I suggest that we go to the little salad bar café around the corner. Lunch is pleasant. He tells me more about kayaking and boating in the northern California. He has done some white-water rafting, too. Then he asks how things are going at Voices.
“I was promoted. I’m the new editor of the Weekly Events section. Things were a little bumpy for a while but everything is fine now,” I lie. Susie came back after two days, but I am worried about how long Tim is going to stay. He may look like a hippie—he wears jeans most of the time and ties his shoulder-length auburn hair back during office hours—but he is a very astute editor. At this point Voices would fall apart without him. Now some of Dale’s advertisers are unhappy about page after page of politics and at least three have threatened to cancel their ads.
Ned laughs. “Oh, that’s right—you’re Little Mary Sunshine. I’d forgotten that.”
“I think of it as loyalty to the company that’s paying for my rent and groceries.”
Back outside our office I thank him for lunch. Then he says: “I’ll call you, Julia.”
I smile at Ned. “Okay.”
Maybe if I go out with Ned, I will begin to recover and move on with my life. But Ned isn’t Austen and I know he never will be. Maybe he is like a bandage I can put on my wounded self while I heal. Maybe. And I tell myself: I will heal in time and all this horrible pain will disappear. In time.
Chapter Nineteen
The perpetually ringing phone on my desk is jangling once again as I walk into my office on Friday morning. The notice about submitting all events in writing has slowed the stream of phone calls, but I still receive some about events around the City. Annoyed, I answer it.
“Hi, baby. How are you?”
My heart stops. I can’t breathe. His honey voice. It takes me a moment to answer. “I’m fine.”
“I’m going to be arriving at the airport at 6:20 tonight. Pick me up, will you?”
I am still barely breathing. My mind has gone on ‘hold’. Then I ask: “Where are you coming from?”
“I’m on a direct flight from Dallas.”
“Okay.”
“Julia, you sound strange…is something wrong?”
How do I answer this? Yes, something is wrong, but talking about it at 9 o’clock in the morning on a long distance telephone call is not a good idea.
“No. I’ll pick you up at 6:20 in the Arrivals area.”
“I’ve missed you, Julia. It’s going to be so good to be back, baby. Why don’t you wear that polka dot dress of yours?” I can hear the grin in his voice when he mentions the polka dot dress. High school sex is what he has in mind, maybe even in the airport parking lot.
“Maybe. I’ll see you this evening,” I answer, knowing my voice sounds cool, distant. “Bye.”
I hang up the phone and sink into my chair. Part of me wants to jump up and scream, laughing: ‘Yes, Yes, Yes. I’ll wear the polka dot dress’. Another cooler part says: ‘Watch out. He didn’t bother to call. If he did this once, he could do it again. He’ll hurt you again.’ It is the third part that wins: ‘Wait and see what he has to say.’ But the fact that it has been almost two weeks with no phone call from him sticks in my mind like a sharp needle. It hurts terribly. He could have called from Dallas or wherever he was, but he didn’t. I don’t think anything can explain that away.
Thankfully Fridays are slow—well, slightly slower than other days. I function on automatic for most of the morning, my mind in a whirl. I decide not to wear the polka dot high school sex dress, but I am wearing my short black skirt and pink blouse today. Not a good idea to pick him up in this. The yellow sundress with a sweater—that’s the answer. It should remind both of us of that happy trip to Healdsburg. It is so much easier to worry about clothes than to think about what he might say this evening.
I haven’t been parked in the Arrivals area for long when Austen opens the car door, shoves his suitcase in the back seat, then slides in the front seat beside me. His kiss is urgent, demanding. Every inch of my body melts at his touch. I run my fingers into his hair and kiss him back with the same urgency. I want him. I want to be with him forever. Nothing else matters.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” he says, as we pull apart.
Tears begin to trickle down my face as I say: “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Julia, what’s wrong?” He wipes the tears from my cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. What is it?”
My emotional dam has burst. I am gasping: “I didn’t know where you were. You haven’t called. I didn’t know what happened—“
“I’ve been back home in Texas. Didn’t John tell you that?”
“No.” I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together, not very successfully. I am still breathing in gasps and gulps.
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. John didn’t call me.”
“Oh shit. John was supposed to call you and tell you I had to go back to Texas for a week or two.”
I take another deep breath and wipe the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry to be so emotional. I was worried. You just disappeared. I didn’t know where you went. I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”
He shakes his head. “I’m here, Julia. Everything is going to be okay. I’m not going to disappear.” He kisses me on my forehead. “Here, give me the key and I’ll drive us home.”
On the way to Marin he tells me his Uncle Will had been hospitalized with a heart attack. The doctor had described it as ‘mild’. Maybe he had a premonition of what was to come, though, when he asked Austen to come back home to visit him for a few days. Three days after Austen arrived, his uncle passed away.
“Uncle Will was the one who took you hunting—right?”
