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Falling in Love
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CLAIRE
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Claire Ogilvie couldn't get Maxwell's new image out of her mind. At three o'clock in the morning, she was still awake. Behind her mind's eye, she saw him in his tight leather pants with a thick bulge in front. His cockeyed smile and the tilt of his fedora made her pulsing blood run hot. She rolled over, pulling the duvet with her. Finally, she threw it aside and lay across the sheets. Sweat pasted her silk negligee to her stealthy body.
"I can't fall in love," Claire moaned, sitting upright. "I'm married!" She flopped onto the mattress and, pulling her knees up, hugged them tightly.
Dammit, Claire muttered in frustration. Gerald replaced Maxwell in her thoughts. She chided herself for being young and stupid. Her mother and father had wanted her to wait until she was older before plunging into matrimony. Back then, she thought she knew it all. She thought she knew Gerald.
Claire admitted she was wrong. At the time, she was too young to know anything. Now, she wanted Maxwell but could not have him. Her Catholic upbringing would not allow for a divorce. Although her parents were lax in their religion, they clung to certain aspects of it. They were strict about divorce and unhappy about Claire's sudden departure.
Claire did not tell them the reasons for her abrupt flight. She couldn't bring herself to talk about the physical and sexual abuse she endured. Instead, she bottled it inside her and continued her life as though nothing happened. Maxwell's appearance changed the situation drastically. Claire knew she had to do something about Gerald.
Arriving at the recording studio early, Claire sat in on Maxwell's first session with the record producer, Mr. Slim. Maxwell spread out his portfolio on the table, and Mr. Slim studied his sheet music for an interminable period. He had to decide which tracks to record and the arrangements. Finally, he created a pile of possibles and discards.
"What's wrong with this one?" Claire asked, rifling through the discard pile. She picked it at random.
"Nothing wrong with it, young lady," Slim answered curtly. "We are limited to only a few cuts. We might use that one another time, depending."
"Depending on what?" Claire continued caustically.
"On whether Maxwell succeeds or fails," Slim countered abruptly. "I don't see what your interest is, young lady. Either stay in the background or get out."
"I'm an interested party," Claire declared hotly. "I'm going to ensure Maxwell gets a fair shake around here. Uncle Maynard…"
"Your Uncle Maynard wants this guy fast-tracked," the record producer stated, leaning back in his chair. "It won't happen if you interrupt every two minutes. I'll give the boy a fair shake."
Slim returned to his task, and the hours dragged past noon. When Maxwell's stomach growled noisily, Claire insisted on a lunch break. However, instead of breaking up, Slim ordered sandwiches, and they continued to work.
"Dinner tonight?" Claire whispered, leaning into Maxwell's ear. Grinning, he nodded his assent.
"Are you finished playing the dating game?" Slim grumbled. His thin face wore a bored expression.
"Yes," Claire snapped, throwing the producer an arrogant smirk.
Finally, at nine o'clock in the evening, Slim called it a day. Grabbing Maxwell's arm, Claire dragged him to the cloakroom. She pushed his new leather jacket at him and threw her own over her shoulders. Grabbing his hand, she rushed for the elevators. She hailed a cab when they reached the street.
"I thought we would never get out of there," she exclaimed, her heart racing. Giving the cabby an address, Claire sat back and leaned against Maxwell's side. He put his arm around her and drew her close.
"Where are we going?" Maxwell asked. He thought they would stop at Oliver Week's café.
"My place." Claire snuggled closer.
"Don't you live with your uncle?"
"Yeah, but Uncle Maynard went to his country house with Vince. We have the place for ourselves. I'll make an omelet and then…well…whatever."
"I like the ‘whatever’ part," Maxwell murmured, kissing her temple.
"Me too." Claire wrapped her arms around his body and brought her lips to his. When he pulled up at Ogilvie's flat, the cabby had to clear his throat three times.
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******
Claire stretched and rolled over. Her naked body sank into the soft mattress, and a warm sensation overwhelmed her. Reaching out her hand, she explored the silk sheets until she found Maxwell. Flattening her palm against his chest, she rubbed it in rhythmic circles. She breathed deeply and sighed.
