"I can always go back later when things mellow out," she said. And that had pretty much closed the subject.
Jake didn't really care whether or not she went to school. That was her decision to make. What bothered him was how easily she'd jumped off the track that led to her life's ambition — to teach — without so much as a backward glance. She had done this just so she could continue to date him. As a man who had once chosen his career over a woman he loved — who had never even considered doing otherwise — Rachel's quick decision disturbed him. Did she care about her ambitions so little? Or did she care about him so much? Either way he wasn't sure he liked the answer.
The depth of Rachel's feelings for him and the contrast of his feelings for her was another sour spot — one he'd spent a lot of time thinking about lately. About two months ago Rachel began tossing the L-word around. At first it was just casual use, a giggling 'I love you' during particularly good sex or while laughing together, something he barely even noticed. Gradually, however, both the frequency and the depth of this expression increased to the point she was saying it every time he kissed her goodbye or goodnight, every time they talked on the telephone, every time they finished having sex. She gazed into his eyes sometimes and proclaimed this love at the dinner table, or while they sat on the couch together, or while they sipped drinks in the back of a limo on the way somewhere.
Jake always felt awkward at these moments, unsure just what to say. He did not tell her he loved her in return because he knew it wasn't true. He liked her as a person, as a conversationalist. He lusted after her body in a sexual manner. He enjoyed her company, enjoyed having her live with him and be his girlfriend. But love? No, not even close.
Jake had been in romantic love with a woman two and a half times before in his life. The first had been Michelle Borrows, who had given him the ultimatum to either quit music and become a respectable member of society or lose her (and who had then gone on to write her journal of provocative falsehoods and half-truths years later). The second had been Angelina Hadley, the waitress he'd worked with in Hollywood while recording the first Intemperance album. He had last seen her as he'd stepped onto the bus for the first tour where he'd gotten lost in the haze of gross intoxication and an endless supply of groupies willing to do any kinky thing with him. He'd never found the courage to call her, write her, or talk to her again. The last he'd heard she had gotten into drugs and prostitution and was doing some time in the LA County jail. The half-love was Mindy Snow, the actress who had played the pious, churchgoing daughter on the long-running family television show The Slow Lane. He had been well on his way to falling in love with her when he discovered that she was only dating him to break out of the good-girl image she had been saddled with.
Jake knew what love felt like, knew that there was no mistaking the sensation for something else, knew that if you had to ask yourself if you were in love, the answer was generally 'no'. He did not love Rachel and was not going to say he loved her just to appease her. That path led to nothing but trouble.
They arrived downstairs for dinner exactly on time, just as Elsa finished putting everything on the table. Elsa served them each a plate with chicken Parmesan smothered in homemade pasta sauce and melted cheese with garlic bread and rigatoni on the side. In separate bowls she served her fresh salad with Italian dressing. She gave each of them a glass of chilled Chardonnay and left the opened bottle in the center of the table. Neither Jake nor Rachel asked Elsa to join them. They had long since learned that she absolutely refused to break bread with her employer or his guests.
"It's just not proper decorum," she'd declared on multiple occasions.
The food was as delicious as everything she cooked. Jake ate two helpings of everything and Rachel ate at least a helping and a half.
"That's at least another twenty minutes on the treadmill tomorrow," Rachel declared when she finally pushed her plate away.
While Elsa cleaned up dinner and did her final spot-check of the house for the evening, Jake and Rachel went out to the balcony outside the master suite. They polished off the second bottle of wine and enjoyed the warmth of the evening while looking out over the city lights of Los Angeles.
"You want to take a swim?" Rachel asked when the last of the wine was gone.
"Sure," Jake said, standing. "Let's do it."
They went back in the bedroom and quickly stripped naked. They put on robes and then went back out onto the balcony and down the stairs to the backyard. The security lights came on, flooding every inch of the backyard with bright, sterile light. Jake went to a control panel near the living room entrance, punched in a code, and deactivated everything except the swimming pool lights. By the time he finished this task Rachel was already in the pool, her smooth, naked form gliding just under the surface.
Jake dropped his robe on one of the redwood loungers and walked naked over to the diving board. He mounted it, took four steps and a jump, and launched himself into the air, flattening his body out and diving into the pool with hardly a splash. The water was eighty-one degrees, just a few degrees warmer than the air, and pleasantly refreshing. He swam along the bottom and surfaced at the shallow end, taking a few breaths.
"Nice dive," Rachel said, paddling over to him.
"Yeah," Jake said. "I was almost on the Olympic diving team once but I decided to be a dirtbag musician instead."
"I think you chose wisely," she said, sliding her wet nakedness against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest.
He slid his hands up and down her back, relishing the sensation of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. They kissed, gently at first but quickly heating up to long, luxuriant, open mouth kisses with lots of tongue. Her nipples hardened against his chest and his manhood hardened against her stomach. She reached down and began to caress it, her hand soft and gentle, bringing it up to its full potential.
"Fuck me, Jake," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck me right here in the pool." She squirmed her body upward, trying to line his erection up with her opening.
"Sit on the edge of the pool," Jake said, twisting his body away so she couldn't make the connection. "I'll eat you out."
"I don't want to be eaten right now," she said, nibbling on his ear, letting her tongue bath the lobe with saliva. "I want to be fucked. I want to be fucked hard."
"Let's go back upstairs then," he said.
"I want to do it here, Jake," she said, pleadingly. "Put it in me."
"I don't have a rubber on me," he said. "We need to go back upstairs if you want to fuck, or you'll have to wait until I run up there and come back down."
Her hands tightened on his back. Her face pulled back from him. Anger was in her eyes. "Why do you need a rubber every goddamn time we make love?" she asked. "I'm on the pill, Jake. I've told you that a thousand times!"
"And I've told you a thousand times, it's for your protection. I've been with a lot of women."