“Yep. He never had kids himself, so I ended up being the substitute. He told me he was the wild kid of the family when he was young, but he did okay by himself: ended up with a sizeable ranch. He never got along much with my daddy. When I came back after the army he told me to get out of town and go find out how far I could go with music. He said I’d never know how good—or bad—I was if I stayed there. Best advice I ever had.”
The traffic is its usual Friday evening mess and he concentrates on threading our way through the crowded streets across the city to the Bridge as he tells me what happened.
“When he called I knew I had to go. I couldn’t wait. Uncle Will had never asked me for anything in my life. So John took me to the airport. After the funeral there were things to sort out with the estate. A lot of legal stuff. Matt is going to handle things for now.”
His mood changes and he reaches over and runs his hand up my leg, a grin on his face. “No polka dot dress, huh?”
“I wasn’t in the mood for high school sex. Maybe no sex at all. Austen, I was so worried about you.”
He smiles. “Nothing to worry about now, Julia. I’m here and I guess I’ll have to change your mind about sex.”
When we finally get to Sausalito, Austen drives by the dry cleaners—it’s closed—then stops at the grocery store for a few things. When he pulls up in front of the house, John’s car is not in the driveway where he usually parks it.
“John’s not here. I want to find out why he didn’t call you. It’s not like him. John’s as reliable as they come.”
Inside, Austen takes me by the hand and heads right for his bedroom. He turns on the shower in the bathroom then peels off his jacket and tosses it into a chair, pulls his boots off and shoves them aside.
“I have to put some stuff in the refrigerator. Be right back, baby.”
When he comes back he pulls me into his arms and he kisses me deeply, hungrily on my mouth. I run my hands up to his soft, thick hair and hold him closer to me. I flick my tongue inside his mouth. He responds, his tongue seeking mine. I want him desperately.
His hands run down my back and squeeze me against him. I push my hips against him and I hear him whisper: “I am going to love you all night.
No rest for you. Turn around now, beautiful girl. I want to take that dress off now.”
With his hands on my shoulders, he turns me around. He peels the yellow sweater off and tosses it on the back of the chair. Then he pulls down the zipper at the back of my dress. Only the thin straps hold the dress on me, then he slides the straps down my arms, first one side, then the other, kissing my shoulders as he does it. My dress falls to the bedroom floor and I am naked except for my white silk panties and a white strapless bra.
He unhooks the bra and drops it to the floor. His hands come around me and cup my breasts, his thumbs caressing my already hardening nipples. I arch my back and push my breasts into his hands and my fanny into his groin. As he pulls me back against his body, he twists my nipples and then squeezes them. It is almost painful, but arouses me even more. His lips graze my shoulder as he slides one of his hands down between my legs. I know I am wet like honey and feel two of his fingers slip into me. I almost come.
“Oh god, Austen,” I cry out as I quiver inside and my hips stiffen around his fingers. He pulls them out of me.
“No, babygirl, don’t come yet. I want you on top. I want to watch you. I want to see your beautiful face. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
On the bed with him sitting up he holds my hips and guides me onto his erection. Gradually he eases into me deeper and deeper. I gasp as I settle down a bit more and a bit more until I have taken all of him inside me.
“I’ve missed you,” I sigh. He kisses my lips gently then lies back on the bed and his erection goes even deeper into me. His breathing is shallow and so is mine. Once again, it is pleasure verging on pain. He feels so big and is so deep inside me. He thrusts his pelvis up, going even deeper into me, once, twice. I feel it in every inch of my body and, gasping, I climax almost immediately.
“Oh god, Austen. Yes. Ohh...yes...ohh…yes”
I am beginning to weaken. He reaches out and holds my hands as both of us move faster and faster.
“More babygirl. More.”
We are moving up and down, almost frantically. Then I close my eyes and let the sensation take over. His pelvis rises and falls meeting mine, matching each other’s movements. It feels so good now. So good. When I open my eyes, I see his eyes are on my face, his breathing heavy.
I feel a quivering beginning inside me again. I am panting; my breathing is in gasps as he pushes his erection up, deep into me again and again, faster. I feel another orgasm coming, racing through my body.
“Ohh. Ohh. Ohh.” I sob; my head falls forward as I begin to lose all control.
“Oh, babygirl.” His voice is hoarse, thick.
He thrusts his pelvis up and his hard erection into me. I climax around him, my entire body shuddering, as he comes inside me. I fall forward onto his chest, my pulse pounding. I can hear his heart thumping as his arms tighten around me.
“You are so beautiful, Julia, and your body is so responsive.”
“Only because of you, Austen. Only you. I love the way your hands feel on my body. I love what you do to me. You are the one who makes it so good.” I whisper in his ear. “I have missed you so much.”
We roll away from each other, lying side by side, silently looking at each other, as our breathing becomes slower, more regular. He runs his hand along my side and up my hip in a gentle, loving caress.