‘This is what real love is,’ Claire thought, sighing. Maxwell’s touch was soft and tender. He used her body gently and welcomed her tentative explorations. Their bodies merged and drew from each other. They were as one instead of one dominating the other.
Claire shuddered when Gerald’s image flashed behind her closed eyes. She wished she’d met Maxwell first. Then she wouldn’t have the awful memories of the abuse she endured.
Maxwell stirred and turned onto his side. Reaching out, he pulled Claire against his taunt form. She reacted immediately. Their bodies merged as one.
Breathlessly, Claire stared up at the ceiling. Her heart pounded rapidly beneath her heaving breast. She wanted to shout with glee, to rise from the bed and dance. Her high school experiences with Gerald seemed meager in comparison with Maxwell. Even at his most abusive, her husband could not perform with her current lover's stamina. She chided herself again and again for her past mistakes.
"Are you all right?" Maxwell asked, his voice floating to her as though over a great distance.
"Oh yes," she answered, her voice a mere wisp.
Claire sat up and hugged her naked legs. Strands of platinum hair fell over her eyes; she didn't bother to push them away. A sexy smile spread across her face. When Maxwell reached out to stroke her arm, she shuddered involuntarily.
"Are you sure?" he asked solicitously.
"Make love to me," Claire murmured, her lips barely forming the words, "again."
"And again and again," Maxwell suggested, kissing her lips.
"Again and again."
In the morning, Claire awoke feeling guilty. Maxwell slept beside her, his brown hair forming a halo on the pillow. She should wake him and tell him about Gerald. Although it broke her heart to disillusion him, she longed for an honest relationship. A tear slid from beneath her eyelash, and she dashed it away.
Silently, Claire rose. Draping a silk robe over her shoulders, she wandered into the kitchen. Taking out a frying pan, she began preparing the omelet she had promised Maxwell the previous evening. Funny how quickly they had forgotten it. She grinned widely.
The scent of frying eggs woke Maxwell up. He slid into his trousers and followed his nose into the kitchen. Framed in the doorway, he appraised Claire. He liked her soft, naked curves beneath her filmy negligee. Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.
"Good morning, beautiful," he sang, his voice deep and resonant.
Claire's body tightened involuntarily. Her mind was involved with Gerald, and she thought it was her husband behind her instead of Maxwell.
"Something wrong?" Maxwell asked, perplexed.
"No," Claire stated sharply. "Yes," she amended, breathing deeply. "We have to talk."
Claire plated the omelets and placed them on the kitchen table. Indicating the chairs, she asked Maxwell to sit down. She poured coffee and joined him. It was time to discuss Gerald.
Nervously, Claire gnawed on her lower lip. She did not know how to begin. If she spoke about the terrible abuse, she would break down. Until that moment, she had always shown her strong side. What would Maxwell think if she began to sob?
"What is it, Claire?" he asked, reaching for her hand. He took it gently and brought it to her lips. "I love you."
Claire melted when he stated the three words. Sincerity filled his solemn eyes, making her heart pound wildly. She knew she couldn't hurt him, not now…probably never. Her bravado fled, leaving her feeling deflated.
"Uncle Maynard is going to make you a big star," she finally remarked, faltering over her words. Inside, she chastised herself for failing in her objective. "I know you're grateful to me for causing all this. I…I don't want you to think…well…you must do stuff with me now because…"
Maxwell sat back and pushed his omelet aside. He could hardly believe Claire's words. Somehow, he felt used. If she could think…
"I said I love you," Maxwell stated hotly. "I meant it. I would love you with or without Uncle Maynard. My career is separate from my relationship with you. I'm… I'm just not like that, Claire."
"I'm glad, Maxwell," Claire stated flatly. "I'm real glad."
Lifting his fork, Maxwell started to eat his breakfast. He smiled at Claire without noticing her change in attitude. Across from him, she stared down at her omelet in disgust. She hated herself.
Somewhere down the road, Claire faced a day of reckoning. Gerald hovered somewhere in the background. He must know where she was; someday, he would come for her. She dreaded that day…for her and for Maxwell.
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