Story Notes:
In Chapter 3 of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” Marlena issued a challenge to John. This is his answer.
Author’s Chapter Notes:
If anyone reading this is a travel agent, I apologize for the typecasting.
It felt so strange, Marlena mused when she spotted him, to watch John walk into a bar where he knew she was waiting and not immediately scan the room for her. Then again, seeing him through a stranger’s eyes was the entire point of this evening’s exercise, so maybe the slight sense of unreality was a good thing. That was why they’d come to Chicago for this instead of staying in Salem, after all, so that they could meet on unfamiliar ground.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored jet black suit with a crisp white shirt and a tie she couldn’t recall ever having seen before–pale grey shot through with a shade of blue that matched his eyes almost perfectly. It was the sort of getup he’d been so delighted to stop wearing when he gave up being the CEO of a fashion empire, but there was no denying it fit him perfectly, the cut of the suit accentuating his broad shoulders and trim hips. He was also sporting a fresh haircut, the shortest he’d had in a while. It looked good on him.
Marlena watched him from her vantage point at the end of the bar as he crossed the room, moving like he owned it. She was expecting him to take the seat next to her–how would he pick her up otherwise?–but he surprised her, instead claiming one of the seats on the shorter leg of the L-shaped bar, shedding his jacket in a single practiced movement and draping it over the back of the tall chair before sitting down. It left him in her line of sight but well out of earshot, maybe forty feet between them.
Okay, she thought. Now what?
He ordered a drink (whiskey on the rocks from the look of it) and took a sip, then set it aside to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves, revealing the muscular forearms that had always seemed so at odds with the suit and tie. The effect was oddly compelling–a powerful man starting to relax at the end of a long day, revealing just a hint that there might be more there than met the eye.
He took another sip of his drink and finally looked up, his eyes slowly sweeping the room. Not as if he was looking for anyone in particular, just looking.
People were also looking at him, Marlena realized, glancing around the room herself. The hotel bar wasn’t crowded at this hour, but John’s entrance had attracted some degree of attention from most of the female patrons. And, she noted with mild amusement, from a couple of the men as well. Not that anyone was staring, but there was a subtle undercurrent of more-than-polite interest.
John paid no more attention to Marlena during his perusal of the room than he did to anyone else. His gaze landed on her for a moment and moved on, just as if they really were strangers. He was certainly taking this game seriously.
Marlena didn’t have much time to contemplate John’s possible strategy before a large group of people came in all at once, suddenly filling the place with energy and noise. The final breakout session of the day must have just ended. The convention-goers were travel agents, she knew from the signage in the lobby, which presumably explained their attire–an eclectic mix of khakis, polos, jeans, tees, shorts, and a handful of truly unfortunate Hawaiian shirts.
In the blink of an eye every seat at the bar was full. A young man who had on entirely too much cologne took the one beside Marlena, and John ended up bracketed by a leggy thirty-something redhead and a petite fiftyish brunette. The latter looked a little too pleased with her luck. She immediately said something to John (asking what he was drinking, maybe?) and smiled when he turned toward her slightly to answer.
Marlena’s fragrant new neighbor ordered a beer and became instantly engrossed in the basketball game on the flatscreen above the bar, which was no great loss. Unfortunately, that left her with nothing to distract her from watching the brunette continue to flirt shamelessly with John, who appeared to be, if not flirting back, at least responding cordially. He was talking with his hands now (giving directions?), and she was hanging on his every word.
The brunette thankfully got a call before too long, and excused herself with what appeared to be genuine regret, putting her hand between her mouth and her phone for a moment to ask John something. He shook his head, and she looked disappointed as she paid for her drink and left, apparently having been called away.
Marlena eyed the now-vacant seat next to John, weighing her options. The challenge had been for him to pick her up, but that was going to be tough to accomplish from across the room.
John didn’t appear bothered by the situation, though. He signaled for another drink and, while he still had the bartender’s attention, glanced at the redhead and raised a questioning eyebrow. She shook her head, and Marlena hid a smile behind her own drink. It appeared that Daphne might present a greater challenge than Velma had. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, though, she watched as John completely and utterly charmed her.
He pulled out his phone after she shot him down about the drink, laying it flat on the bar and doing something (swiping through pictures?) that attracted her attention. She asked him some question, and he gave a brief response, keeping his eyes on his phone. She asked him something else, leaning in so that her elbow brushed his, trying a little harder. John finally looked up, and Marlena could literally see the moment this woman first got a good look at his eyes. She sat up a little straighter, and Marlena got a sudden mental image of an Irish setter scenting the wind. In almost no time she was practically eating out of his hand.
