Chapter 4

Ray pulled into his driveway and parked his car. He led Rebecca into the house and up a flight of stairs. "Here's the guestroom," he said. "Bathroom's down the hall."

"I want to get out of these clothes," she said. "And, I'll take you up on your offer to use the washing machine."

"Ken," Ray called, "we're going to do a load of laundry. If you have anything you want washed, drop it down the chute."

"Okay, Dad," Ken called back.

Rebecca stepped from the bathroom in denim shorts, cotton tee and flip-flops. "I have my blouse and some underthings."

"Let's see what we have in the chute." He led her to the laundry room and combined some of his and Ken's light-colored items with hers. "There -- nothing like the homey sound of a washing machine happily sloshing away. It'll be ... what? half an hour for it to run through its cycle? Care to watch something on TV?"

"I'd like to sit and talk."

"Talk is good. Follow me."

Ray led her to his living room. Ken was sitting at a desk in the corner using a laptop computer.

"My God," Rebecca exclaimed. "How big is that TV?"

"Its a sixty inch plasma. You're sure you don't want to watch something?"

"No ... You really think Kirk's going to give me an offer?"

"I'll be dipped if he doesn't."

"What's the downside?"

"The downside?"

"Yeah -- if I accept his offer, what's the downside? You seem to know him pretty well. This all sounds too good to be true, and I know if something sounds too good to be true..."

"It probably is. It's an astute question, Rebecca. The downside ... Well, Kirk demands absolute loyalty from his associates. In return, he will give you his absolute loyalty. He believes in what he calls a social contract between his firm and his people. He will bend over backwards for you, but he expects you to do the same."

"That doesn't sound like a downside."

"When you have to work 'til nine each night for a month straight or come in on Saturdays to finish some project, you might feel differently. The real downside is Kirk himself."

"What do you mean?"

"Walnut Street Capital is almost the definition of a cult-of-personality. If you look up the phrase, 'cult-of-personality' in a business dictionary, you'll see Kirk's logo as an illustration. Kirk IS the firm, and if anything happens to him..."

She nodded. "I understand."

"Look what happened to Apple Computer for a while in the nineties when Steve Jobs left ... and what happened when he returned. Kirk is very much the same way."

"How old must he be?" she asked.

"He's sixty-one."

"So, he'll be retiring soon?"

Ray laughed. "Kirk will never retire. He'll be carried out of his office. He must have a good twenty years left in him, though; and he takes good care of himself. Who knows what the place will look like by then, anyway?"

"I suppose..."

"It all operates out of that suite on the twelfth floor of the Westmar building. You'll get to know your co-workers really well."

"If this offer is forthcoming, that is."

"Oh, it is. Trust me, Rebecca. It is."

Kenny closed up the laptop. "I'm going to take a shower," he announced, "and wash the Camp Phantom cooties out of my hair. Then, I'm going to bed."

"You're done down here?" Ray asked.

"Yeah -- Jason's not on tonight and I'm really tired." Ken pounded up the stairs.

"I'm surprised," Ray remarked. "Most nights he's on the laptop 'til at least eleven."

"His retreat probably wasn't conducive to a good night's sleep," she replied.

"DAD!" Ken yelled from the top of the stairs. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Ray looked up the stairway and saw Ken holding a plastic hanger with nylons dangling from it. "Oh -- I washed out my pantyhose in the sink," Rebecca said. "I left them to drip dry in the shower. I'm sorry."

"Just hang it on a towel bar," Ray yelled up the stairs. He turned to Rebecca "Shall we see if the washer is done?"

"Sure..." She followed him back to the laundry room.

Ray pulled items from the washing machine and sorted them. "I think your dainty underthings ought to hang dry."

"My blouse, too."

"We'll put the rest in the dryer." Ray embraced her and they kissed.

"Stealing a kiss in the laundry room -- how romantic."

"What do you think of Kenny? Be honest."

She shrugged. "He's a teen-aged boy. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with teen-aged boys."

"With a daughter like Kamelya? I'd think they'd be buzzing around her like flies."

"Kami has cultivated an air of aloofness ... inapproachability ... an ice queen. It's her way of dealing with irksome boys."

"I love my son, but I don't delude myself. He's intelligent, arrogant, more than a bit spoiled ... indolent ... with a goodly amount of attitude. He's the sort of kid who can coast on sheer, raw intelligence. He hasn't hit his wall, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Sooner or later, everyone finds themselves in a situation where raw brainpower isn't enough -- you actually have to work to make the grade. Kenny hasn't found himself in that situation, yet. When he does -- it'll be a rude awakening for him."

"He's your son, Ray -- he can't be all bad."

"He's a good kid. He needs to have his heart broken, though. That'll teach him some humility."

"Did you ever have your heart broken?" she asked.

