Enlightened Love

by Shara Lanel

  “Kerry, this is not necessary.” His breath came faster. Kerry’s hands slipped to his waistband and began to push the fabric from his hips. “Stop, Kerry. Please look at me.”

  Kerry didn't want to look up. She didn’t want to consider the ramifications. She just wanted to do and feel.

  “Look at me.” He stroked hair from her forehead. “You do not have to do this.”

  Kerry looked into Rick’s passionate blue eyes. “I want to.”

  She pulled him to her and sealed that vow with a kiss.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rick was out of his depth, this he knew. Here he was kissing this attractive woman, his libido going wild, but he couldn’t stop his mind. His mind was saying, “This is not right, she feels she owes you this.” Rick wasn’t sure how he felt about her, if he even liked her. He hardly knew Kerry. He had no idea what brought her to these circumstances. Was she lazy, alcoholic, scatterbrained? Perhaps she was mentally ill.

  His instincts rebelled. Something had brought her to this state, and she would confide in him in her own time.

  Kerry’s fingers threaded through his hair, her tongue explored his mouth, then his jaw. As she nibbled his neck, Rick’s hands roved from her shoulders down her arms to her waist. He pulled her close, pressing his erection into her. Lord, he wanted her! But his mind asked, “Do you want her or would any woman do?” The lust he had held off for so many years was overtaking him, controlling him, making his cock throb for release.

  “Kerry.” His voice sounded rough. He cleared his throat. “Kerry, stop.” Her tongue flicked his nipple and her hands pressed against his shaft. It felt so good. New and different. He closed his eyes. “Kerry, please.” Please go on. But that wasn’t what he meant. He meant to tell her to stop, but her fingers had found his balls and they played there, swishing them back and forth between her fingers and thumb. Her lips wended their way down his chest and abdomen. She paused just above his pubic hair. She’s going to suck you. She wants to suck you.

  If only he could believe that. He struggled to find his conscience as her tongue moved among his curls. He pulled her hands away and stepped back, and when she reached for him again he held her arms to her sides.

  She raised confused eyes to his face. Her gaze narrowed and anger laced her voice. “I don’t get you. What do you want? Do you want a repeat of last night? Fine. I won’t say no.”

  Rick sighed. “That’s the problem, Kerry. You won’t say no.”

  “I told you, I want to do this. Or do you want me to resist? Does that turn you on?”

  Rick was unsure of her meaning. He walked over to the couch, chest heaving, leaving Kerry standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. As he walked, he rebuttoned his pants. He adjusted himself so he could sit without pain and buttoned his shirt. What should he say to her? He couldn’t explain it to himself. He wanted to lose his virginity, to declare himself a monk no longer and, in a way, to pay back Inela and Rama Prasad for the disillusionment they’d caused him. But he couldn’t let go of his morals so easily.

  “This isn’t about resisting. It’s about me not knowing you, and you feeling obligated to me. I meant it when I said you could stay as long as you need to, and that doesn’t mean you have to pay me back with this type of … service.”

  Kerry crossed her legs and lowered herself to the floor. “What do you want to know about me?”

  Rick leaned forward and put his hands under his chin, attempting to forget his aching body. “You said you don’t have family or friends in the area?” Kerry nodded. “So why are you here?”

  “This is where my car broke down. I couldn’t go any farther.”

  “Where were you heading?”

  “East, maybe the coast.”

  “Do you have family there?”

  “No. My family, for the most part, lives on the West Coast. My sister lives in Baltimore, but I can’t contact her right now.” She paused and bit her lip.

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t. Don’t ask me to explain. It’s probably better if you don’t know.”

  Sighing, Rick rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t understand you.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Ditto?”

  Kerry smiled. “You don’t quite have all the idioms down, do you? Ditto means ‘the same,’ I feel the same. It’s from pre-laser printer days. They used to make copies with a mimeograph machine and these were called dittos.”

  “Ah,” Rick said, not really understanding. What was it about Kerry that made her so attractive to him? He tried to remember her bedraggled state, greasy hair, smelly clothes, but that image wouldn’t come. He suddenly pictured her body bathed in moonlight, his palms skimming over her skin, his cock, harder than he’d ever felt it in his life, pressed against her butt. He needed some time away from her, time to sort out his moral qualms. Did it really matter if she was a relative stranger to him? Evan depicted sex as a physical thing with no strings attached. Why not just take what she offered without guilt?

  Shaking his head, he stood. “I think we should go to bed … not together. Just to sleep, I mean.”

  Kerry smiled at his stumble, but then frowned. “Rick, are you sure? I’m perfectly willing. You’re a handsome man and I’m really turned on. Still.”

  So was he, but admitting that would only fuel her protests, so he said, “I am sure. We will sleep.”

  “That’s fine.” Her frown remained. “Do you have a spare bed or shall I bunk on the couch?”

  “No, you take the bed. I’ll sleep in the other room.” He was most comfortable sleeping on the floor anyway.

  Standing, Kerry stretched. “Well, goodnight then.” As she walked by him, she touched her hand to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she gave him a feathery kiss on the lips before turning to head upstairs.