Not that that was entirely surprising. Marlena had been on the receiving end of the John Black charm enough times to know how difficult it was to resist. But she had never watched–just watched–while he worked his magic on someone else. It probably should have been disturbing, but of course she knew exactly who John would be leaving this bar with tonight, and it sure as hell wasn’t Daphne. Which made it rather fascinating, actually, this unexpected opportunity to watch John do what he did without being distracted by being the focus of all that attention.
Finally his current target leaned a little farther into his personal space–she was going to fall right off her chair in a minute if she wasn’t careful–and said something that caused John to abruptly shift away from her. He shook his head and said a few words that apparently conveyed a strong message. Daphne pulled away like he’d slapped her, glaring at him for a moment before hopping down from her seat and flouncing off, the very picture of wounded dignity.
What in the world? Marlena wondered.
Finally she picked up her drink and wandered down to take the seat Velma had vacated earlier. Most of the convention-goers had settled at tables now–many of them seemed to know each other pretty well–and the bar itself was no longer swamped.
“Tough luck with the redhead,” she said after a moment, not really looking at John.
He turned to glance sidelong at her, every inch a man sizing up a nosy stranger, and finally said, “Not my type.”
“Could’ve fooled me. I thought she was about to sit in your lap.”
John returned his attention to his drink. “You’re awfully interested in my business.”
“I’m interested in people. Occupational hazard of being a shrink.”
He laughed a little. “Yeah, I didn’t think you were from the convention.”
Marlena gave him the side-eye. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Too much class,” he said easily. “You stood out from the crowd even before the circus showed up.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Touché. I guess we both missed the memo about Casual Tuesday.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “And what is that you do, Mister…?”
He set his drink down and turned to extend his hand to her. “John Black.”
Marlena looked at his hand, then back up at him. “Really, that’s the best you can do? Why not just go ahead and say John Smith?”
He blinked, then threw back his head and laughed–a deep, genuine laugh that would have gotten to her even if he really had been a stranger. “Wow. You do play hardball, don’t you? Would you like to see my driver’s license, Doctor…?”
She finally shook his hand. “Evans. Marlena Evans.”
“Marlena,” he repeated, elongating the central vowel just slightly and giving her a subtle once-over. “Suits you.”
“Thanks,” she answered, and tried not to react to that look.
“Well, Doctor Evans, in the interest of assuaging your professional curiosity, what happened with the redhead–whose name is Candace, by the way–is that she’s married, and I’m not that guy.”
“Ah. And she volunteered this information?” Marlena took another sip of her drink.
“She suggested a threesome.”
The sip nearly came out her nose.
“Wow,” she finally managed. “Not really your thing?”
“I’m more of a one-woman man,” he answered, turning on his most devastating smile.
Marlena laughed. “And here I thought they didn’t make those anymore.”
“Apparently we’re a rare breed.” He nodded toward her mostly-empty glass. “Get you another?”
She hesitated.
“C’mon,” he coaxed. “I owe you for the laugh if nothing else.”
“Well, all right then. If you needed a laugh that badly.”
“You have no idea,” he said, and caught the bartender’s eye long enough to convey that the lady would like another drink, on his tab.
“Tough day?” she asked.
“The most recent of several,” he confirmed, angling his body toward her slightly. “I have quite a streak going. You?”
“Not so bad. I just got in this morning.”
“How long are you in town for?”
“Only until tomorrow. My seminar was this afternoon.”
“You said you’re a psychiatrist, right? MD or DO?” he asked as the bartender set down her new drink.
“Most people don’t know the difference.”
“I’m not most people.”
She found herself laughing again. “Yes, I’m getting that. MD and PhD, actually.”
“So you’re Doctor Doctor Evans?”
“Or you could just call me by my given name,” she pointed out wryly, “since I’ve told you what it is.”
“But you didn’t actually invite me to call you Marlena, now did you?” he asked, passing the obligatory do-you-remember-my-name test with flying colors.
“Consider yourself invited.”
“Thanks. And I’m John, unless of course you’d like to accuse me again of making that up.”
“I suppose I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Turnabout is fair play, though. MBA?”
“Nope. School of hard knocks, class of nineteen eighty-something.”
“A self-made man. Interesting.”
They chatted for a while, John asking her some questions about her work and Marlena trying to get him to reveal a bit more about himself without seeming too nosy. He eventually ordered a couple of appetizers and invited her to share them, which made her a little less afraid to actually drink her second drink, and she settled down and started to enjoy the little game they had going on. By the time he casually touched her arm while making a point, she was very aware of his magnetism, and that would have been true even if she’d never seen him before tonight.
“I can’t quite figure you out,” she finally said, studying him with something approaching a professional eye.
“Oh? How so?”
“You’re good at this–” She gestured across the small space between them, wordlessly indicating their flirtation.  “–and yet I get the feeling you don’t do it all that often.”
“Chat up pretty women in bars, you mean? You’re right. I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” he repeated, not appearing to understand the question.
