by Lass Small
But she exuberantly wrapped her arms around him again and kissed him back.
His desire stirred.
That too seldom happened after so complete a release. She was remarkable.
She was as frisky as a pup, as delightful as one. She was maddening as a delicious woman, and again irresistible. And he made love to her again, but without taking them to completion.
* * *
They tumbled and laughed and teased and taunted. They coupled and parted. It was fun.
When they lay panting, resting, she said in a disgruntled way, “I’ve wasted a lot of time being so pure.”
“No!” his voice was harsh when he’d planned only to be firm. “It’s because you’ve behaved yourself that you have this delight. If you’d been sleeping around, by now it would all be stale and quite routine.”
“Really?” With no knowledge of how gracefully sexual it was, she rolled over onto her stomach to prop her chin on her hand so that she could study him. “You seemed to have a good time and not find it all that stale and routine.”
“I haven’t had all that many experiences.” He looked her straight in the eye, and he said, “Not all men are bed hoppers.”
That made her curious. “Then how do you know what to do?”
“My parents. Books. My dad and mother must have a great relationship. They always told us kids that sex is one of life’s gifts of responsibility.”
She smiled. “My mother and dad really like each other. They knew each other a long time before they married. She was a virgin on their wedding night.” Amy thought for a minute and added, “I don’t think I’ll get married. I like being in the business world. Taking a part in things. And now that I know I like sex, I’ll be a man-izer.”
“No.” The word was quite positive and left no question as to its meaning.
“Well, this is a fine time for you to make a statement like that!” She laughed and ruffled his hair quite sassily.
His voice rumbled deeply as he replied, “I don’t want you to become a careless woman. A tart.”
Impishly she inquired, “Why didn’t you say that when you found out you would be my first lover?”
“I’m not an iron man.” He was serious.
She put her hand on him. “Not iron? Phooey. Steel?”
“Be careful,” he warned. “I’ve never had a woman excite me the way you do. I could not put you from my mind. I wanted you.”
“Before I made my move?” She was delighted. “You, too?”
“Yes.” He was more solemn.
She saw that and said, “Don’t go getting serious on me, Chas. This is an interlude. No more. You’re being very nice about showing me the ropes... Uh— knowing the ropes. Do you suppose that saying came from sailing days?”
“What?” He was at sea.
“Showing someone ‘the ropes.’ I suppose that could be an old salt showing a new kid how to tie knots and haul lines? Are you an old salt?”
He ignored her conversational lure. He told her, “I’m going to climb on board and sail you into oblivion.” And he did. With great skill he made her frantic for him, and her needing him— that badly— fired him to new heights, so that their coupling was exquisite and their satisfaction complete.
They sighed and smiled at each other, then he reached to turn off the light before he pulled her to him, arranged the blanket, turned off the TV, and they slept.
* * *
For the second morning, Amy was awake at dawn. It wasn’t that she wakened rested and ready to get out of bed, it was that Chas was moving his hands on her, nuzzling his face against her, hungry again. She said, “You silly old salt. Go back to sleep!”
But he didn’t. She turned away from him, plumped her pillow and settled down. But he moved close, curled into her, his mouth seeking, his new beard causing goose bumps on her as he whiskered her tender skin.
She chuckled. His voice rumbled in sounds that sent sensations skittering along her body.
He slid his hands over her uneven body and touched and stroked. He turned her to suckle and nip.
She wiggled and squeaked and laughed for a time, then she moved languidly tempting and joined in his sensual play until they made love again.
She stretched under him, and his green eyes watched her. “Will we do anything else today?”
He was positive. “No.”
She grinned at him, then reached up and played with his ears and smoothed his eyebrows. “If I got into the pool, I’d drown. I couldn’t move enough to stay afloat. How do married people survive?”
“I’m just trying to figure how I’ll manage the energy to get dressed for the dinner tonight and attend the wedding tomorrow.”
“Sally invited me to a hen party after the dinner tonight. Okay?”
It thrilled him that she had asked his permission. Was she aware that she had? “Don’t be too long.” Then, oddly, he added, “Be careful of yourself.”
“Why?” She gave him a naughty look. How had she known to do that? She deliberately lowered her lashes and made the look wicked.
He grinned and shook his head. “You could turn into a dreadful tease.”
“Not a tart?”
“No.” He was serious again.
“If you will get off, I need to take a bath. I’m quite sticky.”
“I’ll bathe you.” His voice cracked.
“Now that I can do by myself. I did need you to show me how to do sex, and I really appreciate it. I’ll never forget you. But I can bathe myself.”
“It could be fun to bathe you.”
She sassed, “I might let you another time.”
“When we have lots of time. Like now.”
She protested. “I am absolutely starving!”
“Go bathe. I’ll fix your breakfast.”
“How do you know what I want to eat?”
“I saw your plates yesterday morning. You have the appetite of a stevedore!”
She shrugged as she grinned. “I won’t ever get fat. Our family...”
“I’ll see to it you get enough exercise.”