  Feeling in turmoil and tightly wound, Rick didn’t attempt to sleep. He went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Later, he placed a mat by the bay windows and relaxed into a meditation pose. Blanking his mind, he focused on his breath and prayed for clarity.

  * * * *

  Kerry quickly brushed her teeth before slipping into Rick’s bed. The faint scent of laundry soap on the sheets reminded her of home. Not the time she’d spent with Jason, but home from long ago when she’d felt like the center of her parents’ world, when her biggest worry had been who to dance with at cotillion. Boys hadn’t yet sent her into a frenzy, and she and her girlfriends often found other things to talk about besides dating and fashion.

  Kerry snuggled between the soft sheets despite the warmth of the room. She’d noticed a window unit downstairs which had been on low, but its cool breeze only served to push the hot air up the stairs. She snuggled for a few more minutes, wanting the comfort of the linen, but soon sweat broke out on her brow and she realized that something needed to be done about the room’s temperature.

  She got up and walked to the window. Finding it unlocked, she pushed on the pane. Humidity had caused the paint to stick, so she banged her fist against the frame, then tried again. The window slid open, allowing the sound of cicadas to flow in as well as a fresh breeze. The breeze also lifted some of the more unpleasant city smells from the street, but Kerry didn’t mind. She was safe inside this time, not down among the trashcans.

  Then she noticed the scent of something else. It took her a moment to identify it. Incense. Sniffing, she realized the scent seemed stronger near the hall door rather than through the window. Curious, Kerry decided to follow her nose. She stepped into the hall and tried to avoid the worst creaks in the old floor by staying close to the wall.

  When she reached the door of the other bedroom, she saw that the window was open. The tungsten glow from a streetlamp lit a broad rectangle on the floor. A brass incense burner sat on the sill, emitting a tiny stream of smoke. Though the corners were bathed in shadows, Kerry could tell there was no bed in this room. In fact, there was not much, only a straight back chair in the corner and some boxes
that seemed to be filled with books. In the center of the hardwood floor, within the rectangle of light, Rick lay atop a folded blanket with a thin sheet slung over his hip. His chest was bare as were his calves and feet. His skin was dark, as if he spent a lot of time out in the sun, and his muscles were lean and defined—muscles of an athlete rather than a body builder.

  Kerry licked her lips. He was sexy, but he was also sleeping on the floor. This man was kind enough to take her in and she had taken his bed. Kerry leaned against the wall. He looked so natural there on the floor. Should she wake him and insist he take back his bed? Then he would know she’d spied on him, and what if she caught him off guard and he sat up and his blanket slid from his hip? Kerry suspected she’d have a fine view then. She smiled. Perhaps that was not the best course of action. Perhaps she should go back to bed and enjoy its simple luxury for one more night, then in the morning she could insist that he return to his bed. After all, it was his house.

  Kerry realized there was one more kink in her plan. Even in the morning she would have to explain how she knew he was not sleeping on his couch. She’d have to admit she’d looked in on him. And it was his choice not to sleep on the couch, wasn’t it?

  Opting for the chicken’s course at the moment, Kerry crept back to bed. She pulled the sheet over her legs and lay on her back staring at the plaster ceiling. Strange shadows defined the molding, caused by the glow of the streetlamp outside.

  Kerry couldn’t get the picture of Rick’s prone body out of her mind. What was the matter with her? She obviously had more important issues to occupy her mind, such as a job and a home. But perhaps the image of Rick’s body provided her a respite from reality. She’d create a fantasy about the two of them dating like normal people. She’d wear a skimpy designer dress and Italian pumps, and he, in his tux, would escort her to the passenger side of his BMW, holding her hand warm in his, his eyes opening wide when he glimpsed her bare cleavage under her velvet wrap. Then she would be like Cinderella at the ball, only Rick would be a real Prince Charming, holding her a bit too close, making the other women swoon because his eyes were for her alone.

  And at night they would return home together, walking hand in hand in the moonlight, kissing on the steps. The kisses would grow more heated until Rick banged the door open and carried her up the steps. He’d have no care for her dress in his urgency to strip them both naked, and the sex would be wild and sweaty. Kerry pictured Rick’s face as he held himself above her and pumped his throbbing cock into her welcoming body. When she screamed out her pleasure and he followed, jetting his semen into her womb, his face would show ecstasy, but more importantly, it would show love. Love.

  She fell asleep lost in her dream, imagining a look of adoration on his handsome face.

  * * * *

  Kerry woke to the smell of eggs and fresh baked bread. How marvelous, she thought, to be housed with a man who cooks. She opened her eyes. That’s when she realized that Rick was in the room with her, sitting on the sill. A tray of food sat at eye level on the nightstand. Kerry quickly sat up. “What are you doing?”

  “Offering you breakfast.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you could use some pampering.” He wore loose white garments that made her think of Karate Kid.

  “Rick, I don’t need pampering or romance. Didn’t we already establish that? You can have your way with me. You don’t need to play games.”

  Sighing, Rick crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees. “I am not ‘playing games.’ This is not a ploy for sex.”

  “Then what is it? I already have your bed, am eating your food, am causing a rift between you and Evan. You’ve done enough for me and I’ve done nothing for you.”

