Breaking Perfect (12 page)

She chuckled. His hands wrapped around her waist and traveled
upwards until he cupped her breasts through her fitted T-shirt. She gazed down
at her fingers covered in flour and sticky dough. A sprinkling of flour
flurried to the floor. She couldn’t see where it landed, but knew it was there.

“What are you making?” He plucked at her hardening nipples
and she sagged into his hold and sighed.

She swallowed. “Sausage and biscuits.”

“Mmm. Have I ever told you how much I love your biscuits?” He
cupped her breasts suggestively.

His erection nudged against the back of her thin eyelet
skirt. “Mason, we have a guest in the house.”

His hand traveled down low and then back up, under her shirt.
His warm fingertips coasting over the soft skin of her belly made her body
shiver and a yearning for him began to fill her tummy. “Don’t worry. Sean’s
always been a sound sleeper.”

“I have dough all over my hands,” she whined, playfulness
masking how much the mess truly bothered her.

“Then you’d better keep them on the counter.” He reached up
and placed one palm flat on the cool marble surface, then the other. More
powder fell to the ground, this time sprinkling the edge of the lower cabinets.
“God I love it when you wear skirts.”

Cool air touched the flesh of her backside as he flipped up
her skirt and all thoughts of flour dusting her clean floors temporarily
vanished. “Mason! We’re in the kitchen!”

“I know.” His hand slid beneath her silk panties and over the
cheek of her ass. The thin strap pulled away from her hip as his hand nudged
its way to her front and cupped her sex. “This…” He rubbed the smooth surface
of her pussy. “I love.”

Her weight pressed into her palms balanced on the lip of the
counter for support as her body warmed. Mason’s foot tapped at the inside of
her ankles and she widened her stance. He leaned into her so that she was
somewhat hunched over the messy surface as he rubbed his cock up and down over
the cleft of her ass. Her panties and his sweats seemed almost inconsequential.

This new, aggressive side of Mason spoke to some baser part
of Liberty. It was like robbing Peter to pay Paul. Her compulsion eased just
enough to let him in and in the end, the result of her surrender, was her sweet
reward. Mason brought a flash of silence and peace to her that she’d been
chasing for years.

She could trade a dusting of flour for those few seconds of
peace. She could stomach putting off her routine a few minutes for those
luxurious seconds of utter tranquility and stillness within her mind. She only
hoped the price was not more than the profit in the end. It was a gamble with
her sanity, forcing herself to relax long enough to reap the benefits of what
she coveted most, an unbroken moment of perfect serenity.

He moved his fingers the slightest degree and the tip of his
index finger pressed, not into her slit, but right under the hood and onto her
throbbing clit. Her body jerked at the sensation.

 
“I want to make you
come in the kitchen, Liberty. And when I eat your biscuits, I’m going to
remember that you came while making them.” He whispered into her neck as he
licked and kissed her flesh.

Mason’s finger began to softly flick up and down as his other
palm pressed into her abdomen, holding her against him, the slight restraint
working to amplify every twitch and brush of his body against hers.
 

Someone cleared their throat and Mason stilled. Mortification
ran through Liberty like ice water through her veins.

Mason’s softly whispered, “Fuck.” And she knew she hadn’t
imagined the sound.

He slowly removed his hand from her panties and from under
her shirt. The cool weight of linen over her rear replaced the warmth of his
body as he stepped back. Although he was no longer touching her intimately, he
still used his form to shelter her from Sean’s view and she was grateful for
that.

“You gonna be okay?” her husband whispered.

Her body was totally aroused, but he wasn’t asking about the
state of her body. He was asking if this was going to ruin her day and in turn
totally alter the course of his. She’d already had one episode that week. She
refused to have another. Her head tipped in a tight nod and he pressed a brief
kiss to her neck and stepped further back then turned.

“Sleep okay, Sean?”

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t mean to…”

She caught Mason as he shook his head at Sean and their guest
thankfully dropped it. “Breakfast should be ready soon. What do you say I give
you a tour of the house? About thirty minutes sound good, Lib?”

She bit her lip hard and nodded, unable to face them. When
she heard their retreating footsteps fade into the foyer she sagged in relief.
This was exactly why kitchens were meant for cooking and not much else!