She grinned. “I know. Swimming, golf...”
“Bed.”
“That old exercise!” She sighed and let her arms collapse out on the bed.
In a gruff voice, he said, “I want you again.”
She frowned sassily at him. “Are all men insatiable?”
“Only me with you.”
“You are terrific.” She pulled his head down to kiss him. “I’m a little sore.”
“I suppose you would be. I’ve been greedy.” He moved carefully from her. “But as with any exercise, you can adjust to this new variety.”
She laughed again as she rose from the bed. Dragging the top sheet along to cover her front, she collected her dress and pulled it over her head. “You sound as if we’re going to work into a routine.”
“Aren’t we?” He lay watching her.
“We can’t get into a routine in just another couple of days.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not in a couple of days.”
In the silken dress, she turned and gave him a thrilling view of her short, tumbled hair, her saucy face, her back and the curve of her breast as she looked at him, quite level eyed. “That’s all there will be. I leave on Sunday.”
He readily agreed, “Of course.” But he smiled at her.
She went into the bathroom and turned on the water to fill the tub. Then she went to the very neglected bedroom and chose a pair of shorts, a pullover and underwear. She went back to the kitchen and asked, “Do you always cook naked?”
“I make it a point to get down to basics.”
She nodded, accepting that. “Would you like to bathe first?”
“I’ll shower during your first course.”
She cautioned, “Don’t get carried away. I only eat a normal woman’s portion.”
“Got it. Hash browns?”
“No.”
“Hustle up.”
She left him busily working an
d returned to the bath and stripped. She sprinkled some bath oil into the water and settled in blissfully, allowing the water to fill as full as it would. Then she turned it off to lie there, smiling with her eyes closed.
“A mermaid.”
Her eyes popped open to see Chas standing there magnificently. She blushed and her hands flew to cover herself, but she smiled a little.
He squatted down, leaned over the tub, plunged his arms into the water to gather her close as he lifted her to him and kissed her.
“What is it about me in water that makes you want to drown me and kiss me?”
“You won’t drown,” he assured her gruffly. “I’ll keep you safe. You need to get out. If you don’t and I get into that tub with you, mermaid, we’ll have to fix another breakfast. Yours is ready.”
She sat up, then accepted his hand as she stood. “I’m absolutely starved!” She grabbed a concealing towel and discreetly began drying herself.
He helped, but he was selective where he dried. He commented as if in relief, “Well, at last I’ve found something to distract you from sex.”
Her eyes became serious. “Chas. Do you feel as if I’ve...used you?”
Sadly, he declared, “My body’s all that interests you.”
“Well.” She considered him carefully. “You do have marvelous eyelashes.”
“How nice.”
Concerned, she pressed. “Chas, I haven’t hurt your feelings, have I?”
“I’ll live.” He turned away in a slumped posture. Still gorgeously nude. But he was a perfect model for the Defeated Warrior.
Amy frowned after him. Then she hurried into her clothes and tidied the bath as he brought his clothes in to have them ready for his shower.
By the counter bar in the kitchen-living room, her place was set at the table. There was cranberry juice. There was a covered dish with eggs and bacon. And toast was in a covered hot bowl. He had done an excellent job of it.
She ate with good appetite, but she squinted her eyes out over the complex.
Chas had opened the drapes and the sliding door onto a perfect day. Did he really know she had just picked him up to use him for sex?
While that was true, it would be a shame for him to feel as if he’d been a...sex object. She couldn’t allow that.
Affairs might be more trouble than they were worth. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But she was so grateful she’d found him.
She went over all the men who had seemed attractive to her in these last months, and she wondered if any one of them could have been as marvelous as Chas. Not one.
He was the epitome of all males. She couldn’t imagine doing such an intimate thing with any other man she’d ever met. She’d been lucky he had come along at just the right time.
But... But... But how would she ever find a man to match him? Ahh, there was the rub. Was she allowed this taste of paradise because she would never have another?
Surely that wouldn’t be so. Surely she would find others? If she never did, she was glad she had had him. It was worth it. He was worth all this effort. What a special man he was.
Dressed, he came to the table. His hair was still wet. He sat down across from her and smiled at her. “I like having breakfast with you.”
“You know that I travel? I am very seldom at home. So seldom that I live with my parents on those rare off times.”
“Where is that?”
“No exchange of information, remember?”
“I, too, travel. I thought our paths might cross on occasion.”
“No, Chas. I could get used to you.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“I’m not ready.”
“I’ll give you my card. If ever you change your mind, you would give me a call?”
She asked very seriously, “Would you want me, eleven men later?”
“An entire football team?” He expressed great shock.
But she nudged it. “You do understand me.”
“I would have to see you, Amy. I think we should explore this magic between us. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Is it us? The weather? A spell? Would it last? We hardly know each other’s names, and look at this miracle. I want to keep in touch.”
“It’s only an interlude,” she warned him. “Push, and we’ll have to split now.”
“You’re a hard-nosed woman.”
“See?” She smiled gently. “I’m not perfect.”
