Enlightened Love

by Shara Lanel

  “Native American?”

  “No, as in Himalayan.”

  “Oh.” She looked perplexed. “You don’t look Indian. You look Italian, I think.”

  Rick grinned. “I think I have a bit of that in me, but mostly British and some ‘good ol’ boy,’ as my cousin says.”

  “Your cousin?” She looked around. “Is he here with you?”

  “Well, he was. I haven’t seen him in almost an hour. He said he’d give me ‘operating room,’ so I guess that’s why he’s disappeared.”

  Kerry choked on her water. “So this is an operation you have going here?” She laughed. “Somehow I’m not impressed with your success.”

  Scowling, Rick sipped his beer, which tasted foul, so he scowled harder. “I’ve had success, but not the kind I was looking for.”

  “Oh, that kind of success.” She rolled her eyes, making Rick wonder exactly what she meant. Interpreting his blank look, she asked, “Guys hit on you?”

  “What?” Rick snapped his glass to the bar, sloshing the liquid onto his hand. “Why would they do that?” Then he recalled the men dancing together. He’d heard whispers among the monks about such things, but luckily had never encountered it himself. “No. Women. Only women, thank you.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Isn’t a woman what you’re after?”

  Rick thought that it probably wouldn’t be manly to admit that the women here made him want to turn tail and run, so he said, “Too much make-up.”

  Kerry rubbed her chin. “Well, that’s not usually a hang up for a guy.”

  “Don’t like it, and they had all this gunk in their hair.”

  “What about grime? Does that suit you better?” Kerry fingered her hair and grimaced.

  “Really this is just the wrong place for me, and if I could find Evan, I’d be ready to leave.” Rick looked down the bar and at the dance floor. A man and woman gyrated atop a pillar. The anorexic-looking woman raked painted nails through the man’s hair as she licked his chin, and the man’s hands squeezed her to him so he could grind into her. He slid his thigh against her crotch and she pumped against it. Rick’s cock twitched at the surprisingly erotic sight. Maybe he was being too picky about the woman. It was just sex, or so his cousin kept telling him. Right? He sighed and finished his perusal of the room. No sign of Evan.

  “Does he play pool?” Kerry asked.

  “Pool? Swimming?”

  “No pool, with a long stick and balls.”

  “Oh, billiards.” He nodded. “I suppose. I really don’t know Evan that well yet. We just met a few weeks ago.”

  Kerry eyed him like he was the strangest specimen she’d ever seen. “Well, he’s probably upstairs. You want me to show you?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Kerry slid from the stool, pulled up her duffel and swung it over her shoulder, then paused, tapping her chin. “This Evan wouldn’t happen to be a tow truck driver, would he?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  The woman huffed before turning to push through the crowd. She glanced behind her. “By the way, I recommend Ukrop’s.”

  “Excuse me?” He stared at the crowbar sticking out of her bag.

  “Ukrop’s, you know, the grocery store. Great place to pick up women au naturel, and if you look like you know what you’re doing, they may even assume you cook. A man cooking—great turn on.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rick said. He cooked Hindi, at least. Perhaps tomorrow he’d browse through some cookbooks at that giant bookstore he’d found. He needed every little advantage, it seemed, if he was to feel equal to the task of losing his virginity.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kerry led Rick up the narrow staircase at the back of the club and into the little attic room that held two pool tables, an old pinball machine, and an overstuffed couch. A half dozen men and women surrounded each table. The women displayed their “assets” by leaning low over the tables, whether or not it was their shot. Kerry swore she could see one woman’s nipples over the top of her bra. The men involved in the game seemed to be impressed by the sight, judging by their leering gazes and unconscious touches to their dicks. She glanced at Rick as he scanned the room for his cousin. Instead of seeming impressed by the view, he seemed confused, almost scared.

  “See your cousin anywhere?” she asked, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. The thing weighed a ton, but she couldn’t risk losing what little she had left. Earlier she’d spent some time in the club’s bathroom washing off the day’s grime and rearranging her wardrobe so that she looked a bit less like a bag lady. She’d also taken some time to fold or roll her clothes in the duffel so that she could take off a layer or two.