Chapter Five

Sean followed silently behind Mason as he led the way through
the echoing foyer and up the floating staircase, each step a suspended plank
providing
an airiness
to the space that Sean
considered quite fitting with the simplistic style and clean lines of the
house. It struck him as odd, how some parts of the house seemed so warm and
others so cold.

Some rooms, like the guestroom he stayed in, were furnished
in warm wood tones and plush fabrics that combined shades of sea green and
robin’s egg blue to perfection while others were so monochromatically done he
felt as though he should be wearing a hospital gown and preparing for a medical
procedure.

The dark stained wood steps gave way to pristine white carpet
running through the second floor hall. There wasn’t a spec of lint on the rug,
nor a footprint, or stain, or smudge anywhere. This wasn’t a cream color rug in
the white family either. No, this was pure ass white. Maybe it was brand new or
something.

They turned into a small nook with an inset door. Mason
opened it and Sean followed him inside and then froze.
Holy fucking shit.
They were standing in a guy palace.

Heavy leather club chairs faced a seventy-inch LED flat
screen. Behind them was a red felt top pool table that, by the looks of the
detailed undercarriage, was custom made. A large oak desk, equally detailed,
sat off to the right. The room was large enough that furniture could sit
cockeyed in the middle of different areas of the space and still look right, as
if creating airy sections and rooms without walls within one generous space.
But it was the back of the room that had him drooling.

The entire back wall was covered with top shelf liquors
beautifully displayed in front of the mirrored back. Overhead racks in the
cabinets dangled snifters and goblets and martini glasses of all kinds of
shapes and sizes. In front of the wall was a twenty-foot brass railed saloon
style bar fitted with ten leather stools, each complete with brass grommets.
The taps peeking over the top of the polished wood showed all names of
expensive imports.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve turned into James Bond. Either that or
I’ve just entered the bat cave.”

“This is my office, or study as Lib likes to call it. This is
one of my domains in the house. You’re welcome in here whenever you’d like
while you’re our guest.”

Sean didn’t know if he should say something about what he’d
walked into in the kitchen. Mase’s tone was clipped. His words were friendly,
but his mannerisms clearly showed he would rather be fucking his wife right now
than giving him a tour.

Sean walked over to the bar and ran a hand over the smooth
top. “This is really nice, Mase. You must be a kick ass surgeon.”

“I do all right.”

“Alright in this economy doesn’t reflect this. Dude, I’m
paying you a compliment. Take it. This is fucking beautiful.”

A little of the hostility left Mase’s expression. “Thank you.
Come on, I’ll show you something you’ll like even more.”

Sean smiled, a little more at ease now that they were talking
and Mase was acting more like himself again. He followed him down the hall and
to a nondescript door. “What’s this?”

“It doesn’t look fancy from here, but that’s because it’s
soundproof.” Mason opened the door and stepped into a dark space. There was no
echo to the room and the air felt a few degrees cooler than the rest of the
house. Their footsteps were muffled by the flat, sponge-like carpet and the
silent darkness made him extremely aware of their proximity.

“Shut the door and just bear with me for a sec,” Mase said as
he picked something up off a nearby piece of furniture.

Sean shut the door and was bombarded with Mase’s memorable
and suddenly familiar scent. Realizing he’d misplaced this memory, he quickly seized
it and cataloged it back in a pleasant part of his mind where it belonged. As
shameless as a kleptomaniac, Sean inhaled Mason’s deep scent, stealing it,
without requiring any rational cause, for himself. Nostalgic emotions tickled
the peripheral of his mind at the familiar spice of
Ralph Lauren
cologne
and
Ivory
soap. Mason smelled exactly the same. He was suddenly
self-conscious of his breathing, but before he could develop a complex, a roar
of sound circled the room scaring the piss out of him.

It was the boot up sound to an HD system just before a movie
begins. A soft amber glow streamed from recessed lighting in the carpet and
dispelled the darkness. The return of his sight caused his keen sense of smell
to ebb. If he thought the television in the study was huge than this movie
theater sized screen in front of him was mammoth. An antique style popcorn
maker and six leather recliners, complete with cup holders and massage remotes,
were the only other furniture in the room.

