by L. B. Dunbar
I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly tugged it upward. He pulled back only slightly and reached behind his head to pull the shirt off in one smooth move that only guys can do. I immediately placed my hands on his lower abs, spreading my palms flat and fingers wide as I rubbed across his stomach above his waistband, and then pressed upward until I touched his shoulders. He was taller than me and I reached up to run my hands over his shoulders and back down the muscles of his arms. When I looked at his face, his eyes were closed.
I leaned into him, touching my covered breasts against his bare chest and he sighed as he reached for me, kissing me again without ever opening his eyes. He bent forward and picked me up under the knees. Carrying me to the bed, he placed me on top of the cover. He kicked off his shoes as I reached to pull the covers down. He knelt on the bed to crawl to me and again he had that dangerous look of a predator and I was held in trance until he was over me.
Then I was the one on the attack. I touched his chest again and moaned while looking into his eyes. His mouth found mine and my arms went around him. His warmth was surrounding me as his hand slid across my stomach to my hip, down my thigh to hitch my leg up and over his hip. The position gave him a better angle to match us up so we were pressed against each critical part of the other. His hand then slid up to cup my breast and I moaned audibly, filling the quiet room with my desire. My nipples hardened as he gently squeezed and I sighed again. The flittering feeling between my legs was strong and I pressed against him hard. Slowly I began to move back and forth against him.
He placed his hand back on my hip bone to still me.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I…I need….”
“What do you need?”
I couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t tell him what to do.
“If you don’t tell me what you want, how do I know what you need?” I pressed into him harder, hoping my actions conveyed my desire. I knew I was growing wet down there and I hoped this action was hint enough.
“Say it,” he said gently as he kissed me once. I shook my head no. I couldn’t ask him.
“Say it,” he hesitated on the word ‘it’. He kissed me again.
“Say it,” he growled into my mouth. “I need to hear the words.”
“Touch me. Please.”
He slipped his hand back up to my breast.
“Here?”
“Yes.” Where was the harlot sound coming from?
“Really?”
“Yes.” But I ground against him again.
“Liar.”
He slipped his hand down to my shorts, slipping a finger into the waistband, sliding it teasingly back and forth along my stomach. I was still pressed around him with my leg over his hip and he pushed upwards with his hips once. I gasped. He placed his fingers in my short’s pocket and gently pulled me forward, pushing up against me again. I sucked in air again. He slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts and traced the top of my thigh, heading toward my center, just inside the edge of my shorts. He stopped his torturous fingers and pushed against me again. I gasped a third time as his fingers moved the short distance inside my shorts and gently touched my now soaked panties. He moaned.
“You want me.” His voice was a smile.
“Now,” I demanded.
He rubbed his long finger against my wet middle hard then pushed himself upward against me and I fell apart. He held himself in place, pressed firmly to me, through jeans, through shorts, as I rode out the wave of my pleasure. My leg was wrapped around his hip and up his lower back, squeezing him in place and his hand was gripping my thigh firmly, holding me still.
“Oh, God,” I moaned and dug my nails gently into his shoulders. He returned to kissing me as he gently pulled back, softly rubbed his hand up and down my thigh, then moved his hand slowly back up my body. He traveled over my breasts but didn’t stop until his hand was in my hair at the base of my neck. The kissing was slowing down. He was gentle. Small pecks on my lips moved over to my cheeks, then each eyelid, and finally my forehead. He pulled back further and looked into my eyes. I was so satisfied at the moment and my eyelids were slowly closing. He kissed each one again and whispered, “Sleep.”
It is polite to accept a beverage when offered by a hostess, and sit for a few moments to sip tea or coffee. A social call should never be rushed.
“Matters of Manners,” 1959
I AWOKE WITH a jolt as Jess sprang from the bed. The room was filled with bright sunlight in the early morning and I looked at the digital alarm clock. 7:48 a.m.
