One Thing In Common
Jamie entered her tiny living room, an assortment of items in her hands. She set them down one by one on the thrift store coffee table: a glass pipe, a small baggie of weed, and a Zippo lighter. She straightened the frayed hem of her denim skirt and took in a deep breath, setting her blue eyes on the man -- well, more of a boy, really -- lounging on the small couch as if he were king of the world. "You know, you always complain about my place," she said, "but you never invite me around yours. You're probably embarrassed of me." The blonde sat down next to him and began packing the pipe, efficiently and deftly.
"Or you probably have a real girlfriend, some socialite in training who wears a brand new outfit every day and knows how to play stupid shitty sports like polo and tennis." She smiled and turned to him. "Am I right?" Taking a puff, she passed the bowl to him. "I mean, tell me how far off I am. I want to know."
Taking the bowl, Spencer Matthews smirked and shook his head. His black blazer sat folded over the back of a nearby chair, his red tie loosened around his neck. Black loafers sat on the floor, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. Spencer glanced at the contraption in his hands, but did not take a hit. Not yet.
"I'm not embarrassed," he answered with a shrug. "You know how important it is for me to keep things quiet with my job. My boss is out there telling everyone what a good, upstanding moral Christian he is -- do you really think it would help him if one of his assistants was seen parading about with a young, pretty thing like yourself while toting around a bong.
Michael Phelps can get away with that, cause he's just a dipshit in a pool. Those of us who play politics have to be a little more careful."
Jamie laughed, watching him handle the intricately designed glass pipe as if it were a small bomb. She wasn't a stoner, but she liked to smoke up on occasion. Whenever Spencer was around her seemed like a good enough occasion; she needed something to unwind herself around him. She wasn't usually a self-conscious girl, but everything from Spencer's shoes to his carefully tousled hair screamed good breeding, something that Jamie didn't know anything about. The only time she forgot about their respective social statuses was when they were in bed. It wasn't love, but she wasn't looking for that, anyway.
"So, what is it like working for the potential future mayor? Is he really as pious as he makes himself out to be?"
Spencer shrugged, still fiddling with the pipe in his grasp. He hadn't quite decided if he was in the mood for a hit of marijuana yet; it had been a rough day at the campaign office, and he knew it would relax him, but the mental fatigue was turning the Georgetown graduate student into a bit of a lazy boy. For the moment, simply lying on the couch without his shoes on seemed good enough.
"Can't say for sure," he admitted. "Adam's not that forthcoming with us. But it really doesn't matter how pious he is; what matters is how pious the people of Chicago think he is. That's all these elections are -- a popularity contest. People often vote for the guy they like and trust the most."
Deciding to take a quick hit, Spencer inhaled sharply before returning the pipe to Jamie.
"Take the President. He stands up there, smiles, promises change and hope, decides not to get down in the dirt with the Vietnam vet and caribou Barbie, and all of a sudden, everyone loves him. Next thing you know -- boom, White House."
Spencer smiled, a condescending sneer he showed more often than his mother would've liked -- had she actually been in the world of the sane. "Adam doesn't have to be righteous; we just need everyone to think he is."
She lit it again and took too deep of a hit, coughing slightly. Jamie set it down on the table reproachfully. "It just seems people like that, like Adam Thurston, are one thing in public and something completely different in private. To me, devout really spells hypocrite. But then again, I'm agnostic." The blonde grabbed the end of Spencer's red tie and tugged on it playfully.
"I'm perfectly content with using marijuana, underage drinking and premarital sex. I guess I'm a bad girl." She leaned in, using his tie to pull him close.
Spencer's smile lost some of its condescending nature, as he leaned forward to brush his lips against Jamie's. One of his hands slipped around her waist, and he could still make out the scent of weed still on her lips. "Long as no one finds out," he whispered, "Adam can be whatever he wants."
No longer feeling lazy, Spencer flipped over on the couch, pressing Jamie's back into the cushions and kissing her once more, though with a hint of possession this time. His other hand grabbed her left wrist and pinned it above her head, breaking off the kiss with several deep breaths.
"It'll be his head if they find him out, not mine."
