Chapter Seventeen
At lunch Mike was even more animated than usual. Exuding confidence from the sale, he kept the conversation lively. He even risked allowing his grilled swordfish to get cold, so he could involve the rather stone-faced Chad Stewart in a discussion about the present value of capital versus its future value in a non-inflationary economy. Mike explained why leveraging a company’s capital assets made perfect sense, especially given the 1997 tax laws. Julie quickly became bored with the topic, especially since it was clear to her that Mike was attempting to impress everyone with his knowledge while also making sure that they would each go away from today’s lunch thinking it a worthwhile investment of their time. If this was wining and dining, she considered it rather unpleasant.
As the waiter was pouring coffee, Bill Clark got a call on his cellular. While listening, a curious look came over his face, one indicating surprise or consternation or perhaps both. “You can’t be serious,” he said. And then, after a brief pause, “Okay, I’ll tell them. Thanks for calling.”
Bill folded up his flip-phone and shook his head. “You’re not going to believe what’s been going on while we’ve been hard at work here,” he said, directing his comment to Mike.
“Try us,” Bruce replied.
“That was Jackie, back at the office. She just heard a news bulletin on the radio warning motorists to stay off the roads and freeways, especially down in the Valley. Apparently, a bridge has flooded on the 101, and there was a mudslide on the Coast Highway. Both roads are shut down. Nobody’s going anywhere. Meanwhile, several major surface streets are flooding from high water and storm sewer overflow. The authorities are saying that the city is virtually stopped with gridlock, and it’s not even rush hour yet.”
“Oh boy,” Bruce said. “I hope you two weren’t planning on getting back home before dinner time.”
“No worries,” Mike said. “Neither of us have anyone to hurry back to. We’ll be fine.”
But Julie was concerned that she could miss her sociology class, and, while walking out of the restaurant, she took the opportunity to get in a private word with Mike, reminding him of her commitment.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about class if I were you,” he said. “If things are as bad as they’re saying, I’m sure the university will cancel all of its night classes. If you like, we can give them a call from my car phone.”
“I would like,” Julie said.
“Consider it done.”
Once in the car, Julie dialed the university to set her mind at ease. As luck would have it, Mike was right. Though the official announcement had not been made yet, the woman from the administrative office confidently stated that they would be shutting the school down very shortly. There would not be any classes tonight.
Julie thanked her and hung up. “You called it,” she said. “They’re canceling all evening classes.”
“Well...Now we’ve got no place to go and nothing to do except watch the rain,” Mike told her. He was idling the BMW in the restaurant parking lot, defogging the window glass. “We better not risk driving home right now if the roads are as bad as Bill said.”
“Why not turn on the radio and catch a traffic report?”
Mike did so while pulling the car into an empty space in the lot. They sat and listened. Mike reached over and took her hand. “Thanks for your help today. It went perfectly.”
“You’re welcome. Only I didn’t do much.”
“You did more than enough.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
The familiar musical feed to the traffic and weather report interrupted them, followed by a female announcer’s voice:
“Our traffic aircraft have all been grounded because of the unusually heavy cloud cover and poor visibility, but KFWB radio has just learned that the California Highway Patrol has declared a state of emergency on all area freeways due to flooding and the threat of mudslides. CHP is asking motorists to refrain from driving anywhere if at all possible. If you do go out on the roads, you should be prepared in case you have to abandon your vehicle. Many road surfaces are flooded and impassable, and the CHP is warning that officers will be removing and impounding abandoned cars. The best bet is to stay put, Don.”
“That’s right, Elise. Although I’m sure some of our listeners are wondering how they’re going to get home from work, or if they might be better off spending the night at the office.”
“Well they need to keep in mind that they’ll be traveling at their own risk.”
“You and I, on the other hand, we’ll probably be at the station for awhile.”
“You’ve got that right, Don.”
“As we reported earlier, thanks to a major mudslide, the PCH is closed in both directions just north of Las Flores Canyon Road in Malibu. There is no easy detour there, of course. In the San Fernando Valley, flooding has closed the 101 at the Haskell Avenue junction. There’s a backup now all the way to Tarzana where police are routing traffic off the freeway. The 405 is also closed due to the flooding of Ballona Creek. All southbound traffic is being detoured out the Santa Monica Freeway to I-5 where, at least for the moment, there are no reported problems, just heavy volume. Those of you headed home to the Valley better take the Golden State or 170 north to at least Van Nuys, or you’re going to find trouble. In the city, many surface streets are carrying water, so beware. Much of West L.A. is under water, and the Los Angeles River is already several feet above flood stage.”
