilt. He entered, hair wet and even scragglier looking than normal from the shower, as I was tugging on my boots.

      “Oh! Did you want to have a shower, Madame?” He closed the door, un-tucking the green towel from around his waist. He held it out to me, despite it being soaking wet. From the rank smell of it, it was still dirty from when we’d shared it two mornings ago. I shook my head slightly, puffing on another cigarette. He shrugged and re-wrapped his naked waist.

      “I want to shower at home,” I mumbled, looking towards the door. It was the first time I had woken up and Cortez’s legs weren’t wrapped around mine. It was too coincidental to have just happened by chance after the brief emergency baby plan discussion, and I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.

      “Oh,” he drew in his breath sharply, surprised. “Okay, Madame. Are you upset with me?” There was an uncomfortably long space of dead air.

      “No—Yea, I guess… I’m starting to have feelings for you Cortez.” I glanced up to see his reaction. “I’m not in the same place as I was when we started… doing this. You’re too fucking busy to come meet me, but not busy enough to not have me run over here in the middle of the night. It doesn’t make me feel good; I feel like your personal hooker or sex doll or something. It makes me feel icky, and I don’t want this anymore.”

      “What is it that you want now, Taylor?” Cortez asked, solemn for once, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to me. I couldn’t help but notice the person-sized space between us.

      “I want… I want a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, Cortez. I want to be your girlfriend and cuddle up and watch movies, bake cookies and lay in bed all day—just lay there and enjoy that. We’ve never hung out in the daytime except at work. I… I want to do things in the daylight with you.” I cringed at my awkward finish, but it fit perfectly. Cortez sighed reaching for the pack of cigarettes and lit one. He offered the pack to me and I took another, ignoring the churning in my empty stomach. The breakfast of scrambled eggs and home-grown veggies had apparently been a one-time deal.

      “Well…” he started, fiddling with a piece of hash and staring at the wall. “I just got out of a serious relationship, I told you—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “That’s why I don’t think we should do this anymore. You made it clear you don’t want anything more, and I didn’t either – in the beginning. Things in my life changed, and this isn’t working anymore. It doesn’t make me feel good.”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad, Madame,” he sighed. “I too crave the closeness from the bond of a relationship. Right now I can’t commit to that, though I would love to take you out for a hike at Walakak Park. And I’d love to bake with you, and watch movies and you know I love to cuddle.” He pulled me gently down onto the bed and held me. I stared up at him, looking for clues in his eyes.

“I’m confused, Monsieur,” I whispered, feeling frustratingly young. I wondered if the age difference was too much. Older guys know the right things to say, I reminded myself, whether they mean to or not. “I want the distinction of girlfriend. You say you don’t want a relationship, but what you just said contradicts that.” I waited for his explanation, but he dropped his face in to nuzzle my chest. “No, Cortez, be serious. I’m not going to keep sleeping over here if you aren’t interested in a relationship. This is hurting me.” His face still pressed against my chest, he sighed heavily before looking up at me.

“Compromise? We’ll not be in a relationship, but how about we make our friendship,” he smiled coyly, “exclusive? Though I haven’t felt the need for anyone else with you around, rrrraaawwr!” He didn’t wait for an answer before biting my neck. “Deal, Madame?” He drawled lustily, looking into my eyes.

“Okay,” I agreed hesitantly. “Exclusive… friendship.” I forced a smile and kissed his nose. A strange expression crossed his face, like the kiss was an offensive pleasure. He quickly covered it with a hungry grin, growling and rolling quickly so that I was laying on top of him. My hand reached down to pull off his towel, and he had me undressed in record time.

Another three weeks later, and we’d yet to go for a hike. The plans had been made several times, but it wasn’t Cortez’s style to set a time. I would rush to finish everything that needed doing for the day early in the morning. The first time we were supposed to go, I woke up at six thirty so I could be ready at the drop of a dime. I was hoping that our daylight activity would bring back the tenderness that had petered out of our relationship. My good-bye kiss privileges had been taken away ever since the discussion about babies and exclusive friendship, and I wanted them back.

 “We’ll go early tomorrow afternoon,” he promised, breathing heavily as he took in my naked body, contrasted sharply against the Mexican blankets. “God, you’re delicious,” he breathed.

But I had no texts the next morning, and by eleven forty five, I knew we weren’t going to Walakak Park. To be completely honest, I had known when he’d first said it. I had just hoped that he would give me the simple hike that I wanted, since he always got what he wanted. When I called him out on it, he turned it on me, saying “Well Madame, you didn’t text me either.”

“No, I didn’t,” I shot back, “because I was sitting around, fucking waiting for you. I didn’t want to be “clingy” or “needy” or -- FUCK! -- “girlfriendy” and then you’d be mad about that. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you to do something you claim to want to do with me. It’s literally the only thing I’ve ever asked of you.” I scooted backwards on the bed, pressing my back, clothed for once, against the cool wall.

“I guess we both flaked out, Madame,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. “I’m sorry you feel so upset about it.”