Jamie smiled slowly, her red lips curving. Her palm grazed over the front of his pants. "Good to know." She liked the way he felt under the material, warm and substantial and somehow hers. She knew he considered her to be his, even though their relationship was anything but conventional, or official. They'd been doing this for about a month now, ever since he had walked into her bar with a couple of frat buddies. There was something about him that was different. He was still egotistical, supremely confident, but he also had the brains to back it up. And he had noticed her as something more than just the girl who brought him his beer.
"I might have forgotten to put something on before you came over," the blonde informed him. "Want to find out what it is?"
"I bet I already know," he shot back, his own hand reaching down between her legs. The smile grew and became more mischievous once said hand disappeared under her skirt. The warmth was considerable, and whatever vestiges of malaise remained in Spencer's body left at that moment, replaced by an inexplicable fire that always drove him when he was in this apartment.
"I knew it," he growled before leaning down once more, his kisses and soft bites littering the side of her neck.
A soft moan escaped Jamie's lips as she turned her head, giving him full access to the expanse of her neck and bare shoulder, the strap of her tank top slipping down her arm. His breath was hot against her skin, and she could feel pure arousal seeping out of her. She wanted Spencer, always wanted him, and in the physical sense, their arrangement never got old. They had christened her small apartment many times over.
Her fingers played over the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one at a time until his chest and stomach were exposed. "We're both way too overdressed."
Glancing down at himself, Spencer grimaced. "Yeah, you're right," he said, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor before undoing the tie and pulling if from his neck. The mischievous grin returned, his hand once again disappearing beneath Jamie's skirt. He let his fingers do a small, momentary dance, knowing just how much teasing Jamie would excite and frustrate her.
"Think I've got a better use for this tie, anyway."
She squirmed, the sensation of his fingers against her almost electric. Jamie had been with two other guys before meeting Spencer, and they had always just dove right in. He knew how to stoke the fire, so to speak, and when they finally, solidly connected, it was ... well, really good. The blonde eyed the tie, raising one eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" There was a note of challenge in her voice.
Grabbing Jamie's skirt and pulling it off her legs, Spencer tossed it over his shoulder. It landed on top of his shirt on the floor. "I haven't decided yet," he mused, feigning thought. "I mean, I could wrap it around your neck ... or I could tie your wrists together ..."
Another devilish grin, Spencer leaning in so his lips were mere inches from Jamie's right ear. "Or use the tie and something else to tie your wrists to your ankles, so you can't move."
A small tingle went up Jamie's back. She wondered if she trusted him enough for that. "You could tie my wrists together," she said, her hand continuing to tease him through his pants. "We haven't done that before." Weird things happened in her apartment, and she always worried that while they were fooling around, some random spirit would decide to drop in on her. She wanted to be somewhat mobile if and when that happened.
Grabbing the wrist between his legs, Spencer brought it together with her other, wrapping the red silk around them before tying a large, tight knot over them. Her wrists now bound, Spencer lifted Jamie's arms over her head so that they hung off the back of the couch. From here, Spencer could literally do whatever he wanted -- including lifting the tank top over her breasts to expose them.
He smiled again. Apparently, Jamie had learned to disavow underwear. Having long ago done that himself -- as a matter of convenience more than anything -- Spencer liked what he saw.
So much so, he just stood and stared for a moment. How could he just dive right in without appreciating the naked beauty before him? That wouldn't just be animalistic ... it would be wrong. Spencer's father always taught him to enjoy the finer things in life.
Jamie without her clothes on certainly qualified.
Jamie lay beneath him, looking up at him expectantly. "It's your turn," she said, gesturing with her chin to the pants that still covered up his bottom half. "Now that you have me here, all to yourself ..." Her dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she tilted her head back against the arm of the couch. She wriggled her hands a bit to make sure they didn't lose feeling.
Taking the hint, Spencer unfastened the leather belt before unzipping and shaking off his slacks, reaching down to do the same with his dress socks. Now, he stood completely naked in front of Jamie, who was also naked aside from the tank top bunched up above her chest. He snarled, but not in anger, mounting the couch once more to crash his lips against hers.
Was this love? No; Spencer was fairly certain he'd never have that, nor that he would ever want it. But his ... relationship, for lack of a better term, with Jamie satisfied a lot of his baser needs. While it was true Spencer usually wouldn't associate with someone his childhood contemporaries would consider "beneath" him, he gladly made an exception this time.
Besides, who said Jamie being beneath him was a bad thing?