Chapter 2
Jordan
After a busy day at my dispensaries, and some private deliveries of herbs and edibles (Valentine’s Day week is one of my busiest periods outside of Christmas), I finally make it to Aspen.
To escape the swirling snow,I push in through the main doors of the lodge and I immediately see my friend Alex, his brother Paul, and their respective girlfriends Jane and Mariah.
Girlfriends they met at The Exchange Club during Christmas. I raise a hand in greeting.
Alex saunters over and gives his customary, “‘Sup, Jordan?”
“I’m freezing, that’s what’s up.”
I try my best to smile even though my face has gone numb from the cold. I manage to grin, but it’s uneasy. Half-baked.
Jane waves and smiles hello. Her ring twinkles and flashes everywhere. It’s like a handheld ten-carat strobe, constantly reminding me of what I don’t have. The way the diamond twinkles, it’s like it’s laughing at me. Laughing because I'm unable to find happiness for myself.
Mariah’s ring is big too, but she’s past the point of needing to show it off to everyone, everywhere, and at every angle. Jane isn’t past that phase yet. She’s not likely to be for the next year, and probably not even after she gets married.
“Come sit by the fire,” Alex says.
I follow him toward some cushy, leather seating by the crackling log-filled fire. A woody scent of Cedar and Oak wafts from the smoking flames.
“What took you so long?” he asks.
Jane follows behind us, saying, “Yeah, Jordan.” I catch her big eyes briefly, just as Alex sits me down on an overstuffed leather chair closest to the fire.
As Jane and Alex sit down on a couch across from me (the same couch Paul and Mariah are cuddled up on) she adds, “we were worried sick about you. You weren't answering our calls. Thought maybe you got in an accident.”
“Or pulled over by the fashion police,” Paul says, gesturing towards my big fur coat. “What’s up with that, anyway? You look like a discount-store pimp.” Paul laughs, cracking himself up, and doesn't stop until Mariah swats his arm. “Yet another reason you can’t get a girl,” he continues. You dress in more frills than they do.”
I blush deeply. Angrily. Sure, the coat’s a tad ostentatious. Over the top with all the fur and the huge neckline. But I don’t look or feel like a discount pimp. This coat is fucking cool. Definitely worth the ten-plus grand I spent on it. I deserved it especially after I spent so much money on everyone else during Christmas.
I glare at Paul, who now seems to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Mariah. First, he wants to bust my balls about wearing my baseball cap. Now it’s my coat. I sniff loudly. To get his attention, and to present him with body language that says, “I don’t give two fucks about you.”
I clear my throat, and say, “Whatever, man. Discount pimp or not, you’re just fucking jealous, that’s what you are.” I pause, flapping the edges of the coat luxuriously. Showing off just how fuzzy they are. How plush. “You wish you had money to spend on this kind of shit, and you know it.”
Paul bats my accusation away, and I let it go.
My attention’s been brought back to Jane and Mariah. How happy they look cuddled into the arms of their chosen ones. And how happy my friend’s look to have their one true loves completing them. Filling what was once empty.
Not gonna lie. It’d be great to have what they have, I think, stifling any hint of a sigh.
If Alex or Paul suspect a hint of yearning from me, it’ll be yet another thing to tease me about.
I would love to have someone in my life who looks at me the way the Mariah and Jane look at my friends, but all the women I’ve ever been with aren’t really women. They’re girls. Pillow princesses looking at me to give and give and give, without once being willing to ever take charge. To not just demand things from me, but to let me serve them, to spoil them.
My mind wanders to the type of women I get easily. The ones who fall into my bed with a snap of my fingers are airheads. Silly. Shallow. Their breast implants have more personality than they do.
None of those “women” have done anything special for me. Nothing unique or different. Just release. A place to put my tensions until they want more weed or another gift. I suppress another sigh.
My eyes wander to Jane, who’s now absorbed in saying something to Alex. Leaning forward to nuzzle him. I’m afraid I’ll never experience what Alex has. A woman who’s willing to be a place for him to put his stresses. His fears. Someone he can be himself with. I let my mind touch the edge of something I haven’t wanted to admit to myself. My need for control and obedience.