“Close enough.” He grinned at her. “Eat your breakfast. I have a car. I’ll take you down the coast a way. I’ll find you a memento so as you’ll remember me.”
“What?” she asked. Her eyes were gently on him. Memorizing him.
He replied casually, “I’ll know when I see it.” And he looked at Amy.
Five
During Friday, the rest of the Cougar clan began to arrive for the wedding. First came the young marrieds, then the couples with families and finally the rest of the senior members.
The influx was filtered with laughter and greetings and family talk with exclamations that bordered on rude. “So you’re still wearing that?” “My God, Freddie, you’re skinny as a rail!” “When’s the funeral?” “Ah, Chas, are your parents here? No? Still in China? When did they go there?”
Amy heard that. It was a relief to her to know Chas’s parents would not be there. She didn’t know how she would react to their knowing their son was— uh— shacked up with a stranger who was claiming to be kin.
By then, the extended Cougars had begun to realize Amy wasn’t a visitor, she was “one of Trilby’s” offshoots. With their probing questions, it was about then that Amy began to understand about the Spanish Inquisition.
The questioning was intense. “So? One of the Trilby’s?” That was said with a disbelieving stare.
One who lies always keeps to the simplest replies. She responded, “I’m not sure. My grandmother’s name was Charity Winsome, but I have no idea about her mother’s name.” And Amy wished desperately that she’d never been tempted to begin this charade.
However, about that time she saw Chas across the room, and she couldn’t regret his intimacy. Her first.
Another relative observed in a critical drawl, “You don’t look like us.”
Chas replied to that, “She has the Cougar dark hair.”
“It’s different,” was the flat rejoinder. “Hers has a red glint, and ours is black.”
“Connie’s blond,” Chas mentioned and he did try to keep his face somewhat serious. However, the lights in his eyes danced with his humor.
“Connie isn’t a genuine Cougar,” was one old lady’s quite tart, dismissive reply.
An older man decided, “Let’s claim Amy as one of us. As good-looking as she is, who cares? Come here, child, and give your old ‘cousin’ a kiss.”
Amy did smile, but she pressed back against Chas, who intervened, “Now, now, Bart, remember all the older ladies are here and know you well. You need to behave yourself.”
So while the younger ones had accepted Amy quite casually— although not with the enthusiasm of Bart— the older ones were suspicious. Amy avidly wished to God she’d never started the farce.
But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t now be sharing a suite with her “cousin” Chas. So how could she regret her foolish, impulsive intrusion into the Cougar gathering?
* * *
On the hotel’s sixth floor, there were pockets of busily visiting relatives, but there were always several who concentrated on Amy’s background.
“Who are your parents?” they asked.
“The Aaabbotts.” There were those extra A‘s again. She had almost said Allen, her true last name.
Especially older people tend to pin facts down. One asked, “Where do you live?” A simple question for a simple reply. It was an easy question for almost anyone. Except Amy. How was she to respond with telling everything.
In her impulsive leap to an affair, Amy had never anticipated the grilling by Chas’s family. It was obvious
she would have to attend to the concoction of some sort of background. She hedged her reply, “Well... Dad moves around.”
“What does he do?” How routine that question is.
But Amy responded lamely, “Uh...polls.”
“You’re not very chatty, are you?” was the critical, adult observation.
Again, Chas replied for her. Very kindly and openly, he told the quizzers, “That’s the way pollsters talk. Haven’t you ever been a victim of a pollster? They say, ‘Answer yes or no— Have you quit beating your wife?’”
Chas waited for the usual groans that question always brought, then he went on quite loyally, “Pollsters all prefer one-word replies. It simplifies counting answers.”
Then before the relative could ask any more questions, Chas said, “We have to go. We just stopped by to say hello, but we’re on our way.”
“Good,” said Cousin Bart. “I’ll go with you.”
“Not this time.” Chas smiled as he skillfully took Amy right on out of the busily chatting mob. “We’ll be back for the dinner tonight,” he said over his shoulder to those who tried to stop them, and the two escapees left.
“I’ve always read about running gauntlets,” Amy walked on wobbly legs. “Was that one?”
“Very similar,” Chas replied with amusement. “Instead of sharp sticks, they have sharp tongues. Some time you will see what they can do to interlopers.”
Although he watched her with sparkling green eyes, he appeared not to notice her pale face, and he made no comment about her being discomforted by personal questions.
When they had safely reached the quadrangle, Amy shook her head and heaved a big, calming sigh. “Our family hasn’t any relatives, and I’ve always been sorry— before— but now I’m not so sure.”
“They’re all just great,” he promised. “Wait and see. In times of stress, they gather around and scold and argue. They demand special attentions, and they fix things. They’re wonderful.”
He seemed sure.
She was doubtful. She commented in censure. “The Cougars are so noisy! That’s probably why the hotel put them on the sixth floor. Sound rises.” Then she conceded, “They do appear to enjoy themselves.” That was true, and Chas nodded. Laughter was the primary Cougar sound.