“Shit, I’m so late,” Jess said as he searched the floor for his abandoned t-shirt and pulled it over his head. I smoothed my hair back and realized I was still dressed in my bra and shorts. I crossed one arm over myself, resting my hand on the opposite shoulder as a form of cover. Jess stopped in his scramble to fix his own disheveled long hair. His gaze was bright blue, a look I’d rarely seen and he knelt on the edge of the bed, reached for the hand that was covering me, and turned my palm face up. He traced the letters I.D.O.N.T.H.A.T.E.Y.O.U. delicately on the inside of my hand then smiled that lopsided smile before leaning forward to swiftly kiss me. He hastily walked out the door. A moment later, he leaned back in on the doorframe.
“I’m sorry. I sleep so well with you. But I really gotta go.” Talk to you later, he signed.
AFTER TWO hours, I could hardly sit still any longer. I was high on the physical sensation of last night, emotionally wound up by Jess’ words, and stressed over Katie’s signed I love you. I was even more concerned than before that I was in too deep with Katie, which would make leaving all the harder to explain. But I was not Katie’s mother, and despite Jess’ physical attraction to me, his words played over and over in my head. Don’t love her. I believed love was not something you could stop and start on command. Plus, I was having trouble not falling in love with Jess as well.
I decided to pay a visit to Katie, knowing Jess might not be home. I also felt I might need to apologize to Mrs. Carter. After cutting some flowers from the garden, I walked the four short blocks to their family home. When Mrs. Carter answered the door, she cheerfully invited me in before telling me that Jess and Katie were both out.
“Well, these are for you,” I handed her the flowers. “I feel I owe you an apology for my behavior last night.”
“Oh honey,” she laughed, “You aren’t teenagers. Although, by the looks of it last night, you might as well be.” She offered me homemade ice tea as she poured water in a clear drinking glass for the flowers. Then she asked me to sit at the kitchen table when the ice tea was served. I got a good look at Mrs. Carter for the first time. At the concert, I was concentrating on Nana. At Tom’s party, it was darker and most conversations happened in shadows, not to mention I was too busy concentrating on Jess. But today, I saw how young she looked. She looked younger than Sue Carpenter, despite having boys the same age. She was a fuller woman and tall like Jess and Tom. They shared the same blue eyes, but hers were duller, like Tom’s, compared to the blue-grey intensity of Jess’ and Katie’s. I had no idea what Katie’s mother looked like, but it would be obvious if Mrs. Carter, Jess, and Katie were together that they were related.
“I’m going to be honest, because that’s what I want you to be with my son. You’re going to break his heart…” She held up her hand, sensing that I would interrupt her and I stared down at my clenched hands, folding and unfolding on my lap.
“But, on the other hand, I haven’t seen that boy so excited about anyone in a long time, and it does me good to see him opening up a little.” She smiled to herself before she redirected her attention on me.
“That Debbie did a real number on him, and an even bigger number on his little girl. We’ve tried everything you can think of for that child, and one day I just realized the best I can do is love her, which I do immensely. I can see in your face you love her too, and as much as it will sting for you to leave, and leave you will, I know that little girl will know you left loving her, not d
ismissing her.”
I felt like crying. Mrs. Carter wasn’t scolding me or reprimanding me, she was stating a fact. I did love Katie, but I was still planning to leave.
The back door opened into the kitchen as a vision in bright pink bounced through the door followed by a smiling father. When Jess looked up, his expression immediately went dark as he glanced between his mother and me.
“What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Miss Emily here has brought me some flowers and we are just having a girl chat.”
Jess looked wearily at me.
“I was hoping to find Katie and take her to the beach. It’s so sunny outside and I just couldn’t concentrate on Nana’s house or my work today.” I tried to sound cheery, like nothing was on my mind. Like I hadn’t spent the night with this man holding me, doing things to me that I hadn’t felt in a long time, and desperately wanted to feel again. And again. And again.