“Farther down the coast, there are problems in the San Gabriel and Santa Ana River valleys as well...”
Mike snapped off the radio. “I’ve heard enough. It doesn’t much look like we’re going to be able to get home tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’d better try to get a hotel room or two before there aren’t any vacancies within a hundred miles. It’s a good thing it’s Thursday and not the beginning of the week.”
Reaching into the back seat, Mike grabbed his briefcase and hauled it forward. He opened it and removed his day planner, then closed it again and tossed it back over the seat. Planner in hand, he quickly perused the alphabetical phone listings. “Here’s the number of the Diplomat Suites where I stayed last week. It’s close by. Hopefully they can accommodate us.”
He dialed the number on his cellular. Julie simply sat there watching the rain pound the windshield. At the back of the parking lot, she could see palm trees swaying, their fronds whipping in the wind. The weather seemed to be getting worse; there was no sky, only low-hanging gray clouds, pregnant with rain.
“Hello,” Mike said. “I’m calling to see about a couple of rooms for the night... Yes, tonight... Well, I’m not going to be fussy; what have you got... Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Yes, I’m a club member... Uh-huh... Okay. Let me guarantee that one then.”
Julie watched as he took out his frequent guest and credit cards and read off the account numbers. Then he thanked the person and hung up.
“Well...?”
“Well, nothing. They only had one room left. Apparently, a lot of people have the same idea.”
“Aren’t you going to try someplace else?”
“No need. This room’s a suite. We’ll have plenty of space for the two of us. Besides, the clerk said he didn’t think there was anything open from here to Ventura.”
“I’m not so comfortable with this.” Julie wanted to stake out her position early.
“Don’t worry. The suite has two private rooms, and I’ll be glad to take the couch. All right?”
“She thought a moment. “I guess so. But just so you know, I’m not sleeping with you, Mike. And I don’t even have a toothbrush. Or a change of clothes.”
“We’ll manage,” Mike said. “And of course you don’t have to sleep with me.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “It’ll be fun. Kind of like being stranded on a deserted island. We’ll just have to make the best of it.” He put the car in gear. “Let’s go before the weather gets any worse.”
The suite looked roomy enough, Julie thought after sizing it up. It was freshly cleaned and scented with that peculiar hotel smell. The front part resembled a living room with a couch and chair, a coffee table, and a television credenza. There was also a dinette table and three chairs adjacent to a mini-bar and sink. The bathroom was gracious and contained both a shower and a whirlpool tub. The bedroom had a writing desk with matching chair off by the window, another television set, perched on top of a bureau, and a king-sized bed — plenty of real estate, she acknowledged to herself, in case she changed her mind about making Mike take the pull-out.
On the way to the hotel, she had been fighting down butterflies. Now she suddenly felt nauseated. What had she gotten herself into? What would her mother think regarding her handling of this sudden quirk of circumstance? It was odd, she thought, how her mother always came to mind at times when she was facing moral dilemmas.
Mike exited the bathroom where he had gone to relieve himself. He immediately picked up the phone in the front room. “I’m going to call the desk and have housekeeping send up some toothbrushes and toothpaste, a razor, and some shave creme.”
“Good idea,” she said, while inspecting the mini-bar list. She felt like she could really use a drink but wondered what Mike had in mind. The prices were outrageous: five dollars for a can of beer. But what did she care? Mike would be picking up the tab — as usual. She was beginning to get accustomed to that, at least.
Mike spoke with the clerk and then asked to be transferred to room service. A moment later, he was ordering a bottle of Fume Blanc, chilled. Julie ceased wondering what he had on his mind.
“I’m going to call the office and check my voice mail,” he said after setting the receiver down. “Do you need to talk with anyone there?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied, thinking: I can only imagine what they’ll be saying about me after this.
“Why don’t you take off your shoes and relax for a few minutes? I’ve ordered some wine. At least we don’t have to rough it.”
Julie’s head was swimming. This had all happened so fast. And now, here she was, about to play house with Mike Tattersall, a man who, two weeks ago, she didn’t know beyond the daily hello, how are you doing?
Two suppositions were competing for her attention as she sat down on the bed and pulled off her shoes. Mistrustful of his intentions, she wondered if he had planned this cozy arrangement in advance. Then again, she knew they wouldn’t be here at all except for the storm, and as clever as Mike was, he wasn’t capable of controlling the weather. So, their being here in a hotel room together, with nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass, must simply be happenstance — an act of God, so to speak. And if that were the case, which it most certainly must be, why not allow the evening to progress naturally? Just let’s see where things end up, she thought. I can always put on the brakes and tell him I need to be alone.
