Travelling Home Ch. 04

"I don't want to bow out of this."

We're both silent for a while. I don't want to hang up, and the fact that he doesn't seem to want to either gives me hope.

"You don't know me either," he says quietly. "Do you think I got to where I am today always making the moral or the ethical choice? Do you think I've always played by the rules?" He pauses. "Do you think I was faithful to Nora until we got our divorce, that for sixteen years I honored the vows I made to her?"

"I guess," I say automatically, then more honestly, "No, not really." The truth is, I hadn't thought about these things, but I'm not shocked, either. I'm not blind to David's hard realism, cynicism, or sense of entitlement. But his confessions don't make a difference. It's not that I condone the choices he may have made. It's just that his flaws are part of him, just like his sweet smile, and the way he reads food labels and then makes the unhealthy choice anyway, and the fact that he wants to retire from a job that makes him travel, so that he can travel, and that he likes rubbing my back. "I'm an alcoholic," I blurt out.

"Yeah, I thought you might be. That's okay."

"You don't care?"

"I care. But it doesn't change how I see you."

I want to ask how he feels about me. I want to tell him that I'm crazy about him. "I should let you go," I say instead.

"Okay."

But he doesn't say goodbye or hang up, and neither can I.

"Hey, Jordie?" he purrs, and I know we're on our way to being okay again. For the time being, he's still patient with me, and it strikes me that it was always like this between us, even as children. I counted on David not getting too mad, on taking everything I could throw at him, over and over again.

"Yeah?"

"Is your hotel room on the city or the harbor side?"

"What do you think?"

"Mine's on the harbor side. I checked out the room on the internet. It has a telescope, for a better viewing of the harbor."

"Is that right?"

"Would you like to see the harbor view, Jordie? Lady Liberty standing proudly over symbolic Ellis Island?"

I laugh, recognizing the hotel marketing blurb.

"I'm not that kind of girl," I tell him primly.

I slip into the conference room a few minutes before the session is due to start, hoping to at least say hello to him, but our CFO is monopolizing him. David stands with his hands in his pockets, his head lowered as he listens, nodding every so often. Every year we worry that during our conference it will be announced that we're changing accounting systems, and it suddenly occurs to me that David might be here as a supplier, as well as a speaker. Converting systems isn't fun; I'm still traumatized by the last time, a mere ten years ago, and then we were only adding a couple of modules to the existing infrastructure.

"Shit, that's not David Hamvas, is it?" Connie Ceballos hisses at me. I'm surprised that she instantly recognizes him.

"I'm pretty sure it is," I respond truthfully.

"I thought so. I just read an article on him, although the photo didn't do him justice. Oh, no! They're not going to announce that we're installing a new system, are they?" she moans in a sudden panic, proving that I'm not only one scarred for life by the previous experience.

"I don't know," I mutter back, glaring at David, as if the fact that my company seems to flounder at the simplest projects is his fault. He picks that exact minute to raise his head and notice me; he looks surprised at first, probably at my scowl, and then he smiles broadly, tilting his head a little and staring at me.

"Hey, he's cute! For an old guy."

"Gee, thanks, Connie. He's my age, you know."

"Why is he smiling at you? Have you met him?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, at conventions around Europe," I respond vaguely, thankful that the session is being called to order and I don't have to answer more of Connie's questions.

It's the first time I've heard David speak in public. He's intelligent, charming and polished, his faint accent less noticeable in the practiced delivery. I prop my chin on my fist and let his voice wash over me, and I try to stay in the present rather than daydreaming about what we're going to do when we're finally alone. He meets my eyes twice; the second time he has to clear his throat and start his sentence from the beginning, and after that he avoids looking my way.

"So, what do you think?" David asks me, slipping his arms around my waist and pulling me back to lean against him, nuzzling my ear. The view alone was worth coming to his room for, though the other perks, like his warm naked body wrapped around mine, are certainly welcome.

"It's beautiful. Why the hell are we spending so much money on you? You should be wooing us, not the other way around."

"Oh, I am. One of you, at any rate."

"Well, after all, I am one of the influencers in the buying decisions," I boast modestly. Hey, I get to fill out a user satisfaction questionnaire every year.

He slides his palms down my belly, his fingers tickling a little, and my cock starts to grow. I flex my butt back against him, and his hand wraps around my dick, stroking lazily a couple of times, than stilling, just cupping me.

"Jordie? Is it working?"

"Hmmm? Not quite yet, but give me a couple of seconds."

He laughs gruffly. "Not that, you idiot. My wooing you."

I lean my head backwards and to the side, trying to see his face.

"Yeah, it's working," I say and he nods and kisses me on the corner of my mouth, where he can reach.

"What you asked me on the phone? About whether I see this going further? Is that what you want?"

My first instinct is to make him answer the question first, so that I can follow his lead. If he says that this is enough, I'll be able to pretend that it's enough for me, as well. And it is. Hell, it's more than a lot of people have, it's more than I had a few months ago. I don't want to rock the boat, make premature demands. I've always tried to fit in with others and I don't suppose that's going to change about me.

"We travel a lot for our jobs. You especially," I say, trying to gauge his thoughts, but he just gives a non-committal grunt, his body still loose against mine.

"Maybe we could arrange to meet more often."

"We could," he agrees, no inflection in his voice. Shit, it's like trying to decipher the fucking Sphinx.

I take a deep breath.

"Maybe... maybe we could figure out sort of a joint home base. Figure on spending free time there, rather than trying to coordinate travel schedules across the world."

He doesn't answer immediately, and I have time to run through all the arguments in my head, all the doubts that have plagued me, all the things that I should be considering rather than how much I want to be with him. It's way too soon to be suggesting something like this. We don't know each other well enough. We're too old to be leaping into something. Even in my late forties, I could be mistaking sexual attraction for something more.

"You have a home in Athens," he says finally.

"Yes."

I can feel his breath on my shoulder, his heartbeat against my back. His arms tighten around me. "Yes," he repeats on a sigh. "Yes."