Trivial Pursuits Ch. 07

She raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're a closet dom?"

He frowned. "What? No."

"Well, just saying, if you're looking for advice, it'll cost you." She gave another half grin and lifted her empty bottle. "Another round and we'll call it even." Denny chuckled and then motioned for the bartender. When their beers were delivered and they'd both taken another satisfying drink he continued.

"I'm fucked," he sighed lamentably. "I'm completely hooked on this girl from work."

"Ah," she said with a Cheshire grin. "Go on, tell me all about her. Don't leave anything out."

Denny only thought a moment before the existence of Alessa poured from his mouth in unhurried, often poetic and rhythmic tones. "She's the new associate at the firm. She's intelligent as fuck; driven. She excels like a fucking Bugatti. She's fluent in Korean, Cantonese and French. She's been my right hand in the new overseas expansion for one of my clients. Partners are itching to groom her. Went to Berkeley when she could have gone to Harvard. She's a control freak. Runs every evening at six straight up, though I think she sneaks off during the day if I've irritated her. She's frugal and healthy. She's reserved, but when she smiles...like diamonds in the sun."

"She sounds nauseatingly wonderful," Max commented drily. "So the problem is..."

"I can't get her to give me a chance."

"You're not good enough for her?"

"No, that's not it."

"Denny, if someone isn't attracted to you with all your good looks, intelligence, success, charisma, then it's not going to happen, no matter how much you may be into her. I mean, you are probably attractive to seventy-five percent of the population, and if she's in that narrow margin that just doesn't appreciate you, then she never will be. You should let her go."

He gave a self-deprecating smirk. "Only seventy-five percent, huh?" Max laughed at that and reached over to rub his shoulder. "Being attracted to me is not the issue. She does want me, just as much as I want her."

"Then what's the problem?"

Denny was silent, staring at the city scape of glass liquor bottles lining the bartender's shelves. He had a few false starts, trying to figure out how to explain. "It's long; it's complicated."

"Well, I've got time as long as I've got beer," Max encouraged with a sly smile.

Denny sighed and began. "I first met Alessa-"

"Alessa? That's her name?"

"Yeah."

"It's pretty."

"Thanks."

"I wasn't complimenting you, you Neanderthal. But go on."

"I first met her back in college. She was in one of my summer classes."

"She reject you then, too?"

"No. I didn't even approach her. She was just seventeen, a kid. She'd gotten a scholarship to attend a few college courses over the summer. When I found out she was still in high school I passed. But then a few years later I saw her again. You know how Tom and Jake and some of the guys and I like to play trivia at The Colony?"

"Yeah, you never invited me to go," she pouted angrily.

"Well, you can't pick up a girl when you're already with the hottest one there, now can you?" he defended, knowing she'd appreciate his indirect compliment. When she smiled, he continued. "Anyway, she was there with this obnoxious group of girls and they beat us. Correction. They didn't beat us. She beat us. She was their ringer."

Max gave a sound that indicated she understood the hit to his masculine pride that would've been.

"When I recognized her from class, I don't know, something just snapped. Afterwards, I cornered her out in the alley. We had some words. I thought she had been cheating 'cause she kept looking at her phone. But when I stole it from her, I realized she hadn't cheated. She'd been looking at this website; a porn website. She wrote erotica, Max, and I think she was checking the status of her latest story."

Max expression satisfyingly changed to one of awed shock.

"She grabbed her phone from me and fled. I was too stunned to do anything, and that was the last time I saw her. Seven years ago. That is, until she walked into my office last month. She was one of the applicants for the new associate position."

"But now she works in your office, so that means she was hired...by you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, no wonder she doesn't want to date you. You were an asshole, probably scared her silly."

"No, she didn't even remember it at the time. But during her interview, with the way I treated her-"

"How did you treat her?" Max cut in again with a furrowed brow.

Denny's head slunk on his shoulders. "Well, you could say I was a bit...aggressive."

"How would she describe it?" she questioned knowingly.

"She called me a jerk."

Max lifted her eyebrows. "I've never known you to be a jerk. Or mean or unfair. Why would you treat her that way?"

"I don't know," he admitted uncomfortably. "Her confidant, know-it-all attitude just made me want to...I don't know, pinch her or something."

Max had no immediate reply, but narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully. "Go on," she encouraged.