“You’re a handsome guy. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself, professionally speaking. You’re charming and you know it. I’d think your hit rate would be pretty good.”
He stared at her for a second, then chuckled. “Thanks, I think.”
“There was a compliment in there somewhere, yes.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment, then answered her question. “Honestly? Most of the time it turns out not to be worth the effort. Women complain that men are only after one thing, but in my experience, women are just as bad.”
“We can be,” Marlena admitted, and could tell she’d surprised him. “But we’re not all Velma and Daphne.”
It took him a second, but when he got it she had the pleasure of having made him really laugh twice in an hour. “Was that what you were calling them in your head?”
“If the shoe fits…”
“You seem to have been paying a lot of attention to the company I was keeping. Were you eyeing me up?”
“I might’ve been.”
He studied her silently for a long moment.
“What?” she finally asked.
“I said most of the time it’s not worth the effort. I’m thinking you might be the exception that proves the rule.”
“Thanks, I think,” she answered, deliberately echoing his earlier words, “but I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning subtly into her personal space, “that I don’t really want to be alone tonight, and I hope you might feel the same way.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “I, uhm…” God, what is wrong with me? This is John! “That’s not really… I don’t do that sort of thing.”
“As you’ve already observed, neither do I,” he answered, not backing down. “But I think you’re something special, Doctor Marlena Evans, and I don’t want to say goodbye to you when I close out my tab.”
His eyes really were the most extraordinary shade of blue, she reflected, and privately admitted to herself that he had her. That he would have had her even if they really were strangers, which meant he’d won their little bet and they could call it done right now and go back to being themselves.
On the other hand, she could also let this mysterious stranger pick her up and see how that turned out.
“I don’t really want to say goodbye, either,” she admitted softly. “Do you, uhm… Are you a guest of this hotel?”
“I am, yes. Just let me take care of this–” He signaled the bartender. “–and we can go. My room number is twelve seventeen. You might want to let someone know where you’ll be.”
She looked at him in puzzlement.
“For safety reasons,” he said gently.
“Oh. Right. Of course.” She stifled a laugh. Trust John to want her to be safe with a strange man even when he was the strange man.
Marlena excused herself to the ladies’ room, and when she emerged John was waiting by the door to the lobby, his jacket draped neatly across his arm. He escorted her to the bank of elevators opposite the bar with a hand on her back, but even this was subtly different from their usual pattern. His touch was lighter than normal, less proprietary, exactly as a stranger’s would have been.
No wonder you were such a good spy, she thought but did not say. I know you, and I almost believe you’re someone else.
They were quiet in the elevator and the hallway, and by the time she followed him into his room she was having a hard time convincing the butterflies in her stomach that John didn’t really warrant this sort of aerobatics. She was almost at the point of calling off the game when he turned and caught her eye, pinning her in place with his gaze.
“You’re trembling,” he said, and closed the small space between them to rest his hands lightly at her waist.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted, automatically laying her own hands on his chest. “I really wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t do this sort of thing.”
His hand came up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and he let the touch linger, cupping her jaw and gently brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “I don’t want you to be afraid,” he said softly. “Does this really feel so wrong?”
“No. It feels right. I think that’s what scares me.”
He lowered his head slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to, nuzzling her teasingly before finally pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her lightly and withdrew, checking in with his eyes. She smiled slightly, and he kissed her again, then drew away to look at her one more time. On the third kiss she opened to him, inviting him in, and the first tentative touch of their tongues lit up her up like a bonfire. It really felt like a first kiss, like they were just beginning to explore each other.
And John was a thorough, avid explorer. He ran his fingers back through her hair to cradle the base of her skull, and she let her head grow heavy in his hands, allowing him to take control. She wasn’t usually so passive, but there was something irresistible about the juxtaposition of his obvious strength with the tender way he was touching her. She was being lovingly, expertly seduced, and it felt wonderful.
He kissed his way along her jawline, teasing her with the heat of his breath before tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. She tilted her head to give him better access, and he opened his mouth against the hypersensitive skin just below her ear and sucked softly, making her moan.
“You like that,” he murmured, letting his lips brush her ear again.
“Y-yes.”
His mouth and hands began to roam, finding other things she liked, and Marlena marveled yet again at how completely in-character he still was. He was behaving as if he’d truly never touched her before, as if every inch of her that he uncovered was completely new to him. New and apparently fascinating, as he seemed determined to find every hotspot she had.
When he moved behind her to unzip her dress and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He caught her, his palm warm against her lower belly, and drew her back against his body, holding her firmly in place and biting lightly at the tender skin beneath his mouth.
She gasped and shuddered, her knees nearly going out from under her.