Mike hung up the phone and walked back to the bedroom where she was sitting, one leg up on the bed, massaging her toes.
“Here, let me do that for you.” He sat down next to her and lifted her leg onto his lap. His hands were strong. She winced as he pressed his thumb on the joint between her third and fourth toes. “Sorry, is that too much pressure?”
“A little. It’s sore from being in pumps all day. What’s up at the office?”
“Nothing of consequence. The weather is the big story everywhere. Apparently some of the boats in the marina are taking a lashing. Kind of makes me glad I don’t own a yacht. Just one more thing to worry about.” He continued rubbing her left foot with one hand while lifting her right leg onto his lap with the other. Julie scrunched her butt back slightly and pulled her skirt down. Even with that, there was way too much leg showing. She hoped he wasn’t going to get any ideas just because she was letting him rub her feet.
“This is really some coincidence, don’t you think?”
“What’s that?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant.
“The two of us here, together for the night. And, who knows? We may be stuck here for days.”
“I certainly hope not.”
“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, it’s either this or work. Which do you prefer?”
“Unfair question,” Julie replied.
“What do you mean — unfair question?” He was looking directly into her eyes, smiling, obviously in a playful mood.
Julie took him on, “It’s unfair because both choices have to do with you.”
“So what? I just want to know which one you’d prefer; that’s all.”
“All right then. I’m going to have to say work.”
“Work? Why work?”
“Because work I know. This, on the other hand...”
Mike let out a feisty growl, and switched from massaging her feet to tickling them. She giggled as she pulled her legs back from off his lap. “Wrong answer,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned over and brushed his nose against hers. “Let’s see if we can’t get you to change your mind.” He clasped her in a bear hug and drew her lips to his. Julie gasped from his grip but nevertheless offered him first her lips and then her open mouth. Her time had come, and she knew it. She was going to have to either put up or shut up.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door. The wine had arrived.
While the young man opened the bottle, Julie stood up, straightened her hair, and walked over to look out the window. They were on the fourth floor. But even from this height she could not see the distance of a city block. Rain was beating on the glass, and on everything else for that matter. For the first time since leaving home this morning, she thought about her villa. Fortunately, the landlord had put on a new roof before she moved in, but being as close as she was to the ocean, she wondered if this rain would flood her out. A freak storm a month-and-a-half ago had brought water up into her sun porch, and a few of her neighbors had to bail out their garages and kitchens. Two inches of early morning rain fell during an unusually high tide, and several doormats ended up clogging storm drains on Balboa Boulevard. Conditions today seemed equally bad to her if not worse, and if it was raining like this in Newport Beach, half her possessions could be floating by now. She couldn’t bear the thought of everything she owned getting ruined. Then what would she do? Plus, in spite of all the warnings about the expected severity of this year’s storms, she had not bothered to get flood insurance.
Meanwhile, back here at the Diplomat Inn, she was entirely in the hands of a near stranger. She watched as he poured two glasses of wine and carried them back to the bedroom where she stood. She quickly re-fixed her gaze north toward the mountains — except they weren’t visible. Only clouds could be seen hanging in the air like huge, gray ghosts, and water everywhere.
“Let’s turn on the TV,” she suggested. “I’m a little bit worried about my house. I’d like to see what the weather’s like down the coast.”
“Okay,” Mike said. “We’ve got all afternoon and evening. We can do anything you want.”
They sipped wine while switching between local stations and the Weather Channel, but nothing was said about how deep the water might be on the Balboa Peninsula. After about an hour, Julie could only suppose that no news was good news, at least where her neighborhood was concerned. Finally, Mike flicked off the tube. “It’s too depressing,” he said.
“What do you say we try out that whirlpool?”
“I don’t think so, Mike.”
“Just checking to see what you were up for,” he said.
“Well, I’m not up for that. It would be one thing if I had a bathing suit, but as you know...”
“We could go in wearing our underwear. It’d be a good way to get them clean for tomorrow.”
“Uh-uh. No way! I’ll just wash my things out in the sink later, thank you very much.”
“Okay. Just jet me know if you change your mind.”
“I’m not going to change it,” she said with conviction. But she wondered, Why not? The tub would probably be relaxing, and it might be fun to fool around with Mike in the water, and it would certainly be nice to see him naked, which he would, for all practical purposes, be. All she had to do was say the word, and he would be off running the water. Only problem was, she would end up just as naked, and there would be no stopping what might happen next. We’ll just have to remain clothed, she thought. Don’t want to tempt fate.