  Rick stood and looked down at her. He brushed a hair from her forehead, sending a small zing through her body. “It is simply kindness. My return is knowing I have made the world somewhat better in whatever way possible, whether small or large.”

  Kerry hugged her knees, trying to decide whether she felt like crying, knowing that there were people in the world like Rick, or screaming, knowing she was the last person in the world who deserved any kindness. She’d watched a woman die and had done nothing to prevent that death. She had not even reported it; justice could never be served.

  And now she mooched off of a kind stranger and had no prospects to repay him since he wouldn’t take the one thing she could offer. She opted for the simplest feeling—the most basic human need—hunger. She slid closer to the tray and took a sip of tea, herbal again, probably decaffeinated. She imagined it was strong coffee, expresso, a caramel macchiato.

  As she sipped, she thought about that five-dollar cup of coffee. What a frivolous thing to spend five dollars on. She could buy twenty packs of Ramen Pride noodles, or ten boxes of macaroni and cheese. Or half of those items along with the milk or water to prepare them with. She took a bite of sweet mango.

  She didn’t think she’d been spoiled, but she’d always had certain expectations of the life she would lead, the same expectations her parents had had for her. She’d rebelled once, applying to a two-year art college, with dreams of a career in fashion design. But her father had squelched that idea by refusing to pay one penny of the tuition. To him a degree was simply a status symbol, a way to ensure that his daughter knew how to comport herself with the upper echelon of society. And maybe make a contact or two.

  After that, of course, she was to marry someone of whom her parents approved—most importantly someone who could further her father’s career and who had stunning prospects himself. Then she would help with charity functions, host large dinner parties, shop in Beverly Hills and vacation on St. Thomas.

  She shook her head. How had it gone so wrong? She had done as expected. She’d graduated with a liberal arts degree from Stanford, her father’s alma mater. She’d gotten engaged to the man of her parents’ choosing, hosted dinner parties with nary a flaw, shopped in the right boutiques.

  “What are you thinking?” Rick’s voice startled her. “You’re frowning. Is the food not to your liking?”

  “The food is marvelous,” she said, though she hadn’t actually tasted the last several bites of it. “I was just thinking about job hunting.”

  “Hmm. That is something I have never done.” He sat down next to her crossed legs, and sent heat into her toes and calves even though he didn’t touch them.

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No. I had a job, of course—to become enlightened, to help others—but I did not have to approach an employer. I’m not even sure how it is done.”

  “Then what do you do now? You have a BMW and a home and you were wearing a suit at the bar.” She could not reconcile the GQ image with that of a laid-back monk, nor that he’d been at the bar trolling for a date.

  “Evan’s influence yet again. He believes it helps garner women.” He smiled. “That day, before I met you at the bar, I had been to the VCU office to discover what was required to become a student.”

  “What will you study?”

  “Of that I am uncertain. Evan suggested the law. I cannot see myself in that role. I recall the solicitor who found me in Simla. He was a small nervous man, not at all at peace.”

  “Was he Indian?”

  “No, American.”

  “Perhaps his discomfort had more to do with the country than with his profession.” She bit into the warm unleavened bread. “I took the Grand Tour the summer before I entered Stanford. It was wonderful. I stayed in first class hotels and traveled in limos and ate at five star restaurants. But despite all that was familiar, so very much was strange—the food, the accents, the attitudes—and these were European countries. The differences between here and India must be monumental.”

  Rick’s head leaned to one side as he regarded her. “You are right. I had not considered that perspective. But now I have watched Law & Order and some of the other television shows, so I still do not have the best opinion of lawyers.”

  Kerry laughed, m
omentarily at ease. She was aware of how close Rick sat to her and that they sat on a bed. She could easily wrap her arms around his neck and pull them both down to the pillows. What would it be like to just kiss him for a long time with no thought of going any farther and no thought of owing him something?

  “Your family is well-to-do then?”

  The bread dropped from Kerry’s fingers, thoughts of kissing him abruptly replaced by panic. She turned away to stall for time. What should she say? She’d already said too much. Why had she mentioned Stanford? If he was curious he could trace her history with that information. Instead of answering she took a large bite of the bread and chewed.

  “Tell me more about this Grand Tour then.”

  Kerry swallowed, relieved that he’d let her off so easy. “I don’t suppose it’s truly called that anymore, but I like to think of it that way—a trip to learn Continental mores and manners. In two months I visited ten countries—France and the UK, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, etcetera.

  “A fellow classmate took a similar trip, but she was a scholarship student. Her parents couldn’t pay for her trip, so she backpacked, staying in hostels and campgrounds along the way. I saw her during our first semester at Stanford. We compared notes on our trips. It was as if I’d gone to the Moon and she to Mars. We had totally different impressions of the people and the cultures. I think that perhaps she had the better trip.”

  Rick could sit amazingly still, not a fidget in sight. It made Kerry want to bite her nails. “I hiked the Ganges River one summer, not as a traveler or tourist, but as a meditation. I drank only water each day and ate fruit in the evening. I wanted to purify my body and mind before entering the monastery.”