Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

“You shouldn’t be surprised by that,” I said. “I don’t agree with you on it, but I wasn’t about to argue.”

“So you don’t agree, huh? You know that Marc Tremblay was just being pigheaded.”

“I know, but that’s not the issue. There was something odd about the way the Porters were insisting on doing it all themselves. There’s no reason for them to want to avoid sharing the work.”

“You think they’re trying to hide supplies from us?”

“It’s not that. It’s just a feeling that they’re not being completely honest with us. I’m not sure I believe their story for being up at Silver Queen Lake in the first place.”

“I get what they’re doing,” Graham said. “Marc and Alain can sometimes be more trouble than they’re worth. They’re always questioning every decision, pulling their passive-aggressive bullcrap whenever they’re feeling underappreciated, which in their minds seems to be all the friggin’ time.”

“It doesn’t get us any further towards working together,” I said. “The best way to whip the Tremblays into shape is to get them used to how we do things around here.”

Sara laughed. “You’ve walked into this one, Baptiste,” she said. “Now you have no choice but to come with me this afternoon. We’re going to help the Tremblays count their inventory.”

“Help them? Who said anything about that?”

“It’s called an ambush. It’ll work better if there’s no warning beforehand.”

“Ah… I like the way you think,” I said. “And the way you look… and the way you smell…”

Sara laughed again as everyone else seemed to groan. We soon broke into two groups, with Sara and I bringing up the rear, our bodies locked together with our arms. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I wish we had more privacy right now,” she said.

“I like an audience,” I said.

She pretended to be offended. “ Mon dieu, Baptiste… you’re a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sick, eh? That’s an excellent idea. I’ll bet we can find a place in Cochrane that has just the outfit.”

“I don’t want to know…”

I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Sara the slutty nurse. That might be my new favourite.”

She pulled back and gave me a little shove. “You’re a perv. Besides… you just had your birthday. I think you blew your chance.”

“Your birthday’s coming up.”

She gave me her widest grin. “I already have a costume picked out for that.”

“Sexy accountant?”

“Nope… beekeeper. My biggest fantasy is layers of protective clothing to keep you off of me.”

“So… sexy beekeeper.”

“Very unsexy beekeeper.”

“I can still make it work. Remember, Sara… I reached puberty in an age when they still expected people to pay for porn.”

“Keep it up, Baptiste, and you’ll be magically transported back to the era of being a lonely virgin.”

I laughed. “At least being a virgin again will cut back on some of the itching between my thighs.”

Alanna and I never really had much sex. When you’re as busy as we always seemed to be, you tend to look at the person you’re shacked up with as some kind of adversary. If only she’d turned the dishwasher on, or remembered to move the wet clothes into the dryer… then maybe I wouldn’t be so goddamned stressed… and then maybe I’d want to have a little bit of midweek action.

On most days the house was a mess, and as douchey as it was I just didn’t have the energy to do anything about it, and by the time I was ready for bed I was really ready for bed and sex was the last thing on my mind. Well… sex with another person was the last thing on my mind. It’s funny how after a few years sex becomes just a variation on masturbation that’s often more effort than I felt like making. It was so tempting sometimes to just tell her I’m too anxious to sleep or to do anything else, so then I could go rub one off on the living room couch.

I remember the last time we had sex; it was the night before I left for up north, and we were so tired from packing that I think at first it felt more like a chore for both of us. But I started to kiss her neck and run my fingers along the line of her auburn hair, just above her right temple and the little divot from the frame of her glasses, and soon I was back to those days when we were first dating, when we were so horny for each other that we’d rush home and have sex on our lunch breaks, when things were so hot that I sometimes felt like my heart would explode and I’d die right then and there, young but especially happy.

So I kissed her some more and drew one finger down her cheek, and I listened to her breathe until I knew she was ready. I went down on her then, because I had the urge to do it and because she hadn’t asked me to, and I was there with my tongue and my fingers, hearing her moans and feeling her body tighten and contract. On some nights that’s enough to make her climax, and that’s just what happened that night. I moved my body over-top of hers and I entered her, and I looked her in the eyes and told her I loved her, and at that moment I meant it, and after a few minutes I finished… and then we laid together on the bed, both of us satisfied and for the moment, both of us happy with the other.

I think the sex with Alanna was better because of all those times she pissed me off. I think it was hotter because I spent half my time wishing she’d just leave me alone. I don’t think good sex is driven by love; I think it’s fueled by the kind of passion you get from occasionally hating the person closest to you.

I love Sara, but it’s not the same; she still seems too good to be true, so I know we need a little more time for reality to set in. In many ways she’s more sensual than Alanna, more willing to touch and be touched, as long as it’s in the right places.

Back when I was married, the idea of being with someone different and not knowing where to touch them was something I would have given anything to experience again. But when I’m with Sara I think of Alanna, of the way she loved feeling my lips on her neck, the way she loved the tracing of my fingers around the little ridge of her belly button.

One day I’ll probably start to be so accustomed to Sara’s body and bringing her pleasure that there will be nothing left that surprises me. On the one hand I hope that it helps me recapture some of what I had with Alanna, but I also worry that I’ll feel too guilty to enjoy it. It’s funny, but I’ve never felt like I’m cheating on Alanna with Sara. I think I’ll only start feeling that way once the sex really starts to pick up; one day it’ll be the best sex I’ve ever had, and that’s the day I’ll feel like a cheat.

After dinner we gathered in the living room as usual. I would have rather heard another selection from Ant’s diary or played some poker, but I knew that it was time to talk about the problem everyone was hoping would go away.

“I’m concerned about the Tremblays,” I said as I paced around the room.

“They’re not pulling their weight,” Lisa said. “Everyone knows that.”

“Glad I’m not the only one.”

“But what the heck are we going to do about it?” Graham asked. “When those guys aren’t falling behind, they’re crapping on every idea we have.”

“I think you guys are being too hard on them,” Fiona said. “They’ve had a rough time.”

“We’ve all had a rough time,” I said.

“But they came to us because they weren’t going to make it otherwise.”