Jessie

by Karen Botha

We must be there for half an hour. At some point, our arms have wrapped around the other, and our bodies have slotted perfectly in against the other.

  “Good morning.” He kisses me and I could die. It’s only at this point that I even consider morning breath.

  Too late now. “Good morning,” I mumble into his mouth.

  “You’re chilly.” He rubs the puckered skin on my shins, enveloping me further into his embrace.

  “I’m fine. This was such a perfect start to the day.”

  “No, what was perfect was waking up next to you. I won’t ask how you slept.”

  I laugh. “No, but the lack of sleep was worth it.” I wink as his mouth spreads wide into an ‘O’.

  Zac

  If I slept a half hour during the night, that was a lot. But it was worth it.

  When the sun started to rise this morning, I couldn’t take my eyes off the tangerine glow in the distance. I tried not to wake Jessie, but I guess I did a poor job of that, because I’d not been outside for more than five minutes when she joined me.

  And that’s when I really knew that our connection wasn’t just about sexual chemistry, although now speaking from experience, I can say that side of things is pretty amazing.

  She came outside anyway, and buried her toes in the dewy grass and sat with me on the cold, stone, slab of history. She instinctively understood that the beauty of this moment would be broken by idle chatter. The view was enough on its own, and she felt it too.

  However, now its midday and everyone else has risen. Kyle is busy in the kitchen preparing a stew type meal which he’s planning to cook outside, on an open fire, in a huge cast iron cauldron.

  “Are you certain this is how you want to begin your marriage?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” He doesn’t stop what he is doing, but glances up to look at me.

  “Well, this looks like witchcraft. I hope we’re not all going to end up in that pot?”

  He laughs, but it’s Elliott who says, “Sure you are. Why do you think we invited you all to stay in such a remote place?”

  “Fair enough.” Jessie jabs him before scraping a chair across the floor so she can join him at the dining table.

  I’m hovering, trying to find the correct words, which I should, rather than want to say. “Listen, if me being around today is going to be awkward, after last night. Well, let me know and I’ll take off somewhere.”

  There’s a collective “no” from Elliott and Kyle, but Jessie’s lighter tone weighs in too.

  “This is your wedding week. I don’t want to make things difficult, so I won’t be offended.” I feel obliged to double check.

  It’s Jessie who speaks up, but I don’t miss the look which passes between Elliott and Kyle. “Listen, I’ll speak to the boys. They’re just being overprotective. I’ll sort it, make sure they understand that their concern was...” she pauses.

  “Out of order?” Elliott suggests.

  “Well, yes. But I was going to say overbearing.”

  “If you’re sure?” I triple check. I don’t know why I’m being so polite about this. The last thing I want is to be excluded from today’s after the party, party.

  Kyle speaks up. “If you don’t have any success Jessie, I’ll wade in. There’s no excuse for their behavior last night and I’ll make sure they know we are not going to tolerate a round two.”

  Right on cue, Ryan ambles through the door, hair stuck up and his face creased with sleep. He must have heard our conversation because he’s looking decidedly sheepish. “I’m sorry about last night, man.” He walks up and shakes my hand.

  I want to take it and rip his arm from his shoulder, but instead, I smile with all the graciousness I can muster, and accept his apology. “No problem. It was just one of those things.”

  My ass.

  Jessie

  The rest of the morning is spent prepping the food we’ll gather around and wash down with some beers at 2:00 in the afternoon. Kyle has instructed everyone to be ready on time, so by 1:55, everyone is emerging from their respective areas of the house.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” I nod toward the suspended fire pit as I shimmy around the flames to claim the spot next to Zac.

  “No, me neither. I guess it’s sensible if the ground is wet, or frozen.” The fire dangles from chains attached to a metal tripod contraption.

  I plop down next to Zac and without thinking, I place my hand on his knee. It feels so natural, and yet, we both notice. There’s that instant tension where we realize that the small gesture of affection belies my deeper feelings. He places his hand over the top of mine and squeezes my fingers tight. I lean into him and we sit, listening to the chitter-chatter of the rest of the group.

  “Let’s take bets on who was the most sick on the way back from the island last night,” Greg says. But his voice is in the distance somewhere. I hear his words, but they don’t register, nor do the jeers as odds are announced against each likely candidate.

  I’m feigning engagement with the event, nodding and smiling, but I’m not hearing a word anyone is saying. My ears are listening to the buzz inside my head, the rush of blood that Zac’s hand on mine ignites. The guys blur against the backdrop of the views, as I tune them out and fade in a moment, private to the two of us.

  “Fancy getting out of here?” His whisper is music to my ears.

  Even so, I nudge him. “We can’t,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

  “Sure we can. Only for a few minutes.” When I dare to look at him, he’s nodding and his eyes are gleaming, pleading with me.

  “Just for a few minutes, then.” I’m ashamed to say, that’s how easy it was for him to persuade me.

  He stands first, un-rumples his shorts and shakes his legs out, playing for time, while I decide whether to follow his lead. Sod it!

