The King
Page 51
Sam crossed her arms over her chest and looked away into the corner of the room.
“I grew up in a fundamentalist church. My parents called me their ‘tomboy.’ That’s the way fundies make lesbians disappear. ‘Just a tomboy...she’ll grow out of it.’ Mom made it her personal mission to make a lady out of me. Makeup. Pretty long hair. Dresses. Girl stuff. Her lessons didn’t take. It was humiliating,” she said, and he heard the anguish in her voice. “I don’t like talking about it. Sorry.”
“I understand. There are things I don’t like to talk about, either. But sometimes I have to.”
“I know,” Sam said, and she gave him a forced smile. “I told you they run reorienting camps. My parents sent me to one of those camps.”
“I see,” Kingsley said, fighting a wave of rage that someone had done that to his Sam. “I assume it didn’t take?”
“No. It didn’t take. And it was the worst month of my life. And I’ve had some bad months.”
“Did you hear anything about the Fullers that we can use?”
“Not that I know of. Some of the kids there hated him. Some didn’t know him from Adam. Some thought he was their personal Jesus. I wish I knew more. I want to see that church go down in flames as much as you do.”
“I’ll find something on him. There’s always something. Towel?”
Sam grabbed a towel and tossed it to him.
“Turn around,” he said. “I’m getting out.”
“Oh, now you’re getting modest?” Sam asked, glaring at him.
“Chapter two,” Kingsley said. “Only my husband is allowed to see me naked.”
“Fine. I’m not looking at you,” she said. “I’m looking at my clipboard.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
“You’re a dude and you’re my boss. I don’t want to see you naked.”
“I’m very pretty,” he said as he pulled himself out of the water and wrapped the towel around his waist.
“Will it make you happy if I check you out?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it actually.” Kingsley took off his glasses and set them aside. “Since you’re a worrier.”
But it was too late. Sam had looked.
“Oh, shit.”
Kingsley sighed.
“I was afraid of that,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Sam dropped her clipboard on the floor and walked over to him.
“I’m looking,” she said, and whistled to herself. “God damn, that must have hurt. What did that?”
“Bullet plus the surgery to dig it out.”
“Can I touch it?”
“I’m wet and wearing a towel, and you want to touch me?”
“Yup.”
“Look, Little Lord Fauntleroy, the reason I hired you to be my assistant was so that we could have some...” He paused and searched for the right word. “Distance between us.”
“I’m not giving you a blow job. I’m touching your scars.”
“Blaise gives me blow jobs. She doesn’t touch my scars.”
Sam looked into his eyes. Kingsley was acutely aware of the closeness of her body. Without his clothes on, he could feel the heat emanating from her. She’d shed her jacket and vest after he’d ordered her to “tone it down.” Suspenders held up her pin-striped trousers, and her white shirt was unbuttoned to the center of her chest. She might be dressed in men’s clothing, but he couldn’t deny how alluring and feminine he found her. At the V in her shirt he could see the slightest curve of her small but pert breasts. The last thing he needed was to get an erection and scare away the best assistant he’d found yet.
“Fine. I don’t believe in touching someone who doesn’t want to be touched.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I am, as you see, turning my back on you.”
She put one foot over the other and spun neatly around. “Now would you like to hear messages?”
“Not particularly. Do you think I should seduce Lucy Fuller?” Kingsley walked to his closet and dug for clothes. He heard something drop. When he turned around, he saw Sam picking her clipboard off the floor again.
“Seduce Lucy Fuller?” she asked, looking shocked and slightly disgusted. “Why?”
“It would cause a scandal if it got out she’d cheated on her husband. Might give us some leverage against Fuller.”
“Or make him a sympathetic martyr to his whole congregation. You know people always blame the wife and never the husband.”
“Good point,” he said. “I didn’t want to fuck her anyway.”
“Why not?”
“She had an entire chapter in her book on marriage on why sodomy is such a crime against nature even married couples shouldn’t engage in it.”
“That’s bizarre.”
“Sodomy’s not a crime against nature. Nature invented sodomy. If Mother Nature didn’t want us engaging in it, she wouldn’t have made it so much fun.”
“I can’t argue with your science. Poor Lucy. Her loss.”
“Poor Lucy? She’s richer than I am. Did you know that? Her books and videos fund the WTL empire.”
“They always hit the bestseller list. God only knows why.”