"Well, in her interview I realized I did want her; that for as riling as she was, I...liked her. I was attracted to her. And I thought hiring her would be my only opportunity to get close to her. Of course, Macrae saw right through me."

Max snorted. "I bet Macrae just wanted her for herself."

"You are too damn good," Denny admitted with some amount of cynical awe that Max saw straight to the heart of any person's motives. But he supposed that's what a double major in pre-law and psychology would get you. "But, yeah, you're right. Not long after Alessa started, Jude came to my office and wanted to know my intentions."

Max smirked with a knowing lift of her eyebrows and a cocky shake of her head as she tilted her beer back, before steering their conversation back. "So why's Alessa giving you such a hard time? I mean, if she didn't remember you were the jerk from the alley, and if you've done all you can to be the charmer I know you are, and if she's interested as you claim she is," Max summarized shaking her head, failing to understand the problem, "why are you fucked?"

Denny sighed dejectedly. "I'm fucked, Max, because she's fucked."

"What does that even mean?"

"Because, she's so screwed up; she's terrified of giving me a chance because she doesn't date anyone, at any time. No hand holding, no chocolates, no late nights on the couch, no kisses, and definitely no sex."

Max frowned as she tried to figure out Alessa's possible motives. "What's her story? I mean, has she ever been involved with anyone?"

"Hardly," Denny scoffed. "She hasn't dated since high school. She gave it up, twice, to some jerk of a boyfriend who didn't do anything good for her," he accused miserably.

Max snorted. "Ha! Listen to you talk! As if you were Don Juan at fifteen."

Denny bit the inside of his cheek to keep the frustration down, though he knew she was right. "At any rate," he bit out, "the experience ruined sex for her. And because of that, she hasn't dated anyone since, which you can read as she also hasn't slept with anyone else."

"How old is she?"

"About twenty-seven, I think."

Max frowned. "That's a rather long time to not give it a second chance," she mused. "Especially if she's clearly interested in sex. I mean, why else would she write erotica? Would you describe her as an all-or-nothing sort of girl?"

Denny nodded in confirmation.

"I suppose that could explain it. One try at it was enough to convince her. But still...an awfully long time to not try again if she's still interested."

"There's more. I think to some extent, she's severely limited all her interactions with others, not just in dating, but in everything. She hides behind this veneer of confidence and enthusiasm for her work, but really, she's empty. So she uses work to fill it up. To keep herself going and find some sort of meaning, some sort of satisfaction. And like I said, to use it as a shield, an excuse for not getting involved. I mean, after her parents divorced-"

"Aw, now we're getting somewhere. How old was she?"

"Alessa was probably in the eighth or ninth grade." Max responded by slowly nodding, but said nothing. "Well, she became driven in school, in her running-she ran track in school and college-to win her father's approval."

"So he left and got remarried, am I right?"

"Yeah. I think they had a kid almost immediately. A sister. Alessa dotes on her."

"So she's probably insecure. You said she's pretty?" Max guessed.

"Here, let me show you," he said taking out his phone and pulling up the firm's photo directory of the lawyers. "But she's not insecure. Not only is she annoyingly confident, she doesn't really care about her appearance. Sure, she looks nice, but she isn't vain. You know, there are those women who are all about fashion and their makeup and hair. Alessa's completely oblivious to how gorgeous she is," Denny professed.

He handed Max the phone when he found Alessa's photo.

Max took one look at the stellar beauty and made a snort of unbelief. "Men are such idiots," she muttered. "That hair takes time," she informed him, passing the phone back. Denny took it and looked at the photo again.

"What does that mean?"

"That hair is flawless. You don't get killer volume and sleek waves like that by just waking up and running your fingers through your hair, my dear boy. Either she went and had it professionally done that morning, which means she does know how to use her looks to her advantage, or this came from years of practice, which indicates she's spent hours of her life to perfect her look. Either way, trust me, she cares," Max assured.

Denny overlaid Max's words with what he saw, the understanding once again reshaping Alessa in his mind.

"But why insecure?" he asked. "If she is concerned with her looks, wouldn't she know that she's gorgeous?"

Max shook her head. "I'm sure she's aware, but in a way, it's probably a lot like anorexia. People who are anorexic are already thin, right? But they don't see themselves that way, or don't see themselves as thin enough."

"I thought anorexia was about control," Denny said.