  “No, I don’t see him. But at least it’s quieter up here and less smoky. Would you like to sit?” He gestured to the couch.

  Kerry agreed, but her mind was still on her sorry predicament. She hated remembering the last time she’d seen Jason, but the memories intruded as she touched a hand to the scar on her cheek. She’d left that night, after the murder. Jason had ordered her to her room, expecting her to docilely obey while her father had arrived to clean up his mess. Revulsion and fear had helped her take flight through the veranda doors with the duffel bag full of her belongings. Jason and a couple of the bouncers from his club, Sentron One, had caught up with her when she’d stepped off the bus in LA. And now she had a scar from a searing hot bullet.

  At least I’m not dead.

  After she’d left California in a car she’d bartered for with a diamond bracelet, she’d driven a zigzagging course across the country, nursing the gunshot wound on her cheek the whole way. She’d spend a couple of days on the road, then when she couldn’t stand it a moment more she would hole up in a motel in a nowhere town regretting every choice she’d ever made. By the time she reached Virginia, she’d gone through her stash of jewelry and had less than one hundred dollars in her pocket. Her last motel stop had been in Roanoke, Virginia. From there she’d driven straight to Richmond.

  Of course at that point, after three thousand miles through deserts, plains and mountains, the little Bug had died near the high traffic intersection at the edge of the VCU campus.

  For the next two weeks she’d slept in her car, unwilling to spend what little she had left on a motel room and afraid to try a shelter. She had visited this bar on a couple of occasions with the vague notion of getting a man to take her home, but she’d always chickened out, the memory of Jason and the prostitute too real in her mind. But tonight it was all gone, the jewels, the money and her car.

  Now as she sat next to GQ Guy on the couch, she wondered if she could go through with her plan this time. She had visions of dinner, a warm bed and a shower. She refused to think about what the man would expect in return. At least during Ladies Night, she hadn’t had to waste non-existent dollars on an entry fee.

  She glanced at Rick. He seemed a man of few words, able to keep his own council. “So, are you and your cousin roomies?”

  Rick looked at her with piercing blue eyes framed by laugh lines and long dark lashes. “No, I own a house.”

  “Nearby?”

  “On Monument. It’s really harmonious, but I feel claustrophobic sometimes. There are not enough grass, trees, mountains.” He stretched his arm across the back of the couch in universally masculine form, warming Kerry’s shoulders with its closeness. “I wish to start a garden, but my yard is pitifully small.”

  This man was very different from others of Kerry’s acquaintance. “Have you thought of container gardening? My sister lives in Baltimore and that’s what she does. She has pots on her patio and in her kitchen and on every sill.” Kerry thought about her sister who she hadn’t seen in too long. It often crossed her mind that she could call her collect and ask for help, but her sister would call her father. That she couldn’t risk.

  “That is a good idea,” Rick said, drawing her attention back to the bustling room and the calm man beside her. “I have what Evan calls a ‘Florida room’ that would ser
ve the purpose, I think. What about you? Do you live nearby?”

  “You might say that,” Kerry said, going for a straight face.

  Rick looked her right in the eye for a moment. Then something caught his attention. “Ah, there is Evan, by that game.”

  Kerry felt a clench of desperation, especially as she realized Evan was indeed the tow truck driver who had taken her car. The night was getting on; last call would be soon. Rick seemed like a nice guy, someone who wasn’t slimy in any way, unlike his car-thieving cousin. And it was either Rick or the street. She tried to imagine spending the night on cold concrete with the crowbar as her only protection. Could she do it?

  “Well, he looks pretty engrossed in his game.” Kerry leaned towards Rick, purposely brushing the swell of a breast against his arm.

  He was an attractive man. In another life she would have liked to pursue him for a date and a normal relationship, but her life had been following this downhill course for quite some time. Every time she thought she’d struck bottom, she discovered there was always further to fall.

  “You’re right. He looks like he is enjoying his game.” Looking around, Rick asked, “Are you here with someone?”

  “No, all alone.”

