“Okay, I’ll bite. What were you doing last night when you came back to the office?”
“Maybe the better question is who I was doing….”
Now my eyebrows shot up. “Debbie—”
“Jason!” she squealed before I could formally ask the question. “And, oh my God! I’ve been dying for you to get here so I could tell someone.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, waving my hands around as I stared up at her in total shock. “You slept with Jason? Jason from the mail room?”
Debbie grinned proudly and rested her butt on my desk. “Honey, nothing that we did together even remotely resembled sleep.”
“I don’t understand. What was Jason doing here so late?”
“Meeting me for a scandalous rendezvous.”
“You’re totally serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“But he’s so young!” I blurted, not meaning to sound judgmental, but I couldn’t help it. “What is he—twenty?”
“Twenty-two, but who cares?”
Which made him sixteen years Debbie’s junior. “Does he even shave yet?”
“He’s old enough to be legal, but young enough to be horny and hard—all the time. Vanessa, he is like a steel rod. And I tell you, girl, that boy couldn’t get enough last night! On the floor, against the wall, bent over my desk giving it to me from behind. Mmmm!” Debbie closed her eyes and shivered, as if reliving her orgasmic pleasure.
I cast her a wary look as I reached for my latte and gulped it this time. Her story was making me miss Eli all the more.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said.
Despite my expressed concern, I knew Debbie wouldn’t take offense. Not only was she my boss, she was a good friend. We shared all kinds of personal info and didn’t hold back on our opinions.
“Of course I know what I’m doing. And I’m doing it again tonight.” She laughed airily. “Though this time I’ll make sure he’s on the floor. I got some serious rug burn on my knees….”
“Okay, I think it’s a little too early for that kind of talk.” I downed more coffee.
“You should try it some time.”
“Jason?”
“No, a twenty-two-year-old. Heck, even eighteen.”
“Eighteen! You have lost your mind. Besides, I have a man.”
Debbie rolled her eyes.
“And I’m getting married.” I waved my three-carat rock. “You remember that important detail, don’t you?” I didn’t mention that my fiancé was mad at me right now and that he’d spent the night at his best friend’s place. I didn’t feel like bringing up our stupid fight, especially when I had no doubt that we’d be making up later in the day. Or that a deliveryman with a dozen roses would show up any minute.
“Seriously, Vanessa—don’t knock it till you try it. Nothing against Eli, but only the young ones can give it to you the way you want. Talk about stamina! Before you walk down that aisle, I think it’s in your best interest to—”
“Enough.” I held up a hand to silence Debbie.
“Fine.”
“Tell me more about you and Jason,” I said.
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You know he’s got a tongue ring, right?”
“Yes, I’ve seen—” I stopped short when the implication of what Debbie was saying hit me. I’d heard plenty about tongue rings, although I’d never dated a guy with one myself.
“Okay, are you saying…?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She smiled slyly.
“Don’t get coy now. I want the dirty details. Is it true what they say—”
My office line rang, interrupting me, and I groaned in disappointment. I reached for the receiver, saying to Debbie, “Hold that thought.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth as she giggled, either because of the look on my face or because she was remembering everything about the tongue ring that I now wanted to know.
“Vanessa Cain,” I said into the receiver, my eyes still on Debbie. “Will you hold a moment?”
I pressed the hold button before the person on the other end of the line could even speak, but Debbie shook her head. “I’ll finish the story later,” she told me. “You take that call.”
“Oh, no you don’t! You can’t leave me hanging like this!”
She tapped her watch.
“Fine, tell me about the tongue ring later,” I said hurriedly, “but do you like this guy or what?”
“I’m married,” she said candidly.
“I know, but…” In the last year, Debbie had grown increasingly less attracted to her husband and was now on her third affair. I didn’t agree with her infidelity, not in the least, but when I’d made that fact clear in the past, she firmly told me she was a big girl and could do what she wanted. That she didn’t need my approval, just my friendship.
Since she was a friend, I tried not to judge her, even if I didn’t agree with what she did behind her husband’s back. Still, I tried to talk sense into Debbie whenever I could slip my moral opinion in.
“You’ve found a new boy toy, Debbie,” I said. “Obviously, you’re not happy in your marriage. That’s been clear for a long time. You owe it to Ben—and to yourself—to leave him if you can’t be faithful to him.”
“And what about my children?” she countered. When I didn’t answer, she went on. “Look, screwing Jason is about the sex. Nothing more. He certainly can’t offer me anything more than that.”
Once, over drinks, Debbie had suddenly gotten emotional and told me how Ben had hurt her while she’d been pregnant with their first child. He and a female colleague had been working together on research about juvenile diabetes, and apparently Ben had almost cheated on Debbie. He couldn’t be reached as she’d gone into labor, and had arrived at the hospital after their son was born. When Debbie grilled him as to his whereabouts, he’d broken down and admitted that his colleague had tried to seduce him in his office at the university, and that they’d kissed for quite some time before he came to his senses and realized he couldn’t go through with having sex with the woman. He’d been infatuated with her for months, culminating in a moment of weakness.
To his credit, Ben immediately stopped working with her, then stopped working altogether to be a stay-at-home father. Debbie didn’t know if he’d been entirely truthful about what had happened, and didn’t press the matter, but it was clear to me in her retelling of the story that she had been deeply wounded by what Ben had done. Her trust in him had been forever shattered. Add to the mix the fact that Debbie’s father had abandoned her and her mother for a younger woman when she was only nine years old, and it was clear that Debbie had major trust issues where men were concerned. The way I saw it, her infidelity now was a way of guarding her heart, a way of protecting herself from utter devastation should Ben ever say he was leaving her.
I gave Ben credit for having been honest with her, and personally would have written off his actions as immaturity, or even last-minute fear over becoming a new father. And if I couldn’t forgive him, I would have moved on.
“I don’t see how you can cheat and not feel guilty,” I said.
Debbie shrugged. “I guess I did feel a bit guilty when I got home last night—until Ben