“Well, I just stopped home to drop her off after the tutoring session.”
“Oh, I know you’re busy. I thought maybe Katie and I could have some girl time, but I understand if you say no.”
“Can I see you outside for a moment?”
Like an errant child, I followed Jess out the back door after I thanked Mrs. Carter for the ice tea.
“What did I say last night?” His tone was angry, like he was exasperated.
“Well, you said many things last night,” I tried to joke.
“Emily.” His tone was stern. “Emily, this is tricky where Katie is concerned. I need to be careful how much time she spends with you. I don’t want her hurt. As a matter of fact, I will do everything to prevent it, which might mean you not seeing her.”
Those threatening tears were back, and I felt my heart drop at the realization that Jess would cut me off from his daughter.
“You’ve done more for her than anyone ever has,” he continued. “And I can see that you share a bond with each other. But last night freaked me out when she…when she said she loved you.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t see her. I’m just trying to protect her from when you leave.” And there it was again: the suggestion that I was leaving.
Of course I was leaving. My apartment was in Chicago. My things were there. My job was there. But my heart? That was a different story. Unfortunately, while everyone was worried about protecting Jess and Katie from my departure, there was no one worrying about how it would affect me to leave them behind. It wasn’t only the suggestion of leaving, but more an implication that the time was coming soon. Very soon.
Social gatherings in a new, unfamiliar place can lead to curiosity; however, it is never appropriate to wander into areas outside those designated by the hostess. Be aware of the boundaries.
“Matters of Manner,” 1968
THERE WAS AN open invitation for me to attend the beer tent on Friday night with the Carters. The event was mentioned the night of Tom’s party and the idea of another social gathering was enticing to me. Harbor Days had a contagious excitement I could not deny, and I realized after the frantic energy of Tom’s house party how much I missed going out with other people. I loved the vibe of clubs back in the city. A beer tent, however, was not exactly a nightclub, but it would do. Jess had reissued the invitation after our conversation in his backyard yesterday in a half-hearted comment.
“Look, I’ll see you at the beer tent tomorrow, okay?”
I didn’t take Katie to the beach after all and came home to throw myself into cleaning, organizing, and preparing to paint the inside of Nana’s house. I was setting up for another long day of work and I needed the distraction from my thoughts. I let the excitement of attending a beer tent be my reward for the day’s hard work.
Jess didn’t come to my house that night, and I didn’t really expect him to, but it hurt just the same. There were so many contradictions. Don’t love Katie. He doesn’t hate me. Sleep with him. Stay away from Katie. String me to the point of desire, then reject me. Kiss me to the point of distraction, then walk away. For heaven’s sake, I’d had an orgasm through my shorts with him. It was with this thought in mind that I jumped as my phone rang early Friday morning.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Emily. It’s Jack Dooley. Your boss. The editor of Chicago Travels. Remember me?” I heard the teasing in his voice, but sensed an undertone of something more.
“Hey, Jack. Did you get those articles I sent you about the fall colors and M22? Also about the apple picking places in southern Michigan?”
“I did, I did. Good stuff. I love fall, and speaking of it, we’d really like you here for our conference on the fall edition.” He hesitated. “It’s been a month, Emily. How are things going there?”
“Good. Um, Nana’s house is almost ready. I need to do some painting and buy some things to freshen up the place, but it’s mostly ready to go on the rental market. I haven’t finalized the rental agent, but I have a call into someone for Monday.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I said Monday. It implied I would be at Nana’s a little longer.
“The town celebrates Harbor Days and it puts everyone on hold for the week leading up to this weekend.” I was rubbing my forehead as I attempted this weak explanation. Jack had been kind and understanding of my position as the sole relative responsible for Nana’s things and I didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity, but I needed a few more days.
“The conference is Thursday morning, Emily.” Another hesitation. “Can you make it back for it?” I knew that as much as this was a question, there was also a hint of demand. I needed to be there or I was jeopardizing my job.