She was beginning to feel relaxed from the wine and suddenly quite warm as well. She got up from the couch and removed her suit jacket, setting it on the adjacent chair. As if on cue, Mike also stood up and walked into the bedroom where he tuned the bedside radio to a soft rock station. Coming back, he extended his hands toward her. “Let’s dance a little.”
“I’m a lousy dancer,” Julie said, sitting down again.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She hesitantly went along, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. He embraced her with both arms and she draped hers around his neck. She could feel her heart beating abnormally fast. She also recognized that a tingle had found its way up into her chest. This is really happening, she realized. It’s not a dream. Mike was obviously getting aroused as well. She felt him pressing himself against her. They swayed slowly to the music until the second song was over and the station cut to a commercial. Then, Mike slid his right hand behind her head and turned her face to his. Their lips met, and Julie felt herself melting in his arms.
After kissing her he reached down and put one arm under her legs. In one effortless move he lifted her from the floor and began carrying her into the bedroom. He released her onto the bed and started unfastening her skirt. Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, Julie was both stunned and mesmerized. Mike slipped off her skirt and then his own trousers, setting them both on the desk chair. He removed his watch and set it on the bureau. Next he turned the radio off and lay down next to Julie.
“Let me take off your blouse, so we don’t wrinkle it,” he said. Fortunately for her at that moment, his words broke the spell.
“No Mike. I don’t want you to do that.” But there she lay, on the bed in her pantyhose. And she could see that Mike was already enormously stimulated, his boxers scarcely concealing his desire.
“Come on Julie. I really want you. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you. I can’t wait any longer.”
“You’ve got to wait, Mike. I’m not ready to have sex with you. Let’s just enjoy being with each other.”
But he did not wait. In the next few moments, Mike Tattersall removed his shirt and undershirt until he was clothed only in his boxer shorts. Then he took Julie by the hands and sat her upright. While kissing her up and down her face with hot little kisses, he reached behind her to unbutton her blouse.
“Please Mike, don’t,” she protested.
“Don’t fight it Julie. You want me too; I can tell.”
For some inexplicable reason, she did not resist as he slipped her blouse from off her shoulders, though she believed she ought to stop him somehow. But he had read her right; she did want him. Her loins were throbbing with desire for him. Only she wasn’t going to tell him so.
Next, Mike unhooked her bra and removed it. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said before kissing her again, this time on the lips. Then he lay her down on the bed again and began to gently ease off her panties and pantyhose one leg at a time. And when he finished she lay there, naked.
My God,” he said. “Your body is exquisite.”
Julie felt her skin begin to crawl with goose bumps even as Mike’s hands roved all over her. She couldn’t believe that she had allowed him to undress her — completely, and that, despite her inner pangs of conscience, she did not stop him. This was so unlike her. She had always kept herself under control where sex was concerned. Danny had been her only partner, and they had married soon after she first allowed him to make love to her. Now, she lay here on a strange bed in a strange city with this man, feeling both the pricks of her own conscience and the exhilaration of physical arousal. And Mike was quickly driving her over the edge of restraint. She could not let him go on.
“Here,” he said. “I’ll give you the pleasure of taking off my shorts.”
She ignored his suggestion. “I’m a little cold,” she said, hoping to sound sincere, but it was a lie.
“Let me pull down the covers and we can climb in together.”
“I think I’m ready for that bath now.”
“Let’s make love first.”
“No, Mike, we’re not going to make love.”
“Come on, Julie. I’m about to burst with desire for you.”
“I’ll go run the water.” And with that, she jumped up off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She slipped into one of the two terry cloth robes that hung behind the door and began filling the tub. Mike appeared in the doorway, completely naked now. She could see that he’d lost some enthusiasm from his earlier state. Good, she thought. I’m beginning to get things back under control.
There was a knock on the door. “Who the hell can that be?” Mike said.
“I don’t know but you’re going to look mighty silly answering it like that.” She grabbed the other robe off its hook and tossed it to him. “Here, put this on first.”
It was a housekeeper delivering the requested toiletries. Mike asked her to wait momentarily while he got some money for a tip. When he arrived back in the bathroom, Julie was sitting in the tub.
They played around in the water for almost an hour. Julie thought it best to keep him there as long as possible. But she could not deny that she was having a good time. Fortunately, the whirlpool, though roomy, was not nearly large enough for acrobatics. But Mike still found plenty to do to keep occupied. When they started getting get cold, they washed each other and ran some clean, warm water to rinse.
While toweling themselves, Julie decided to make her stand. “I’m having fun with you tonight Mike, and I’m actually glad we got stranded here together. I just have to ask you to do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Please respect my feelings about going all the way. I can’t let that happen, and I...”