  Rick looked her in the eye again. He knew, Kerry thought. Maybe Evan had told him about this afternoon. But then he said, “Oh. I’d noticed that most of the women seem to travel in packs.”

  Kerry laughed. “They do, don’t they?” She leaned closer and fluttered her lashes, knowing she was being obvious and feeling stupid for it.

  “Is something in your eye?” Rick asked. From the pinball game, Evan glanced up and waved in their direction.

  “Yes, I have something in my eye. Can you see it?”

  Rick leaned closer to observe, and Kerry used the opportunity to touch her thigh to his. She was surprised at the heat pooling in the center of her body. It had been a long time since she’d felt genuinely attracted to a man. Finally, he noticed her efforts and his breath caught. “I can’t see anything,” he said softly. “Just deep brown lagoons.”

  Kerry laughed, she couldn’t help herself. “That is the best line I’ve ever heard.”

  Rick sat back, abashed. “I’m sorry. Did I offend you?”

  “No, but lagoons? That doesn’t sound very complimentary. Right up there with swamps, I think.”

  At that moment, Rick’s cousin sauntered up, followed by a tittering blonde woman with goopy hair. Kerry’s throat tightened. Would he recognize her? Would he tell Rick how desperate she’d been that afternoon? Or maybe he had already. Kerry tried to relax, knowing she couldn’t change the past no matter how many times she’d wished to.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Evan asked.

  “We were just discussing the properties of lagoons versus swamps,” Rick said, grinning. “Very pleasant conversation.”

  “If you say so.” Evan was a tall man who knew the power of his good looks, as evidenced by his stance and smug grin. “I want to introduce you to Sonia here. Sonia, this is my cousin Rick Abernathy, the one I was tellin’ yah about.”

  “The one from the monastery?” she asked, sticking a long manicured nail between her teeth and biting it. Kerry cringed, thinking how much that manicure must have cost to be destroyed with one bite.

  “You were in a monastery?” Kerry looked at Rick curiously. He certainly didn’t look like monk material, but he had mentioned India.

  He gave a wry smile. “Yes.” He looked at his cousin. “Evan, this is Kerry. Kerry, my cousin Evan Webley.”

  Focusing on Kerry for the first time, Evan scowled. “Hey, you’re romancing the wrong guy if you want your car back.”

  “We were just talking,” Kerry grumbled as shame pressed at her stomach.

  Sonia twittered and slid her whole body against Evan so that her breasts encased his arm. Her hand traveled down his chest to his abdomen. She paused, perhaps tempted to move her hand lower. She obviously felt left out of the conversation.

  Evan grimaced but didn’t push her away. “Sonia mentioned that she needs a ride home and I thought you might like to take her.” Kerry sensed a strong “hint, hint” in that suggestion.

  “Well, I already promised Kerry a ride.” Rick paused. “But you could ride with us if you’d like. Where do you live?”

  “The West End.”

  “Oh, well Kerry lives way across the river, near Chester, in fact, so perhaps Evan had better take you. He lives in the West End and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.” The man could think on his feet; Kerry was proud of him. Evan, however, did not look as happy.

  “Oh, that’s a perfect idea!” Sonia had a death grip on Evan’s arm. “I just need to get my wrap.” She started tugging Evan away.

  “Gee, I owe you one, Cuz,” he said, then gave in and followed Sonia.

  “Her wrap?” Kerry giggled. “She looks like she is the wrap!”

  Rick laughed, a robust laugh that chipped away some of the shame in Kerry’s stomach and gave her the impression that he was a man who enjoyed life.

  Hearing Rick’s laughter, Evan turned back. “Take care of yourself, Cuz. And remember, Kerry or whoever you are, he can’t get your car back for you.”

  “I’m not trying to get my car back,” Kerry mumbled.

  “It’s okay,” Rick said. “Ignore him and let’s get out of here.”

  * * * *

  Rick cleared his throat as the engine of his BMW hummed. He normally enjoyed the white noise of wind whipping past and tires rolling on asphalt, but after the brash loudness of the club, the extreme quietness of the car disturbed him. “Thanks for keeping mum about where you live. Sonia was simply not my type.”

  “No problem.” Kerry glanced at him.