  “Anyone want a drink?” I shout when I reach the top of the steps. I’m hoping everyone will be so engrossed in their conversations that they don’t hear me. I’m wrong. Of course they hear. They may have stopped threatening to fight at every opportunity, but I’m in no doubt that I’m being watched like a hawk.

  I take the order for what seems like one hundred bottles of beer and follow Zac inside.

  “Why did you do that?” he says as soon as the external door slams closed. He’s grinning though, holding his hands up in front as he shrugs.

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t know,” I complain, “I guess I wanted to make us scooting off together look above board.

  “But it wasn’t.” The tinkle of a joke in his tone has disappeared and been replaced by a husky gruffness which tells me exactly what he has on his mind. He body slams me against the wall, his lips meeting mine at the same time as his hard groin presses against me. I feel him firm. “But now it has to be.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I am. So very sorry.

  “Stop worrying about what they think. You are your own person. You can make your own decisions.”

  Oh, he is right about that. And now, the decision I’m making is to take him upstairs to christen my bedroom.

  Zac

  She pushes me away. “Come on, quick.” Her hand takes mine as she pulls me off in the direction of the staircase. I know where this leads.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I ask.

  “You’re coming with me.” She tugs harder on my arm.

  “No. We can’t now. Your protection ring will wonder where we are, now you’ve gone all legit.” But I’m speaking the words as I skip up the steps after her. The chance of being caught by her mob only succeeds in exciting me and the pulsing which has been filling the void between us all day has moved into my groin.

  She giggles and places her index finger to her lips as she turns to me. “Shh.” She clicks the door closed behind her, permitting me to push her back against it, pressing my weight into her. Far from offering any relief, our intimacy only increases the magnetism of our connection.

  My stomach back flips as she tilts her chin up to allow me to cru
sh my lips against hers. Our mouths part from the force, allowing our tongues to intertwine as our teeth smash into each other.

  The bulge in my pants is screaming to be released, the pressure which has built up, straining against my zipper. I thrust against her thigh, she pushes back, maintaining a crushing compression, sucking in gasps of air.

  Her hand finds its way to my groin and as she massages me over the fabric of my shorts, I feel like I’m about to explode right there and then in my pants. The spasm is creeping from back to front, until I have no choice, I have to pull away from her and stand there with my eyes scrunched tight taking a moment.

  I can hear her laughing, but struggle not to focus on her. It’s not a laugh laden with mirth, but of understanding. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty hot under the collar too.” She points her finger downwards in the direction of, ugh. Don’t think about it. But it leaves me in no doubt as to exactly what ‘collar’ is code for.

  As much as I try, the image from last night of exactly how she looks under the collar is emblazoned behind my closed eyes. It does nothing at all to help subdue the throbbing in my pants.

  I back up, taking two steps back from her and kneel as I slowly unbutton the front of her shorts, slide down the zipper, tooth by tooth all the while maintaining contact with her beautiful, chestnut eyes. As the zipper splays, the cotton of her panties is exposed and I train my eyes on the mound below. On the texture of bristles.

  Slipping my thumbs down either side of her shorts, I slide them down her hips until I’m able to hook under the stretch of fabric which separates her nakedness from me. Slowly, I pull either side, uncovering her delicious place. When her clothing falls around her feet, I use those same thumbs to pry her apart, to make a space for my face and tongue to slide. I taste her syrupy juices, the proof of her wanting for me. She bucks against me as I pull wider, forcing back her protective hood and taking her pleasure as my own.

  Her body jars against the door as she muffles her cries into her hand, then bites down on her finger. I work my tongue and my fingers quickly, building pressure in rapid circles which from the way she’s throwing back her head, are doing the trick.

  Someone comes in from outside, but she doesn’t notice. The bulge in my pants kicks in anticipation of being caught, and my rotations speed up, until I suck her between my teeth.

  She lets out a guttural groan as she jerks her hips forward and slams the crown of her head against the door.

  Standing quickly, I spin her around, free myself, and the peace that comes from being inside her rushes through my veins. It lasts about a second before I grab her long hair and bunch it at the nape of her neck. She turns her face toward me, cranes until our lips meet and I start to pound, the ache in my groin fighting for relief.

  Our bodies take on a life of their own, move as one in expectation of mutual satisfaction.

  “Jessie, are you up there?” The words filter through from the other side of the door.

  Her lips curve up. “Sure, give me a sec.” Her voice is anything but level as I continue my rhythmic beat, having not expected her to answer.

  The pressure for our solicitous tryst to end is such a turn on. Whoever it is waiting in the large office off which our bedrooms are located, isn't leaving. The idea tips me over the edge and the spring which had been coiling tighter all day, finally releases, splintering my vision for a split second until we both smother our laughter with kisses.

  Jessie

  As it turns out Elliott and Kyle don’t have any other plans for us, so we’re on our own the next day. Never one to waste an opportunity, we take ourselves back to the privacy of the island. I can barely contain my excitement. I'm finally going to be able to enjoy some alone time learning all about the man about whom I know very little, but who has captured my heart, nonetheless.

  We’ve found the most splendid sandy spot next to the water’s edge, and the sun is beating down. The midday sunlight is like a camera; it can tell no lies.