The screen slowly lit and the lights dimmed as soft
percussions began to play a slow beat over the Bose sound system, coming from
every direction. He knew those cymbals. The Paramount Pictures Mountain
appeared on the screen just as the first bell tolled and the beat picked up. “Shut.
The fuck. Up.”

Mase laughed. “I thought you’d like this.”

Tom Cruise’s name faded onto the screen, expanding about a
foot per letter and Sean was pretty sure he had a boner. The whole spiel about
the navy finding the top percentile of pilots played on the screen and Sean and
Mase both recited it without reading a word. They had it all memorized. It was
something every guy knew.

When they reached the last line they were each smiling,
recollections of reciting the litany of words a hundred times before, played
through his mind. “Today, the Navy calls it Fighter Weapon School. The Flyers
call it:” They waited for the screen to change and the gong to bang then
roared, “
Top Gun!”
What a bunch of assholes they were, but no matter how
old you were, if you had nuts, you still got a rush when you heard the intro to
Top Gun.

The whistle of the wind blowing over the aircraft carrier was
a work of theatric art on the sound system as it sung with the percussions.
When the radio instructed the pilot he felt like he was in the fucking cockpit.
In that moment he was Goose and Mase was Mav. The jet fuel burning out the back
of the plane on the runway bellowed as though it was right next to his head.
The floor vibrated with the treble and base and then…fuckin’ A, they were headin’
to the danger zone.

As Kenny Logins rocked out “Highway to the Danger Zone” a
nostalgic rush of adrenaline zipped up Sean’s spine and he smiled genuinely for
the first time in a long time. This was the shit he’d been missing for the past
thirteen years. Perfect Mase, always doing as he should when required, was
still perfectly okay with just goofing off and being a regular guy for the fun
of it.

“What do you think?” Mase yelled over the roar of the jets
taking off. The bass was so alive Sean could swear his hair was blowing back.

“What do I think? Are you crazy? This shit’s insane! I love
it!”

“Ready for this?”

He hit a button on the universal remote and a light came on
along the right wall. Suddenly a mantel began to rise from out of the floor.
Thirty seconds later they were facing a wall of back to back DVDs. There must
have been over two thousand.

“Shut. Up.” Sean walked over to the display. It was out of
this world. The disks were organized by genre and then alphabetically. They
even had color coded stickers on the spines of the cases to identify them.

Mase lowered the TV so he didn’t have to shout. “Just so you
know the sound won’t work if the door is open. It’s all wired to function only
when the room is set for optimal performance.” As he spoke he randomly pulled
about a dozen DVDs from the shelf and just as randomly slipped then back into
different slots. “You can help yourself to whatever you feel like watching and
if you want popcorn all you have to do is hit the switch and fresh kernels will
be popped and buttered for you in no time.”

Sean was speechless. What was there to say, really? This was
probably the coolest room he ever set foot in. Mase knew he would love it. He
didn’t have to tell him, but he would anyway.

As he opened his mouth to do just that Mase grabbed another
stack of movies. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

Mase stilled as if he was doing something out of habit and
hadn’t realized that mixing up a perfectly organized display was weird. “Uh, I
do it for Libby. She sometimes runs out of things to keep her busy and she
likes to organize stuff. I’ll tell her I noticed some cases were out of place
this week when I sense her getting restless and she’ll come in here and feel
better when she’s done.”

Sean didn’t want to overstep, but he had to ask. “What’s the
deal with her? I’m not trying to be a smartass,” he quickly assured him. “I
just don’t understand.”

Mase put the last case away and shifted uncomfortably.
“Liberty’s special. I’m not really sure how to explain it. Medically, it’s
called OCD, but it’s more than that. She has compulsions to make everything
perfect, or what’s considered perfect in her mind. She sometimes becomes
obsessed with details and if she’s having a really hard time coping with
something she thinks is off, she gets upset. You’ll see her do things that’ll
raise your eyebrows and then you get used to it and forget she has a clinical
disorder and chalk it up to just being quirky. It’s easy to forget she has it.
I’ve been living with her for so long, I just kind of adjusted my own routines
to help balance hers. So long as I don’t stray too far from our usual routine
we don’t have much of a problem and it’s smooth sailing.”