"Yes -- when Maggie died. Let me show you something." He led her through a door to the garage. Parked in it was a lime green, newer model Volkswagen Beetle. "That's Maggie's car. We bought it to celebrate her first surgery -- the one with the incorrect diagnosis. I don't think it has fifteen thousand miles on it. She loved that car, Rebecca. After she died, I was going to sell it but Kenny wouldn't let me. He likes it, too, and I promised him when he gets his license he can drive it."

"Kenny likes it?"

"Go figure. It's the epitome of a girlie car in my book. I drive it once in a while to keep it limber and running, but I feel like an absolute pansy when I do. My idea of a car is my Kia Amanti. Actually, what I really want is a 1960 Studebaker Golden Hawk -- but the Amanti looks a bit like one." He closed the door to the garage. "Maggie casts a long shadow here, Rebecca. I hope you can deal with it. If you can't -- tell me now."

"I do feel the depth of your loss, Ray; and I understand if she were alive today you and I wouldn't have what we have. I also know it makes no sense to be jealous of a dead woman."

"De mortuis nil nisi bonum, he replied. "It's an attitude that takes maturity and self- confidence. I'm pleased that's how you feel."

"I must accept what is -- not what I wish might be. And, so do you and Kenny."

"Fair enough." He took her hand and they laced fingers. "Care to go upstairs? Are you ready to turn in?"

"I've been thinking about turning in with you ... ever since I accepted your offer to crash here tonight."

They headed up the stairs. "Shall I slip into my nightgown?"

"Wouldn't you be slipping right out of it again?"

"I suppose ... Let me get my robe."

Ray had stripped to his briefs when Rebecca stepped into his room with her robe over her forearm. "This is officially the second time, correct?"

"Yes, by my counting that's right."

"And, second time -- anything goes, correct?"

"That's what I said."

"Anything? Now I wish I had whipped up that gallon of lemon Jell-O." Rebecca laughed. "I think we do have some Reddi-whip left in the refrigerator."

"I hope you're joking."

He opened a door on the nightstand and removed a large tin. "Maybe you'd like to try this."

"What is it?"

"It's honey dust -- honey, crystallized and finely divided. It has a subtly spicy perfume to it." He opened the can. "It's sweet and gives a smooth, slick feel. You dust it on your partner's erogenous zones with this feather applicator."

She sniffed the can. "It does have a pleasant scent. Can I dust some on you, too?"

"If you'd like. Shall we get started?"

Rebecca kicked off her flip-flops. She pulled the hem of her tee from her shorts, lifted it over her head and set it on a chair. Then, she pulled her shorts down and stepped from them. She turned her back to him, reached around and unhooked her bra and set it on the chair.

She turned and faced him. He embraced her and they kissed. "Your body takes my breath away," he said. "Every time I see you it's like the first time."

"How many times has it been?"

"Well ... there was last night ... and the middle of last night ... and the end of last night and this morning and now. Five times and it hasn't grown old yet."

"That sounds like some creative book-keeping." They kissed again and played tongue games.

Ben turned down the covers, kicked off his briefs and sat on his bed with his back against the headboard. He spread his thighs and patted mattress between them.

Rebecca sat and leaned against his chest. Ray slipped his arms around her waist. "You like starting this way?" she asked.

"I like. Don't you?"

"It feels good. I like feeling your arms around me." Ray picked up the tin of dust and dipped the applicator into it. He began brushing the dust along the tops of her shoulders. Then, he ran his lips and face along her skin. "That feels nice ... different ... I like."

Ray began kissing and nuzzling her shoulder, working his way to her neck and under her ear. He switched to the other side and nuzzled the back of her neck and her ear.

He dipped the feather applicator into the dust again and painted it onto her breasts. Then he began stroking her skin with his fingers. "Mmm ... That does feel good," she remarked. "I see what you mean about feeling slick."

"It's like baby powder only edible," he replied.

"It does feel nice..." She ran her hands along his thighs.

Ray brushed his fingers across her nipples. Rebecca's belly jerked and she drew in a gasp. "Is that okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes ... it surprised me a little."

He cupped his hands under her breasts and stroked them with his thumbs, lubricated with the sweet dust. He ended each stroke with a gentle caress and pinch of her nipples.

Rebecca squeezed his knees as he stroked. "This feels really good, Ray ... really good." He felt her body relax against his and he kissed and nuzzled the base of her neck as he stroked her breasts. "You won't get tired of doing that, will you?"

"Maybe after a day or two."

"Oh, I like how it all feels ... I like feeling your lips on my neck ... how you're stroking me ... it's just right."

"I like how your nipples get firm when I stroke them."

"Oh, yes ... it's different from how they get if I'm chilly. Then it feels like my whole breast tightens up. What you're doing makes them feel warm and relaxed and ... engorged. It's a wonderful feeling."