“'Very nice'!? Sandy, I think you just ate my tonsils,” she laughed.
“Yes. Just because I don't have sex, does not mean I am not sexually frustrated,” he explained, and she burst out laughing harder. He finally laughed, as well.
“Sandy, if you have sex the way you kiss, then you have nothing to worry about,” she laughed, fanning herself.
“Thank you. It was very lovely. But may I be honest?” he asked, finally opening his eyes. She smiled.
“Always.”
“I do not have any siblings, that I know of,” he started. “But if I did, I imagine that if I kissed one of them, it would feel very much like the kiss you and I just shared.”
Tate laughed even harder and started to slide again. This time he let her go, and she fell onto her butt at his feet. She laughed so hard she cried a little, and he had to help her get to her feet.
“Sorry, Sandy, I don't think you're getting any nookie from me,” she told him.
“Pardon me, but thank god.”
Later that night, after they had gone to bed, Tate crawled out from under her covers and crawled under Sanders'. Scooted up next to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. She settled her back against his front.
“No hanky panky,” she warned him, and he chuckled sleepily.
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
“But you will find someone, someday. I promise,” she whispered.
“You wouldn't have done it, you know,” he told her.
“Excuse me?”
“You wouldn't have actually done that, with me. You wouldn't hurt him, that way. You couldn't,” Sanders informed her. Tate sniffled. Nodded.
“I know.”
“Though I am flattered by the offer. And it was a very good kiss,” he assured her.
“It was one of the best I've ever had. Are you going to tell him?” she asked. He hesitated.
“Probably. Would you like me not to?” he asked. She shrugged.
“Whatever you think is best. I don't want to hurt him. And I wasn't using you, I promise,” she stressed. His arm got tighter around her.
“I know. You are confused. I understand. I thought maybe making a mistake with me, would help you realize the mistake you are making with Jameson,” he told her in a soft voice.
“You would do that? Jeopardize your relationship with Jameson, for mine!?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, I would, but the fear is unnecessary. When Jameson and I say we love each other, it is unconditional.”
She felt like such. Complete. Utter. Shit.
“Someday, Sandy,” she cried, “I hope I can be as good a person as you.”
“Someday, Tatum. Someday.”
She was gone. She had really left.
Three days later, Jameson watched the Bentley pull up the driveway. Sanders got out of it, alone. They hadn't spoken the entire time. Jameson hadn't called – if he had, he probably would've lost his shit and demanded Sanders drag her home. And he didn't want to do that. Sanders probably hadn't called for the very same reason.
“Nice little vacation you had there,” Jameson commented, taking in Sanders' rumpled suit. He had been wearing it for three days straight, obviously.
“I wouldn't say that,” the younger man replied, heading into the house and straight into the kitchen. Jameson followed him.
“I almost thought you had left with her,” he voiced his fear. Sanders stopped in front of a cupboard.
“I would never do that. I simply stayed with her till her flight left. Tried to reason with her,” he said.
“Oh really. And how did that go?” Jameson snorted. Sanders snorted as well and pulled open the cupboard.
“Not well. She is severly unbalanced.”
Jameson was a little shocked as he watched Sanders pull a bottle of Jack Daniel's out of the cupboard. He walked up next to him, watched as Sanders got a tumbler out of another cupboard and then poured about three-fingers worth of the amber liquid into the glass.
“She is also a bad influence. What are you doing?” Jameson demanded. Sanders handed the glass to him.
“This is for you,” he replied. Jameson took the glass.
“Oh god, why?” he groaned, then knocked back the liquid.
“She offered to sleep with me.”
Jameson started choking on the whiskey. Sanders pounded on his back, but Jameson waved him away. Stumbled over to the sink and turned on the faucet, stuck his mouth underneath it. He must have heard wrong. He couldn't believe it.
“I'm sorry,” he gasped for air, leaning against the counter. “You'll have to repeat that. What happened?”
“Sex. She offered to have sex with me.”
“I see. Did you take her up on this offer?”
Pause.
Oh my god. I have to kill Sanders. How am I going to do this!? That stupid bitch.
“I let her kiss me.”
I think there is a shovel, in the pool house. I can bury him under the roses. He likes roses.
“Sounds nice.”
“It was very nice.”
Then I am going to fly to Arizona, and I am going to strangle her. Just a little.
“And the sex? She is pretty fantastic.”
“She didn't actually want to do that. She discovered that I am a virgin. She wanted to do me a favor. The kiss was just calling her bluff. It worked. She was very upset at the idea of hurting you,” Sanders explained.
Oh thank god, thank god, thank god, thank god. Even I can only handle so much.