Max shrugged. "Yeah, it is, and this is probably what it is for her. Her appearance is the easiest thing she can control, but I bet it's a point of some deep-seated insecurity. Think about it. Her father left during a critical time in her development. At fourteen, her body was beginning to really develop. No matter how amicable it may have been between the parents, I bet she felt like she was being abandoned by her father, or even worse, she was the reason he left. She was powerless to stop it, and felt like her father's approval was something she had to earn, instead of the well-adjusted belief that a parent's love is unconditional."

"Looking for love," Denny mumbled, staring into his empty beer. Max asked him to elaborate. He shook his head. "When she told me about her first time, she said she had just wanted the guy to love her."

"Exactly," Max agreed sadly. "But in the end, what happened? She had a terrible experience and was left in even more pain than before it ever happened. And so what did she do?"

"She became an overachieving, workaholic, control freak," Denny answered.

"All the while lying to herself that she didn't want sex or need a relationship. But all of her achievements can't erase her maladapted feelings of insecurity, and that innate need for connection we all share. They just drive her to keep going, to be better and better each time. But each success just becomes like a bite of an empty calorie. She feels satisfied for a time, but really, it just leaves her hungry for more."

"So what the fuck do I do?" he finally asked. "How do I get through to her?"

"Denny, I'm afraid to tell you this, but you're not going to win her over by simply asking her out. She's not going to just suddenly realize 'hey, I like you. Let me drop off all my baggage and we can live happily-ever-after.' It's going to take work."

"Tell me about it," Denny muttered finishing the last of his beer and waggling his bottle to the barkeep.

"What's that supposed to mean? Has something happened?"

"Last night."

"Oh? When you called me?" Max surmised.

"Yeah. I'd just dropped her off. We'd been in the city working and I talked her into letting me take her to dinner."

"So then what happened?"

"She told me about her previous experience, how she hadn't had sex since high school. And then I kissed her. Fuck," he groaned, rubbing his face, "I think I just messed it up worse."

"You kissed her? What was that like?"

"Wanna a play by play?" he asked cynically. But Max only nodded.

Denny reluctantly detailed his kiss with Alessa, telling Max about the whimpers she made when he did something she liked. When Max asked if it made him hard, his face was a mixture a frown and smile, but he admitted the truth despite any embarrassment. He explained how they ended up with him pressing her against the wall grinding into her, but how she had frozen when those people walked by whistling at them.

"I was so certain that if I could just kiss her," his voice trailed. "In the end, she was just as closed off as before. Maybe more so."

"Because you destroyed her reality, no doubt," his confidant supplied. "You made her want sex, even though she'd dedicated her adult life to the belief she's immune from its allure." Max was silent for many minutes before she declared she was done and wanted him to walk her home. Denny paid for the drinks and together they walked out into the cool, fall night. Max looped her arm through his and eventually spoke despite their comfortable silence.

"If you are serious about a relationship with this woman, like I said, it's going to take work. And she's going to need to actively participate in healing herself. Despite how much she may want you, those burdens are strapped to her back like barnacles to a ship, and they're not coming off because of one good kiss. Hell, because of a thousand. But short of going to therapy, I think you could help her."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" he questioned incredulously, his pain that she continued to shut him out evident to Max.

"There are elements of what I do, of what I already talked to you about that I think could be very helpful," Max began. She could tell by the disgruntled, disbelieving expression he wore that he didn't agree.

"I'm not suggesting you turn into a dom and make her your sub. Developing those sorts of relationships takes years of training and a dedicated lifestyle that isn't for everyone. But I do think the approach to relationships and sexuality, like the communication, speaking frankly about her issues and devising little therapeutic scenarios, can help you. Help her. It will take time, gentleness, and a whole hell of a lot of skill, but I think you could pull it off. If you care enough about her to want to put in the time and effort, if you always believe she's worth it, I think you could do it."

They walked several blocks up a steep hill before Denny spoke again. "But how do I even begin? How do I get her to give me a chance?"

Max was silent as she thought about a million different scenarios until at last all she could offer was, "She can't be forced to do this, to enter into a relationship. But she may need to be...maneuvered into discussing it, for you to present your plan to her. But no matter what, the most important thing for you to remember, is that she has to know you will be dependable. You can't get tired of her in a few months or you'll just wind up doing even more damage to her. Denny, if you want this to work, you have to convince her you're as committed as the light is to the sun."