Author's Note: Hello! First, please go read ramonesroxx's story "Perfect." This is a response to that story, and a way to let you all know that I'm alive. I promise I'll finish it. Don't worry- working on "All the Pain Money Can Buy," too. Enjoy!

1997

Cole

I turn on my heel and make a familiar stride from balcony to bedroom. Usually it's a ledge, so a stable foothold is appreciated. Usually I'm stripping off a maintenance man's uniform to reveal a tux underneath, and hoping to God no one notices we're the same guy.

Probably by the time Olivia opens her eyes, (Gregory blitzing her again the way he does, controlling every second of the game) I'm gone.

"Are you coming to bed, or what?" Caitlin smiles from under the duvet. "Jeez, you look like you saw a ghost."

Just Lady Godiva and her slobbering horse. "I'm kinda thinking of taking up smoking again. Scared of a lecture."

She sighs. "Why would you do that?"

"I like being out on balconies. Reminds me of Europe."

Soon, Caitlin is spooned against me, asleep. I stare at the window. Everything is churning in me like that hot tub water. She didn't stop. If she had shrieked and pointed, Gregory would've thrown me out with a live grenade in my pants. Just for seeing her gasping and naked.

Just for seeing it from the outside. Nevermind for being on the inside.

Being a Peeping Tom isn't illegal by common law- Gregory would know that. It's not like I had a video cam in my hand. But she had a perfect reason to have me banished for good, for my girlfriend to think I'm a complete pervert. No more asking about Olivia's due date. No more painful eye locks. No more awkwardness that could make your standing-on-end hairs fall right out, eyebrows and all. A win on every level.

But she just let me watch. She looked in my eyes as he pumped away. Why?

You know me. I'll never be able to let this go.

I know the first time she sees me and we're alone, she's going to slap me.

She's going to slap me hard and my face will freeze in the direction it was thrust for a second. I'm going to like the burning in my cheek. She's going to slap me and I'm going to like it. I might even get turned on. I think of all the possible slapping scenarios, then make a montage of them in my head set to classical music. Violins and slapping. Very artsy and European.

I realize the more time that passes until she gets her chance, the harder she'll slap me. I make sure someone is always around. Rose. Sean. Tiffany. Tiffany, her friend Amber, and Amber's boyfriend Lachy. Lachy is Irish and I can tell Olivia hates him. Let that anger build.

Olivia hasn't even been able to throw me a terrible glance that could wilt roses, and it's killing her.

I offer to do some odd jobs around the house to butter up the old man. Caitlin is delighted and Olivia can't come out here and hit me, because Cait is holding my ladder. I'm "fixing" the trellis I've broken several times scaling the house, in a tank top and nut-accentuating shorts. I've got a black Lakers hat on, turned backwards, a tuft of sweaty hair shooting out. I must seem so young and cool compared to how Olivia feels in a state of "geriatric pregnancy," as doctors call it. I feel her eyes on me from her window.

Keep it coming.

"I'm loving the uh, bike shorts," Caitlin snickers up at me. "I'm starting to wonder if a handyman scenario straight out of an X-rated movie is unfolding here."

I climb down, jumping from the third rung to her embrace. "Why not?"

"Whoa, I'm kidding."

"How about the Jacuzzi?" I smile, kissing her gently.

"Hon, no. Ew. My parents are always in there!"

"I'll clean it first. One of my handyman duties. How about you meet me there in ten minutes? Put a robe on…nothing underneath."

"What have you done to me?" she giggles. "The valedictorian getting naked outside before sunset, no less. I'll be back. Ten minutes." She holds my hand as long as the length of my arm will allow.

"Cool beans," I call after her. "Hey, if you're looking for something to keep your mom busy, that memory box is still in your room. I bet that'll get her all nostalgic for a while."

And then, guaranteed, Olivia will be having a wistful moment out on the balcony, until she hears the swirling water. Sees the show.

Time to sanitize the tub, but unfortunately not my mind. The flashbacks hit me. The way he chomped between her legs like a shark. The way he took her, just like that. No patience. No finesse. I'm just about drain the horrible water from the tub when I realize I'm unguarded.

I turn to find myself at the level of Olivia's fist, the blow like a London pub brawl. I feel the jerk of her hips, the straightness of her wrist, the follow-through that sends me right into the Jacuzzi, Lakers hat flying off.

The whiplash, the burn is intensified by the hot water. I'll be lucky if she doesn't close the cover on me. I thrash to sitting up, holding my jaw, having to cough and hating my split lip at the moment.

"That's for leching last night!" she snarls. "And this,"- the open-hand slap I'd been expecting- "is for-whatever you think you're doing now! What, looking for forensic evidence that Gregory isn't the father?"

I run my hand down the throbbing, soaked skin. "First of all, I wasn't lecchhhing," I spit in heavy English. "I was…appraising."

"You were watching live pornography, not Antiques Roadshow!"

I climb out of the tub, staring her down. She flinches. "You were watching me. You looked me in the eye and kept on going. I want to know why."

"Me first. Did you like what you saw? Were you...e-envious, or something?"

"I'm not doing this, Olivia." I wring out my tank top.

"Then if not for me, admit something to yourself, for once."

The pause consists of water dripping from me onto the travertine tile of the lanai. Eyes fusing. "I couldn't help but wonder if you were comparing us."

She scoffs. "What do you think you know after three encounters that he doesn't after twenty years?"

"Excuse me if I just didn't see the…'true love' you were toasting with your Prosecco in the grotto."

"My, you certainly think you're something special!"

"No. I just think he's reckless. I know it's exciting at first, but doesn't it get old…not getting a word in edgewise when he's mauling you? Not being able to just…savor it…instead of looking like he dropped a blowdryer in the water?"

She looks around as I move closer. "Cole, please…"

"I'm not saying I'm better than him. Just more...attentif," I move closer, inches from her face. "But, you know that. Do you want to know what I would've done differently last night?"

"What," she trembles. "What would you have done. So. Differently."

"See, I think there's a time to dominate a woman and there's a time to be under her. Not coming up until she's satisfied."

Her lips are slightly parted, but her breathing is long and slow. "You know full well that the sensitive, doting love slave is just a bollocks character you play when you're after something."

"The question is, what am I after now...?" I grin, and start to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"To get some ice for my face, Tyson. Why?" I chuckle, walking backwards. "You want to hear the rest of the hot tub revision? It's one of those Choose Your Adventure stories. You'll have to pick the right page."

I go in the house through the sliding glass door and Caitlin is approaching, robed and ready. "Hey! Where are you going, you doof- oh my God, what happened to your lip?"

"Slipped and cracked my face on the edge of the tub like an idiot," I sigh.

"Um, I thought the term 'cat burglar' implied some sort of mastery of at least walking. You're so off your game."

"Not entirely."

She examines me. "Mostly just dried blood, it's not as bad as it looks. If I get some ice and patch you up, we can still go hot-tubbin'."

"Nah. I'm starting to think it's cursed. Let's go upstairs."

We go to the bed, but the ice pack makes my body so warm in comparison, I fall asleep thinking about a Choose Your Adventure page that says you fell into the lava.

….TBC…