“Come to bed with me,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He stood still at the foot of the bed and let her strip him. She took her time about it, exploring him as he had her, noticing anew the myriad small scars that covered his sturdy body. She kissed each one she found–why had she never done that before?–and heard his breath come short, his response to her every bit as strong as hers to him. It was a heady feeling, having this effect on him. And when she was done with him he finished undressing her with the same careful attention to detail, petting and kissing every part of her with equal appreciation, until finally she was bare before him, shivering even though she was anything but cold.
Then they lay down, and somehow they were, in those first moments, as awkward as new lovers. Too many knees and elbows, wanting each other but not quite able to get everything to fit together properly. And just about the time they finally got it figured out, John suddenly rolled away from her.
“Wait,” he said.
Marlena pushed up on one arm to see what in the world he could possibly be doing, and he rolled back and dropped a familiar gold foil square onto the sheet between them. She almost laughed, taken aback at the lengths he was willing to go to in the name of playing the game. It had been a very long time indeed since they’d last had any need for a condom.
She hadn’t forgotten how to roll one onto him, though, and somehow the process was far more erotic now than she remembered it having been then. Possibly because it contributed to the forbidden nature of this mutual fantasy, making it feel a little more dangerous, a little more real.
When they settled together again, on their sides with her leg draped over his hip, her heart was racing like she’d run a marathon. She hadn’t been this nervous about sex since their actual first time all those years ago.
“Easy,” John whispered, and drew her into another of those deep, drugging kisses he was so very good at. This time when they broke apart he moved down to lavish attention on her breasts, teasing for a while as if he didn’t know what she wanted before finally suckling softly. Marlena could feel the sweet pull of his mouth deep inside herself, and she moved restlessly, running her fingers through his hair and rocking her body against his.
He stroked his hand up the inside of her thigh and finally touched her intimately, groaning a little when he found her wet and open, his fingertips gliding easily along her swollen folds. Marlena shuddered at the sensation as well. She’d been wet for him from the moment he’d first touched her down in the bar, and she’d been waiting for this moment ever since. She unthinkingly laid her hand over his to guide him and then froze, embarrassed at having gotten so caught up in the game.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, nuzzling the soft skin over her breastbone. “You can show me what you like.”
So she relaxed and settled her hand over his again, guiding his fingers to her secret places, teaching him how to touch her. He was an apt pupil–not surprising, considering that he’d been the one to teach her years ago exactly how good some of these touches could feel. John had the most talented hands she’d ever encountered, gentle and deft and oh-so-sensitive to her body’s subtle signals, and he was in rare form tonight.
“Can you come from this?” he asked softly when she began to rock against his fingers.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Then let me give you that,” he said, and lowered his mouth back to her breasts, the movement of his fingers never faltering.
He brought her off that way not once but twice, pressing his fingers inside her the second time and opening her up, leaving her a gasping, shaking, sweaty mess. Pleasure was still pulsing through her in waves when he nudged her onto her back and moved to cover her. He slid his hand underneath her hip and lifted her a little, and she was suddenly very aware of his size and strength, of the power in his body and the iron control he had over it.
“Okay?” he asked, looking her in the eye.
Marlena wasn’t even entirely sure what he was asking–Are you okay? Is this okay? Are we okay?–but the answer was the same in any case.
“Yes.”
He thrust, and thirty years fell away in an instant, carrying her back to the very first time he’d ever been inside her like this. To the moment every nerve ending she possessed had fired as one and announced, Oh, this is new. To the sharp, shocking certainty that had accompanied that realization. She had repressed it almost instantly–she’d repressed it for years afterward–but she had known.
And now they had come full circle, from strangers becoming lovers to lovers pretending to be strangers.
“Doc?”
She blinked and found John looking down at her with concern. Her John, not John-from-the-bar.
“I love you,” she answered, putting an end to the game.
“I love you, too,” he echoed, and dropped onto his forearms to kiss her.
A switch flipped, and sex became lovemaking. Slow, intimate, face to face, eyes open, breathing one another’s breath. Marlena cried unabashedly when she came, clinging to him even as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up against his chest, both of them shaking.
He held her, after, running his fingers through her hair and petting her gently until finally he was forced to roll away for a moment to deal with the condom.
“I do not miss these,” he said with real distaste.
Marlena finally let out the laugh she’d been holding back for most of the evening. “Oh, honey, neither do I, but that was priceless. You really did think of everything.”
“Yes, well, I had a bet to win,” he said, pulling her back into his arms and dragging the covers up over both of them.
“You did win,” she admitted, and snuggled close to him. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you was a really good line.”
“Because it was the truth. I don’t ever–” He kissed the top of her head. “–want to say goodbye to you again.”
“Feeling’s mutual, sailor. You’re stuck with me.”
“Then I’m safe in assuming that you won’t be going back to your own room tonight?”
“Very safe.”
He reached up and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. “G’night, Doctor Doctor Evans.”
“Good night, Mister Black.”
The Jarlena Journal 