“Isn’t there, like, medicine she can take for that?”

Mase chuckled. “Like I said, it’s complicated. There are
medicines, but one of Libby’s quirks is that she has a very hard time
swallowing pills. She can get them down, but then she freaks herself out
because she feels like they’re stuck in her throat. She’ll continuously touch
her throat until she’s covered in hives from irritating her skin. Plus, if she
goes off the meds her issues return and as far as coping, she’s then out of
practice. All she’s doing is numbing out a part of who she is. We’d rather see
her work through it.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and Libby. She’s aware she has it. The level of
which she suffers from the disorder is extremely overwhelming to her at times.”

“Did you know she was like that before you married her?”

Mase laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I
wouldn’t have married her if I knew she had imperfections? Gee, thanks.”

“No, I just…Liberty told me you two got married, like, a
month after you met.”

Mase didn’t appear offended and continued to smile. “You guys
talked about that? Actually, it was two months. And yes, I knew she had it the
night I met her. It’s kind of what brought us together.”

“How do you mean?”

Mase looked at his watch. “Another time. It’s been twenty-seven
minutes. I told her we’d be back in thirty. Let’s not keep her waiting.” The
mantel returned to the floor and the screen went dark. They shut off the lights
and headed back downstairs. Libby was placing three glasses of orange juice
directly above three perfectly folded napkins just as they entered the dining
room.

She smiled when she saw them come in. “Perfect timing.”

* * * *

Because Sunday was Mason’s nightshift day, he was essentially
off Monday unless he got called in, which, by the sound of it, rarely happened.
If Sean’s intrusion that morning upset Liberty, she failed to show it. Breakfast
was outstanding. Sean couldn’t recall the last time he was so well fed. After
breakfast she busied herself with tidying up the kitchen and Sean and Mason
returned to the entertainment room to digest and watch the remainder of
Top
Gun.
There was little talking, but that was fine. When the movie was over
Liberty was again playing the piano.

The afternoon seemed to progress without incident. After
lunch they spent a good part of the afternoon playing cards and small talking.
No heavy topics were discussed and Sean got the chance to play voyeur and see
the inside workings of Mason and Libby’s relationship he imagined most people
didn’t see.

There was no denying Liberty’s appeal. She was one hundred
percent feminine, but in a more adorable way than a femme fatale way. When she
laughed she did so openly and her laugh was one that inspired the smiles of
others. She was what Sean would call a cotton kind of girl. She looked good in
natural fibers, wore them well, and anything over processed or weighted in
detail would only detract from her natural beauty and seem prosthetic.

Her frame was small and Mason frequently held onto her,
pulling her to his lap, tucking her under his arm. These were actions men, no
matter how reserved, tended to do with little women. She opened up sides of
Mase he would have never been able to fabricate in his own mind.

Mase was always an even keeled kind of guy, even back in his
twenties, but he was even softer with Liberty. Sean had a difficult time
reconciling the cries of ecstasy he overheard the night before with the chaste
handling he observed throughout the day. Even that morning, he had known simply
by the energy of the room that he walked in on a private moment, but he
couldn’t imagine the two of them experiencing the intense dynamic he and Mase
had shared years ago.

“Last card.”

Sean looked up as Liberty called out her status. Shit. He was
losing his shirt in this match. Time to put on his game face. Crazy Eights was
something he had known how to play since he was a child and he wasn’t too fond
of losing, no matter how cute Liberty was when she won. He slammed down a
deuce. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, not nice, Mr. O’Malley,” she pouted and picked up two
cards.

“All is fair in love and Crazy Eights,” he informed her.

Mase laughed. “You’ll see Sean is a cut throat gamer, Lib. I
can’t believe you won two hands already,” he said as he threw down a three,
causing Sean to miss his turn and bring it back to Libby. “I doubt he’ll lose
gracefully again at this point. My boy is a terrible loser.”

Sean’s eyes shot to Mase’s while Libby evaluated her hand.
Had he realized what he said? Yes. The look in his eyes told him he caught the
old endearment, however, it also told him it was a slip.