  Except this view has no flaws. It’s picture perfect; jade mountains topped with snow at their peaks reflect in the cool mirror of the lake. And the heat. It’s wonderful. The ideal temperature to sit in and relax, while it gently colors my skin.

  “So, tell me something about yourself that nobody else knows,” I ask once we’re settled on the picnic rug we’ve borrowed from the house.

  His eyes veer up to the left and I start to worry that he has nothing at all to tell me, such is the delay in his answer. He opens his mouth a few times, but words don’t come out. “OK... so something about me no one knows...”

  It’s not that complicated a question, is it? Instead of uttering my frustration though, I keep my prompt simple with a quick, “Yup.” I make a play of resting my chin in my hands, awaiting his response.

  “It’s tough. There’s not much people don’t know about me.”

  “OK, well maybe I worded it wrong. Tell me something I don’t know about you. Like, what do you really do for a living?” I kiss the fingers which are wrapped around mine.

  He smiles at my tenderness, then continues. “You know that, I already told you. I’m in investments, but I’m not the wanker-banker type, I hope you’re not thinking I’m a complete jerk now.”

  “You’re kidding? So, you really import blood diamonds?”

  His smile is soft, I take heart from that as I remove my hand from his. “I have a handful of seriously wealthy clients who I service personally. The makeup of their portfolios can range, but I trade a lot in diamonds, yes. I was joking about the blood diamonds although there is serious wealth in them.” He winks.

  What the hell does that mean? That he’s genuinely happy to profit from workers being beaten and forced into dangerous mines? Or that as long as he gets his cut, he doesn’t give two hoots about the impact of illegal mining on the environment? Wanker-banker is ringing more true than I’m comfortable with.

  While all this is going on in my head, he’s just carried on speaking, merrily explaining how his job works. “Yeah, a lot of people buy jewels but they don’t make a sound investment. I ensure that my clients not only own a beautiful stone that will look amazing if they choose to wear it, but that it will earn them serious money in the future.”

  I’ve missed something here and I mentally kick myself. Was he explaining that he isn’t into selling for as much profit regardless of the cost, or fleshing out his explanation of his poor sense of humor? I’m struggling to work this out while my brain whirrs in the background.

  “Hang on, if they choose to wear it? I don’t understand.” I tune back into what he is actually saying.

  “Yeah, a lot of the stones I buy are too valuable to be worn, so they’re kept in a safe, like you’d keep your money in a bank.”

  “Seems like a waste.”

  “Perhaps, if you like diamonds?”

  I swear there was a question mark on the end of that phrase. So, how do I answer? Of course I love diamonds, but I don’t want to come off as begging for an engagement ring, particularly one sourced from ill-gotten gains. Things may have moved pretty quickly between us, but that’s a little fast in anyone’s book.

  “Show me a girl who doesn’t love diamonds and I’ll show you a liar.” I think that’s fair, and I’ve not come off as being the desperate type. Nor have I shown how I’m on the brink of being turned off by his career path.

  “So, go on. Your turn.” He leans back on his forearms and crosses his legs out as he sips the champagne he poured into two plastic cups.

  Somehow, now it’s my turn, I don’t feel interesting enough for him. There’s nothing special about me. Sure, I travel the globe and meet some famous names along the way, but they’re not that entertaining. A lot of what I do is superficial. It’s about saying the right things to the right people, and so I can be in some of the most glamorous locations in the world, but I’m not enjoying it because I’m busy being the person I’m paid to be, rather than who I am.

  I can’t let my hair down and laugh at
the top of my lungs when someone wears a ridiculous outfit that will get them featured in the media. No, I have to nod like the professional I am, and praise their business acumen.

  Perhaps I’ve lost sight of who I am under the veneer of my career.

  “I’ve got a question for you, if you’re struggling.” He senses my distress.

  “OK?”

  “So, was it PR that drove you to work for a motor company or the other way around?”

  “Oh, the other way around for sure. I love racing. Always have. When I was young, one of my most jealous memories is of my dad going off to the race track once a year and me being left at home. I wasn’t allowed to go because I was a girl and it was men only. Made me hopping mad.”

  He grins. “So, are you a tomboy then?”

  Before I know it, he’s downed what was left of his champagne and has rolled on top of me. My arms are pinned above my head and any doubt about whether he’s the right man for me vaporizes.

  Zac

  There’s no one around so we make out on that picnic blanket. It’s amazing what it’s possible to appreciate when you don’t have it; privacy is big on my list at the moment. We languish in the desire for each other’s body and after we’re finished, we lie, half naked, without a care.

  I expect, in theory a cruiser could zip by, but it’s not part of our reality. We’re alone in the world for the first time, and the freedom is liberating.

  We lie, basking in the sun, drinking our second bottle of champagne and then our third, nibbling on strawberries and each other. The heat warms our drinks, and our hearts. Until it’s time to cool it.

  “Let’s swim.” It’s a suggestion, but I’m already naked and dipping my toe in the fresh water as it laps onto the fine beads of sand.

  “Isn’t it cold?” She waves her hand in front of her face to create a breeze.