by SJ Cavaletti
“Liz?”
Simone snapped me out of my daydream.
“You going to tell me the story or what?”
6
Elias
Seven Years Ago
Miami
* * *
In the dim light of the restaurant area of the sophisticated pool hall, I was having the best date of my life. The place impressed immediately upon entering. Directly inside the door was the restaurant. A long bar of dark polished wood in an art deco style along the right side of the room, tables for eating, adjacent. And in the back of the cavernous room, six pool tables hardly visible but for the classy lamps hanging over them casting alluring attention onto green felt, making it look like a great place to hang out with a mojito.
And a cigar. I didn’t smoke anything, but I wanted to now. Upon entering, I knew it would be a decent place. We were one of two white couples, so that’s always a good sign for food.
Liz walked through the open door and echoed my sentiments. “Good vibe.”
“Agreed.”
Not that I didn’t already feel the chemistry between us. It was as impossible to ignore as splitting atoms, but it sealed the deal when the curvy hostess took us to our table and I only had eyes for Liz’s ass. Well, that’s not entirely true. Liz’s cleavage peeking out from her lacy, sweet top had a hand in keeping my attention. You know you like a girl when you can’t wait for Salma Hayek to leave.
Which she finally did after handing us a couple of menus.
“If it doesn’t work out with us, I dibs this place,” I said.
Liz’s smile reached inside my heart and stretched it. It was so nice to be with a woman who could flirt. Joke a bit. Not take it all so seriously.
Saying that, if I read her right, that sassy smirk of hers told me the place would not be mine.
My coffee dates had been like drawn out torture. Walking on eggshells. Stay away from taboo subjects like marriage, kids, and exes. Liz and I talked about all that before our first date and it all just flowed. It was that we had the same style of getting to know you. Humor sprinkled with truth and just let the other person be.
Not everything is about you.
Liz didn’t even look at the menu. “I don’t have to look at this.”
“No?”
“I told you. Ropa vieja.”
She had. And before coming I’d checked online to make sure that was on the menu. The last thing I wanted to do was have a woman tell me I had her so long as I served her shredded beef and then force feed her chimichangas.
Liz’s decisiveness grabbed me by the balls. I loved a woman who knew her mind. Not that I let her know it. “Well, I need more in my life. I’m not one to settle, so let’s get a bunch of other things too and share?”
“Sure,” she said, giving me bedroom eyes, “But I’m telling you we’ll be fighting over the ropa vieja.”
“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” I said. Even though I would let her have it if she loved it so much. I knew what it meant to be a gentleman and how much women loved their food.
I remembered my sister going on a trip to Italy complaining about how her boyfriend at the time always wanted to share food but scarfed down the majority. Never be fooled by petite figures. Girls want to eat.
Salma Two came over (though I wasn’t surprised because Miami was full of hot women), and took our order, which was longer than she probably expected for two people. The server left, and Liz rubbed her hands together. Quickly, almost comically in anticipation.
“I’m so excited about the food,” she said.
“I thought you were from Florida? Isn’t this your staple diet? Cuban? Mexican…”
“I’m from Venice.”
I shook my head, questioning.
She replied, “Meaning my town was like ninety-eight percent white. Might as well order spicy food in London. There were places that put mayo in the guacamole.”
“No.”
“Yes. I kid you not. But you know, small price to pay for great hot dogs,” she added sarcastically. “But maybe your home state is a bit like that in places?”
“Oh yeah. There’s mayo in all sorts of weird shit in North Carolina. Like there’s this cheese and mayo dip thing.”
She crinkled her nose and laughed that music box laugh. Tinkling beautifully like a fairy ballerina in my ears.
How could a woman be so sweet and so sexy all at the same time? Liz’s rosy cheeks like Cinderella’s, but her tits were like Barbarella’s. Jesus. I’d become used to big boobs. The amount of enhanced breasts and push-up bras in this town could stack to the top of Everest but Liz? My God. The woman was well-endowed. And to top it off, her bra and tank top were both of thin enough fabric that twice now her nipples said hello right through it all.
A part of me tried to control myself, and part of me knew Liz knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t one of these women that dressed to show off, then got pissed when you looked. Not that I did. Not more than twice anyway. But both times I wanted to suck right through that shirt till I got to the center of her lollipop.
Our drinks came and went, and I ordered one more for Liz. I was driving and now had precious cargo. I’d be reckless with myself, but not with her. The food arrived.
She rubbed her hands together again and looked at all the plates. “My God. I’d say where do I begin but…” she grabbed a dish from in front of me and put it in front of her. “Ropa vieja.”
“You warned me.”
“I warned you.”
She sliced through the soft delicacy with her knife and lifted it to her lips, slowly. A bit of juice didn’t make it inside, and she licked it off gently with her tongue as to not disturb her coral lipstick. “Mmmmm.”
She closed her eyes softly every once in a while, between bites, and shook her head from side to side, concentrating on the flavors and appreciating the culinary delights. Her lips curved around her fork as to not mess up her lipstick. She’d shake her shoulders and her breasts would jiggle in appreciation when she did it.