“Thursday morning. Got it. Be there.”
“Good, good. It will be great to have you back in the office. We’ve missed you around here.”
I held the phone up to my forehead after we said our goodbyes. Thursday morning meant I would have to leave Wednesday to make the six and a half hour drive home. My home in Chicago. That feeling of Very Soon was now defined by days, and I sighed as the phone rang again against my head.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” It was Jess.
“Hey.” I sighed.
“Everything okay?”
“Sure, sure.” I sounded like my boss.
“Okay, my brother’s taking his boat out on the lakes today since we are closed for the weekend, and I was wondering…well…if you’d like to come with us? With me? With Katie?”
I didn’t want to sound too excited, and my first thought was excitement, but recalling his words yesterday stopped me.
“Are you sure? I don’t want…”
“Listen. I’m sorry about yesterday. You startled me in the kitchen with my mom and I said some things that I shouldn’t have said the way I did. It’s just…I’m a dad. I have to think of Katie first, always.”
“I understand. I would never try to jeopardize that or hurt her.”
“I know. I really hate to apologize over the phone, so can you say yes and I can say what I need to say in person.”
“Okay.” I was hesitant. This didn’t sound good. As a matter of fact, it sounded like a preamble to a break up. But we aren’t together, I scolded myself. And now I’m leaving on Wednesday, anyway.
“Is that an okay-yes or an okay-maybe?”
“A yes. Definitely yes.”
I scolded myself again as I ran up the stairs to put on my bathing suit, forgetting all about painting for the day. What am I doing?
THE BOAT WAS able to hold Jess, Katie, and me, as well as Tom and his daughters, Madison and Meghan. Tom’s wife, Karyn, didn’t want to risk the boat ride with her late pregnancy. The plan was to meet up with Karyn’s younger brother, Ethan Scott, in the middle of the lake and switch people around if needed for water skiing. Tricia and Trent were with Ethan. I hadn’t been water skiing since I was a little girl and I was nervous to try again. Thankfully, the younger girls went first. Tom was the driver while Jess was the official spotter.
We were picking up speed as we ex
ited the harbor and began to travel across Elk Lake. I was standing in the passenger seat, leaning on the top edge of the open window taking in the fresh lake air. Jess slid in behind me, sitting on the back of the seat rather than the chair. Katie and her cousins had on their life jackets as they sat on the bow of the boat, holding on as Tom increased the speed. Katie was smiling as her cousins yelled, “Faster. Faster,” at their father
When Tom made a slight jump in the water, I fell backwards awkwardly onto Jess’ spread legs. I moved forward to stand up again when Jess grabbed my hips and adjusted me to sit between his legs, leaning back against his bare chest. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun and he kissed my bare shoulder as the boat skimmed faster. I looked up to see Katie watching us, and I put my arm out to grab the top of the open window and pull myself forward to regain my earlier stance.
As the younger girls each took their turn to water ski, I remembered an embarrassing incident when I was a developing teenager wearing a string bikini, and I was starting to second guess wearing my navy-blue halter cut two-piece today. I had to try to get up on the skis in the water, which was more difficult than being dragged from a dock, and I almost fell over face first before I dropped the line on my first attempt.
On the second attempt, I got up, but warned Tom to go slower at first. As the familiarity of skiing came back, I began to enjoy the spray of the water and the thrill of the speed. I risked letting go of the line with one hand to signal faster, and I was able to see Jess despite the spray. I assumed when he turned away it was to tell Tom to speed up. The feeling was exhilarating and I was carefree for just a few moments. I wasn’t going to think about my job or Nana’s house. I wasn’t going to question Jess’ contradictions or Katie’s emotions. I looked around at the white caps of the waves made by the boat’s wake, the dark blue of the water up ahead, the flash of greenery as trees blended together on the shores of the lake, and another bright red boat off in the distance. I gave a whoop of excitement.