Alex’s eyes catch me looking lost. Deep in thought. He must think I have more depression than brains, because he says, “Don’t look so down, Jordan. We promised this weekend was gonna be your weekend to have a bit of fun, but you can’t have any fun if you just sit there like that.” He mimics what I must look like. Sitting with my shoulders slumped, and my face set in a serious expression.
I pop out of my thoughts, slipping my mask of sarcasm and untouchability on. “Is that so, asshole?”
Paul smirks in my direction. Even as he cuddles Mariah to him, I see that look in his eyes again: the look that says he’s about to enjoy another moment of roasting me. "You need a woman to beat some sense into your scrawny ass."
“So this weekend is supposed to be about me? I couldn’t tell. What, with all the busting you guys are doing.”
Mariah gives me a soft, meaningful smile. “Don’t mind them. I’m sure you’ll find someone this time around, Jordan,” she says. “I thought I was going to be single forever too, but I found him.” She plays lovingly with the tufts of Paul’s hair.
“Third time’s the charm,” Alex agrees, bending in to kiss Jane on the cheek, and then her little button nose.
“But only because my brother and I have already been taken,” Paul chimes in, “so the ladies aren’t going to be distracted by us any longer.”
I shrug off part of my coat from my shoulders. Though this is “typical” joking for Paul, I’m not stomaching it well right now. I’m not able to take it any other way other than seriously.
“Oh, yeah, because anything else other than your macho, virile self is second best, is that it?” The venom I hear in my voice is not surprising to me, but it is surprising to Alex. To Mariah. To Jane.
Both girls give Paul a warning glance. They disconnect from their better halves for a moment, sitting forward to comfort me.
“You have a lot of good qualities,” Mariah says earnestly.
“Totally cute and adorable qualities,” Jane adds, “ones I know will be number one on some lucky lady’s list, Jordan.” Unlike with most girls who look like Jane — full figured and fit — she’s amazingly genuine. Sincere, despite her “sex kitten” vibe at times.
“For sure,” Mariah echoes.
I look away and down, rubbing the back of my head nervously. I’m not comfortable with girls complimenting me like this. Especially not girls who are now my friend’s fiancées.
“Yeah,” I say, though it probably sounds more like a grunt to them.
“I’m serious.” That’s Jane. I look up, just in time to see her give Alex a meaningful look that says, help me out here, would you?
“Don’t worry, Jordan,” Alex pipes up. “There are plenty of girls with different appetites at the Exchange Club where were planning to take you.”
I sigh, pretty sure that third time at the Club will equal a strikeout, not a charm.
“A girl is definitely going to like what you have to offer, Jordan,” Jane says, pouring her heart into it now.
Paul raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so you like punks now?”
Jane doesn’t give him the satisfaction. “Yes,” she snaps back, as if she’s as tired of her fiancé’s brother as I am.
Paul crosses one leg over the other, then crosses his arms over his chest. Mariah remains seated apart from him though still within arm’s reach.
“Just so everyone knows right now,” Paul says, “I was joking when I said he should find a woman to beat some sense into him.” He glances at Mariah, then Jane. “With how serious everybody is suddenly, it begs to be said.”
Jane catches Paul’s fleeting gaze. “I still don’t think that’s a bad idea,” she says. Meaningfully, she grabs Alex’s hand. Intertwines her fingers in his. “Well, maybe not with whips. But plenty of women like to be in charge, you know.”
Paul grimaces.
Jane rolls her eyes at him before looking at me. She gives me a small, encouraging smile before she showers Alex with more kisses. More caresses.
As I’m left to sit there by the fire watching my friends’ lovefest, I become aware of something stirring in me. Curiosity. Intrigue at the idea Jane keeps throwing around and Paul keeps wanting to not take seriously.
Being under someone’s control. Though I didn’t want to go there moments before, now my mind can’t stop exploring the possibility. Imagining what it would be like to give myself over completely to a woman. A real one. A woman with depth. Age. Experience. Hair in all the right places, who isn’t afraid to tell me not only what she wants from me, but what I can do for her.
I shift in my seat. I might do just that. I might let a woman have her way with me. I glance at Paul, feeling a little resentful. Manliness doesn’t always mean ordering around. Sometimes it means submitting totally and completely to a woman who deserves it.