Liz seemed to feel things with her entire body. Live with her whole self. She was one of the most alive people I had ever met. And so comfortable in her skin.
Watching Liz laugh over ropa vieja was the best time I’d had in years. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a good time before this. In some weird blip in my brain, it was like nothing ever happened before Liz. Or if stuff did, it wasn’t worth remembering because this? This felt like the start of my life.
I took an empanada, because even though the ropa vieja was the best dish on our table, I wanted her to have it.
She continued our conversation, which she had paused for a good thirty seconds to honor her tastebuds.
Liz had told me about her dreams. And relevant, worthy dreams they were. She had an inventor’s soul. And in medicine, one single invention could change the trajectory of humankind. To say I was intrigued was an understatement.
“So, yeah,” she said, picking up after swallowing her food, “I keep a list of problems I think might need fixing. Like when I read news articles and stuff,” she took a drink of her mojito, “I guess I have delusions of grandeur. There’s so much invention to be had in the medical space. I just want to come up with better tools to fix people. And maybe I’m a total jerk, and not as benevolent as you, but I’d like to leave a mark.”
Listening to Liz talk about her career and passion for biomechanics gave me a stiffy. I wasn’t a hot nurse kind of guy. I was a crazy scientist kind of guy. With a lab coat on and nothing underneath. I’d bend her over a Bunsen burner.
“So what problems are on your list now? Like, most recently?”
I chewed my empanada, and Liz looked up at the sky as if it was going to whisper something.
“So,” she said, both hands, fingers flared excitedly, “Well I’m sure you read the news about oximeters and how they can’t accurately gauge oxygen levels through darker skin tones. But along those lines, most skin diseases are only taught h
ow to diagnose, or are very hard to diagnose on dark skin.”
“True.”
“But the mouth is a place where we’re all created equal. So I think the key to testing so many issues lies there. Testing strips, breathalyzers… a lot of my ideas are inspired by Chinese medicine. Chinese doctors look at your tongue for two seconds and can practically tell you your genetic code.”
I smiled inwardly, though she must have seen it.
“What? Do you think it’s not a good idea? You’re not one of those ‘West is the best’ doctors, are you?”
“No. Not at all. I was smiling, not smirking. That’s a great place to start. On the doctor side we think more about genetic predisposition and culture… habits that walk hand in hand with a large part of a certain population. But, yeah, I’m actually really happy to hear you’re thinking on the diagnostic side. It all goes together. Now if only we could work on the structure. Because the tools are only good if we can use them on everybody.”
“You mean the insurance system?”
“Yeah. What use is anything if everyone doesn’t have access? But it’s chicken and egg of course. So people like you need to keep going. I’m impressed. You must not watch a lot of TV?”
“Inventing is my relaxation.”
She looked down bashfully and wiggled her fork up and down, almost nervously.
“Thanks. It’s kind of intimidating talking to doctors about these things.” She looked up and waved her head back and forth, finding some sass. “They always seem to know best.”
I leaned onto the table, bent arms, chin on my hands. “Do they?”
She leaned in, mimicking me. Her chin on hands and face close to mine. “Do YOU?”
“This feels like a trick question. But I can’t tell if it’s win-win or lose-lose.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… I’m sitting with a confident, highly intelligent, ambitious and beautiful woman. If I say I know best, this could either be a situation where you feel you met your match. Or one where it’s a turnoff because you think I’m a controlling bastard know-it-all.”
“You think I’m setting you up with this question?”
I squinted an eye, coy. “Maybe more like a game of Russian roulette?”
“Alright El. Go on and pull the trigger. What’s it going to be? Do you know everything?”
I leaned in closer, so close I could almost taste that ropa vieja myself.
“No,” I said, now perched only five inches from her face. I took her hand in mine. “But I want to. I want to know absolutely everything.”
Her soft hand, so warm. The right size and shape for my own. A perfect fit.
“You’re smooth,” she said, smiling.
“Smooth at this table. Less so at the others.”
She looked behind me to the pool tables.
“Well, it would be nice to knock you off your pedestal, but I’m not sure I’m the woman to do it.”
“I’m not looking to be toppled, Liz. Or to take you down. My pedestal? I was hoping you’d climb up and share it.”
Though I wanted to kiss her so badly, her lips looked more than ready for me, I stood up and gestured with my hand for her to join me.
“So, let’s experiment with something neither of us are good at. Level playing field.”
Before she stood, I glimpsed her ample, dewy cleavage. How on earth had this woman, as good inside as she was out, have simply stumbled into my arms? Just like that? Brushing alongside the reception area at Miami General.
If it weren’t for that fateful moment, I might never have seen her. Or spoken to her. The ER was a busy place. Our roles, at least with me still being junior, didn’t collide. If I hadn’t heard her melodic voice that day, asking for directions? I’d be having my thousandth microwave dinner at home right now. Alone. Instead of dreaming about the first day of the rest of my life.
We stood, and I put my arm around her middle. I couldn’t see her face, but she leaned into me as I ushered her to a pool table I’d booked for us earlier that day. The cues were crossed over one another and because my heart started to sing with love, they looked affectionate. Cue crossed lovers.