“The WTL empire is built on their perfect marriage.”
“I grew up in a fundamentalist church. My parents called me their ‘tomboy.’ That’s the way fundies make lesbians disappear. ‘Just a tomboy...she’ll grow out of it.’ Mom made it her personal mission to make a lady out of me. Makeup. Pretty long hair. Dresses. Girl stuff. Her lessons didn’t take. It was humiliating,” she said, and he heard the anguish in her voice. “I don’t like talking about it. Sorry.”
“I understand. There are things I don’t like to talk about, either. But sometimes I have to.”
“I know,” Sam said, and she gave him a forced smile. “I told you they run reorienting camps. My parents sent me to one of those camps.”
“I see,” Kingsley said, fighting a wave of rage that someone had done that to his Sam. “I assume it didn’t take?”
“No. It didn’t take. And it was the worst month of my life. And I’ve had some bad months.”
“Did you hear anything about the Fullers that we can use?”
“Not that I know of. Some of the kids there hated him. Some didn’t know him from Adam. Some thought he was their personal Jesus. I wish I knew more. I want to see that church go down in flames as much as you do.”
“I’ll find something on him. There’s always something. Towel?”
Sam grabbed a towel and tossed it to him.
“Turn around,” he said. “I’m getting out.”
“Oh, now you’re getting modest?” Sam asked, glaring at him.
“Chapter two,” Kingsley said. “Only my husband is allowed to see me naked.”
“Fine. I’m not looking at you,” she said. “I’m looking at my clipboard.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
“You’re a dude and you’re my boss. I don’t want to see you naked.”
“I’m very pretty,” he said as he pulled himself out of the water and wrapped the towel around his waist.
“Will it make you happy if I check you out?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it actually.” Kingsley took off his glasses and set them aside. “Since you’re a worrier.”
But it was too late. Sam had looked.
“Oh, shit.”
Kingsley sighed.
“I was afraid of that,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Sam dropped her clipboard on the floor and walked over to him.
“I’m looking,” she said, and whistled to herself. “God damn, that must have hurt. What did that?”
“Bullet plus the surgery to dig it out.”
“Can I touch it?”
“I’m wet and wearing a towel, and you want to touch me?”
“Yup.”
“Look, Little Lord Fauntleroy, the reason I hired you to be my assistant was so that we could have some...” He paused and searched for the right word. “Distance between us.”
“I’m not giving you a blow job. I’m touching your scars.”
“Blaise gives me blow jobs. She doesn’t touch my scars.”
Sam looked into his eyes. Kingsley was acutely aware of the closeness of her body. Without his clothes on, he could feel the heat emanating from her. She’d shed her jacket and vest after he’d ordered her to “tone it down.” Suspenders held up her pin-striped trousers, and her white shirt was unbuttoned to the center of her chest. She might be dressed in men’s clothing, but he couldn’t deny how alluring and feminine he found her. At the V in her shirt he could see the slightest curve of her small but pert breasts. The last thing he needed was to get an erection and scare away the best assistant he’d found yet.
“Fine. I don’t believe in touching someone who doesn’t want to be touched.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I am, as you see, turning my back on you.”
She put one foot over the other and spun neatly around. “Now would you like to hear messages?”
“Not particularly. Do you think I should seduce Lucy Fuller?” Kingsley walked to his closet and dug for clothes. He heard something drop. When he turned around, he saw Sam picking her clipboard off the floor again.
“Seduce Lucy Fuller?” she asked, looking shocked and slightly disgusted. “Why?”
“It would cause a scandal if it got out she’d cheated on her husband. Might give us some leverage against Fuller.”
“Or make him a sympathetic martyr to his whole congregation. You know people always blame the wife and never the husband.”
“Good point,” he said. “I didn’t want to fuck her anyway.”
“Why not?”
“She had an entire chapter in her book on marriage on why sodomy is such a crime against nature even married couples shouldn’t engage in it.”
“That’s bizarre.”
“Sodomy’s not a crime against nature. Nature invented sodomy. If Mother Nature didn’t want us engaging in it, she wouldn’t have made it so much fun.”
“I can’t argue with your science. Poor Lucy. Her loss.”
“Poor Lucy? She’s richer than I am. Did you know that? Her books and videos fund the WTL empire.”
“They always hit the bestseller list. God only knows why.”
“The WTL empire is built on their perfect marriage.”