“There. Of course, I’m now holding suits that have already
been used. I can’t believe you put a two on me.”

Sean and Mase stayed locked in a non-speaking stare a moment
longer and then Mason turned away to take his turn. Every time Mase did that,
looked at him like that and then tore his gaze away, it felt like he was tearing
a layer of flesh with it. Sean tried to sound light, as if nothing had
distracted him. “Believe it. Cuteness will only get you so far in cards, my
dear. I plan on cleaning the floor with you.”

A few minutes later Sean was down to his last card and Libby
had a fist full of them. He watched as she struggled to find the perfect order
to fan them out in. His mind strayed, wondering if she preferred to line them
up by color, suit, or number. Any unknowing onlooker would see no difference in
the way she organized her hand from any other person, but after what Mase told
him earlier Sean found himself looking for signs of her Obsessive Compulsive
Disorder. He was right, the longer one was around her, the more used to it one became
and the harder it was to see.

“I’m out.”

Sean’s gaze shot from Liberty to Mase. “Son of a bitch. I
didn’t even realize you were close.”

“That’s because my strategy was to let my beautiful wife
distract you. See how well my diabolical plan worked? Shall I do my evil,
maniacal laugh?
Muahaha!”

Although Liberty only laughed at her husband’s joke, Sean was
incredibly self-conscious of how transparent he’d become. As always, Mason, no
matter how unobservant he appeared to be, missed nothing. Sean had been
intently watching Libby, maybe even ogling her at times, but for him to
scrutinize this part of Mase’s current life…it was mind boggling in so many
ways. He hoped Mase wasn’t pissed he was analyzing. He would have to be less
obvious. Really, he should stop, but she fascinated him.

“Indeed,” he admitted. “Try not to be so beautiful next time,
Liberty. I may be a terrible loser, but Mason is an even worse winner. If he
wins this hand it’ll be unbearable and I’ll have to go to a hotel just to avoid
being exposed to his obnoxious gloating.”

She laughed. “You’re as much of a sweet talker as Mason. You
two must’ve driven the girls on campus crazy. I can just imagine the traffic
through your frat house. Tell me, Sean, did Mason constantly have a tie hanging
from his doorknob or some other symbol for ‘Do Not Disturb’?”

“Are you asking if I was a whore in college?” Mase asked,
pretending to be completely appalled by her insinuation.

“Yes,” Liberty answered unrepentantly. She looked back at
him. “Well, Sean, was he? Was Mason the campus man whore?”

Sean busied himself with shuffling the deck and dealing out
the next hand. How to answer such a question? Finally he said, “Uh, actually
no. I mean we only met my sophomore year. Mase was already onto his masters by
then, so I have no idea how he spent his time while earning his undergraduate,
but during the two years I knew him I can only recall him ever going out with
one person.”

“Ah,” she said as if she’d just been given a valuable clue to
a puzzle. “An old flame. What was her name? Was she pretty? Mason never tells
me any of the juicy parts of his past.”

Sean cleared his throat and looked up at Mason. He should’ve
kept his mouth shut. Mason only looked amused at the corner Sean boxed himself
into.

Thankfully, Mase asked for coffee and Liberty’s focus was pulled
to solely meeting her husband’s needs. She disregarded their conversation and
stood, excusing herself to immediately go make a fresh pot.

After she left the room Mason looked at him. “That would have
been an interesting explanation to hear. Do me a favor and try not to go there
again.”

His words were reproving, but his tone was light. They looked
at each other for a long sobering moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell her?” he
finally asked quietly.

“I would have, but there never seemed to be the perfect moment.
That would be a long conversation and believe it or not, we have plenty of
stuff to keep us busy. I guess it just never came up.”

Sean only half believed him. He wondered if shame was partly
to blame for Mase’s secretiveness with his wife.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sean. I was never ashamed of
what we had. That was you.”

“Mase—”

Mason held up his hand to halt protests. “Don’t. The past is
the past and there is no changing it. We both know why things didn’t work out.
Unfortunately, it took thirteen more years of you living with your bigoted old
man’s abuse to realize how asinine your stance on the entire situation was. Did
you ever get the closure you were searching for?”