“Shh, Shh,” he said, cutting her off. “Let me just take you to bed. We’ll only do what comes naturally.”
“No intercourse, Mike. Do you understand?”
“Julie, Julie,” he said, whispering into her ear as he wrapped his long arms around her neck. “You can’t deny you want me, and I definitely want you.”
“That’s beside the point,” she said, pushing him away. “I need you to give me your word. I need to be able to trust you; that’s all.”
He thought a moment, then said, “You can trust me.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Good. I’m hungry.” she exclaimed, like a bolt out of the blue. “Can we order something to eat?”
“How can you think about food at a time like this?”
“Come on. We’ve got all night to be together.”
“I thought I was sleeping on the couch.”
“Not if you’re a good boy.”
They ordered room service and then sat on the couch watching TV and waiting for the food to arrive. Mike poured some fresh wine from the bottle they’d ordered. Julie eyed him, admiring his good looks. His face had turned bright crimson, no doubt from the bath and the way she was denying him, playing him like a yo-yo. She, on the other hand, felt fantastic, now that she was in command. There was only the tiniest twinge of conscience left nagging her. Their being together like this couldn’t possibly be within the realm of moral acceptability. But it was like Mike had said — they were doing what came naturally.
After they ate and brushed their teeth, Mike snapped off the television and invited her into the bedroom once again. He disrobed her first, then himself. He pulled down the bed covers. “Lie with me,” he said. “I want to hold you close.”
“As long as you mind yourself,” Julie said.
“I’ll be good.”
She climbed in with him, trusting him, looking forward to being held. She sensed more exhilaration than from a runner’s high, feelings she hadn’t felt in years. Perhaps it was the wine, but she now knew how much she had been missing the touch of a man.
Once wrapped in each other’s arms, they rolled around on the bed, holding each other tightly. Hardly a minute or two passed before she realized that their bodies were aligned physiologically, in nature’s way. She sensed the danger of their position. Mike obviously felt the natural alignment as well and he quickly took advantage of the physics at play.
“Mike, stop! You promised.”
“I can’t help it, Julie. You’re so ready and I’m so…so hot!”
In a split-second he had entered her, gliding in hard and fast. She fought to pull herself away. “No! No! Please Mike, get off me.” She screamed and pushed against him, but it was useless. He had her drawn tight to himself and was holding her there with his embrace. She beat against him with her fists, but he just kept thrusting himself into her soft, moistened flesh.
She shrieked in agony and began to cry, feeling both physical pain and mental anguish, but just that quickly it was over. Mike was spending himself inside her, his whole body convulsing with the delivery. Then his muscles began to go slack. She quickly squirmed out from underneath him. Leaving him there on the bed, she grabbed her robe, escaped to the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.
Thoughts whirred in her head — frightening thoughts, thoughts of despair and of deep remorse. She imagined herself getting pregnant with his child. She was undoubtedly still fertile at forty. And unlike Danny, Mike had probably not had his tubes snipped.
She then envisioned herself at the doctor’s office receiving a diagnosis of “HIV Positive,” or “Genital Herpes,” or some other equally horrifying, sexually-contracted malady. She felt dirty, but mostly she worried how she could ever face him again.
She could not face him. But neither could she remain in this bathroom all night. One thought in particular kept ringing in her head like the tolling of a church bell — she had been raped!
Mike Tattersall had raped her.
There would never be any going back to the way things were before — hopeful and anticipatory, loving and warm. Her trust in him had been completely violated. He ruined everything for one fleeting moment of gratification. Their relationship and future had been sacrificed for one body-racking orgasm.
Certainly, he would not see it the same way. He’s much too self-absorbed to feel any of this, she realized. She could only guess at his thoughts when a knock came on the door.
“Julie, open up. I want to talk to you.”
“Damn you, Mike.”
“Julie, come on. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Go away, Mike. Leave me alone.”
“I just got carried away, that’s all.”
“Right. And that’s what I’m going to tell the police when they find your body! ‘I just got carried away, that’s all.’ Damn you, Mike, that’s all. Damn you to hell!”
There was no reply.
Julie Baker Predmore slumped to the floor in the private bathroom of room 415 and wept. She was dressed only in the hotel-provided attire — a white robe with an embroidered ‘Diplomat’ logo on the left breast. Outside, a massive storm raged all across the Southland, a storm that was not only making a mess of L.A., but of her life as well. And now, as if she were in some sort of queer, harmonic balance with the elements, there was an equally gigantic storm raging in her heart.