Liz picked one up and tipped it in my direction. “Prepare to be unimpressed. I hope I topped you up with admiration for me at the supper table.”
“You had me at breathalyzer.”
She laughed. “You’re easy to impress.”
I grabbed my cue, and she took the triangle off the balls, not asking if I wanted to go first as she lined herself up against that white ball. Her hair fell down her face and onto the table, but she didn’t notice. Because even though she knew she wasn’t good, she sure as hell was going to try her best. She sight like a sniper, bit the tip of her tongue in concentration and gave the ball a good crack.
Only two balls actually separated from the pack.
She stood up, still looking at the table. “That didn’t go to plan.”
I walked around to the other side of the table and made a note to stay opposite Liz next time because along with her hair tumbled the front of that flimsy top.
We took turned taking shots, painfully watching the table like it was an anarchist state where none of them cooperated. Not a single one following our rules. We laughed. And finally got to the last ball. And even though Liz was sexy as hell, I was having so much fun that I forgot to do the cheesy, lean in and over move you always see in movies when a guy and girl play pool on a date. Damn.
Liz was so playful. She loved to joke, even to sing the occasional line, instead of speaking it. In contrast to my serious nature, she brought out the best in me. I’d never been funny. But suddenly, someone laughed at my jokes. Ones I thought I’d have to wait for kids to tell.
“Last one,” I said, gesturing to the table, “To think I booked us in for two games.”
“Shit,” she said, licking her top lip. “Do you want to see if we are better drunk than sober? Go for that second game but use another test method?”
Um. Yes, I did.
“I’m driving, young lady,” I answered. “I promised to get you home alive tonight.”
“Whatever. Leave the car. That’s what cabs are for.”
But we only got worse as we downed a shot of tequila and a mojito each. The shots pushed us over the edge and we didn’t get any better at pool but got a lot better at flirting.
Liz took riskier shots, leaning far over the felt, her breasts hanging down like juicy melons.
I shook my head, knowing I must have felt the tequila if I compared her boobs to food. But I did so want to take a bite out of her. I wandered to the other side of the table and placed my mojito on the edge of the pool table and went behind her. Time for the move.
She was still bent over now with the cue in her hand, and I planted myself behind her. I wanted to press my hips and against her backside and feel her against me.
It took a lot of self-control not to push into her. Not to press too hard, but just whisper my dick onto her ass enough for her to know I was there. I leaned over her, our bodies in tandem, both looking at the same goal down at the other end of the pool table. I was pretty much on top of her and I reached around to “help” her line up her cue stick and take the shot.
I couldn’t see her face when she said, “I bet you were imagining this moment all along, weren’t you? From the minute you asked me to this place.”
I smiled a smile she couldn’t see, but her body softened, so I knew she felt it.
“And why do you think that?” I asked, my words falling onto her sweet smelling neck.
“Because I did.” She turned her body toward me bendy, with us both awkwardly half lying on the table. “I imagined it. So you must have. All men are dogs in heat.”
“I was thinking about it,” I said, “But now all I’m thinking about it how you are double-jointed. Though now that circles me back to those initial dirty thoughts.”
She gazed at me with her diamond sparkle blue eyes, let her back fall onto the table
, her knees hanging off the edge and I kissed her.
I didn’t even care what it looked like to everyone else. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was letting Liz know she was mine now.
It was a polite, in public kiss at first. Closed mouth and I breathed her in, the smell of lime and perfume taking me on vacation for the second time since I met her. Which was only today.
Almost impossible to believe.
Liz parted her lips and slid her tongue into my mouth. I put my hands on either side of her on the pool table to brace myself, and enjoyed every second of her succulent mouth before pulling back.
“I don’t usually kiss guys on the first date,” she said. “Or on pool tables.”
“Damn. I was thinking of getting one of these for my apartment. I could get into this.”
She whisked herself up into a standing position, her face so close our noses brushed, and the warmth of her breath moistened my lips.
“Me, too.”
7
Liz
Present Day
Reno
* * *
Even though it scared me, an immense weight had lifted off my chest after telling Simone about El, our past, and the total truth about why I broke up with him. It was the first time I had been completely honest. Even though my thoughts and feelings about El weren’t fair, they were there.
Blame and shame thrive on unfairness.
Simone and I landed in Reno and I felt more chipper. It was time to execute on the logistics which took my mind off everything. Since the accident, I’d become military. No more flying by the seat of my pants. I still loved adventures. But they were no longer spontaneous.
Thankfully, Simone understood that. At the motorhome rental place they showed us to our abode for the week and seeing the inside of the spacious, kitted out vehicle? I couldn’t have thanked Simone more.
We entered from the side of the caravan up a ramp and into a big central, open space. Along the opposite side was a sink, stove, kitchen area. The driver and passenger seats swiveled around and the rental guy showed us they came with fold out tray tables to eat on and there were additional tv trays we could set within the open space. At the rear end of the vehicle were bunk beds.