  The light changed to green. He waited for the cars in front of him to inch forward before turning right onto the Boulevard. “In fact, I’m beginning to doubt Evan’s taste in women.”

  “I think your doubts may be well-founded.” A streetlamp momentarily lit her face, so that he could see that tiny dimples appeared when she smiled.

  As they paused under another streetlamp, Rick glanced at her profile and admired the silhouette of her pert nose and long lashes. “By the way, where do you live?” He immediately regretted his words, remembering Evan’s story. Kerry turned away from him and he knew he was forcing her to lie.

  “Near you, I think.”

  Why did she refuse to admit the truth? Why not ask for help? Was it pride or was he assuming too much? Maybe Evan had read the situation wrong. The car in front of him turned on a blinker and slowed. Rick waited while it slipped into the small space by the curb. “On Monument?” he prompted when the silence seemed too long.

  “Yes.”

  A few more moments passed. “Do you want to give me your address?”

  Abruptly, Kerry turned to him. She hesitated, playing with the strap of her bag, then blurted, “Don’t you want to take me home?”

  “Uh…”

  Kerry averted her face, looking out the window at the Colonial-style brick houses and the occasional lighted balcony full of partying VCU students. “No, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was, ‘don’t you want to invite me over for a drink?’” She didn’t look at him while waiting for his answer.

  “Do you want to come over for a drink?” Rick asked, wondering if he truly wanted her to. He felt comfortable with her, he realized. He wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. His body reacted and he knew he’d like to do more than just “spend time” with her.

  An image of Inela in a casual sari filled his mind. Her long, dark fingers gracefully poured him a cup of tea as she chatted about the village women. That had been before he’d lectured her once again about giving up her line of work. Then she’d averted her eyes and closed her lips in a straight, stubborn line. If only she’d listened. If only he’d been there for her…

  “Yes, I would.”

  Kerry’s answer brought him back to the present, and Rick turned the car into t
he cobbled alley behind his building and parked. It was not the most visually appealing part of his property with trashcans, high brick walls, and weeds poking through the cobbles. One of his elderly neighbors insisted on keeping an old couch permanently behind his wall—for the stray animals, he’d said.

  Rick opened Kerry’s door for her. “It’s through here.” He led her through his garden gate and a screened back patio.

  “It’s very nice,” she said. Rick had the feeling she was just being polite. The place had been left without maintenance during the months it had taken his aunt’s solicitors to locate him in India, then longer as they convinced him to accept his inheritance and return to the States, but to him the cushioned furniture and gas stove made him feel like royalty. Not to mention his newest luxury, a thirty-two inch television.

  His kitchen was large and tidy. A three-tiered basket held garlic bulbs, onions and mangoes. Bunched peppers and herbs hung from the pan rack. A small Buddha and stubby candles sat on the sill over the sink.

  Kerry looked around then whirled to face him. “Um, I feel so grubby, would you mind if I, um, showered?”

  Moonlight from the kitchen window lit Kerry’s brown eyes and high cheekbones. She hadn’t seemed like much to look at in her shabby clothing, but suddenly Rick’s body found her very attractive. His cock stirred and before his rational mind could catch up, he had visions of steamy water running down her naked body, between her plump breasts and over her taut pink nipples. Her flat stomach would glisten as the water flowed naturally to the V of fur at the juncture of her thighs. Thinking about fitting his penis into that wet juncture had him gulping for air and sanity.

  “Sure.” He stepped quickly in front of her to lead the way, before his face could betray his thoughts. “It’s upstairs.” Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the hardwood floor to the stairs.

  Rick tended to keep his house neat, a habit learned at the monastery. He still had few of his own worldly belongings, but his aunt had left much of her antique furniture to him. Evan had helped him choose a bed, vetoing his plan to sleep on a cot as he had at the monastery. He was an American, Evan had said, so he had to live like one. The bed was a king size with four posts and half a dozen pillows. Rick usually threw them all to the floor during the night, preferring to keep his body flat as he was accustomed to, in a sort of meditative pose. But he had to admit, at least to himself, that the pillow-top mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets brought him extremely close to nirvana each night.