“You’ve lost some weight.”
“I’ve been distracted, I guess.” I don’t want to talk about it, so I smile and say: “Austen, the shower is still running.”
He grins. “Maybe we should use it. I think the water has warmed up by now.”
“Let me wash you this time.”
I take his hand and lead him to the shower and we both step inside it.
“Turn around. Just stand there. Don’t move.”
I rub the English cucumber soap onto the washcloth and the fresh fragrance fills the room. He turns his back to me as the warm water pours over our bodies. I start washing at his neck. Gently I circle the washcloth down his back, going round and round. I lather one arm, then the other and then under his arms and down his sides. I kiss his beautiful skin down the center of his back to his tight fanny. My hand in the washcloth caresses him around one cheek, then the other. I slide it between his legs, circling around and around, back and forth. His breathing is more rapid. Mine is, too.
“Wait. I’m not done.” I whisper.
I kneel down and wash his legs, then his feet. “Turn around now.”
His erection is firm and right in front of me. I lean forward and run my tongue around the head, then take it into my mouth. It flexes as it responds to my tongue and grows harder. I hear the sharp intake of his breath.
“Wait. Be still.” My voice is soft, as I stand up and put more soap on the washcloth.
The water floods down his chest, it pours onto my breasts. My nipples are hard; his erection is growing harder. The ache between my legs is becoming more intense. Then I start washing him again from his neck down his body, kissing him as I go.
“I love the way your skin feels,” I whisper. “I love every inch of your body. Austen, I was so afraid you were gone forever.”
He takes my face in his hands. “I’m here, Julia. I’m not going to leave you.” He kisses my lips tenderly, then takes me by the hand, turns off the shower and leads me into the bedroom and onto the bed.
Our arms wrap around each other and I feel his bare skin against mine—oh god, this is the way it was meant to be. His lips caress my neck, down to my breasts, his tongue circling around and around one nipple. I feel his erection get harder—he is so long, so hard. I reach down and begin to stroke him. His fingers circle and squeeze my other nipple. Instantly I feel it deep down between my legs. My hips begin to move and rotate slowly. His hands are like fire on my body.
His voice is raw with desire: “Oh, babygirl…”
His hand slides down even further through my pubic hair and his sensitive fingers begin to circle me down there. Around and around. Oh my god, it feels better than ever. My hips move in rhythm to his hand. My body is desperate for him again.
“Please Austen.” I beg. “I want you now. Don’t make me wait.”
He spreads my legs wider and eases into me. I gasp. He fills me entirely. His face is above mine and he smiles that honey smile.
“Oh, yes,” I sigh and close my eyes. “Yes.”
Then he eases back, pauses and begins to move in and out, slowly at first, then gradually faster and harder. I can feel him deep inside me, filling me. My hips match his thrust for thrust. His mouth covers mine as he kisses me intensely, our tongues swirling around each other. My pulse speeds up. Relentlessly, his erection drives into me again and again. Then I lose all sense of anything around us—just us, moving as if we have become one.
I am panting, my breathing is shallow. My pulse is racing. His breath is faster, ragged, as he thrusts into me over and over. I feel an urgency building deep inside. I tilt my hips upward and he goes further into me again and again. Yes. Yes. Again. Again.
“Ohh. Ohh. Ohh.” I gasp. I feel him deep inside and once again I can feel my orgasm ready to explode. He thrusts into me harder.
“Come for me, babygirl.”
All it takes is his honey voice whispering to me and I come, my body tightening inside around him as I climax. I feel like I am shattering , splintering. Release…oh yes…it feels so good…oh yes…oh yes. One more powerful thrust into me and his body arches and he comes. “Julia,” he gasps and he sinks down, his body limp and heavy on top of me.
His head is beside mine. I can hear his rapid breathing begin to slow. He lifts himself up on his elbows, his body pressing down onto me, and he kisses me lightly on the lips. My legs, my body are utterly soft. My heartbeat begins to slow down. I reach up to his face and run my fingers along his cheek, then kiss him softly on his cheek.
“I am so glad you are back,” I whisper to him.
“Me, too, beautiful Julia.”
Our bodies sated
for now, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty
Morning in Sausalito and the sun is glittering off the Bay. In the distance I can see sailboats with brilliant red and blue colored spinnakers—there must be a race going on. At the café down the hill we find John and Emma, just being served.
“Why didn’t you call Julia?” Austen asks John as we join them. He sounds puzzled, not angry.
“What do you mean? I called Monday and left a message with the receptionist.” John looks at me, explaining. “Your receptionist was screening calls. She said you were too busy and she took a message. I told her that Austen had to go back to Texas and even left my phone number with her so you could call me. When I didn’t hear from you I figured you got the message.”
“Oh no. That was a temp. I can’t believe she actually said that I was ‘too busy’. I asked her to screen some specific calls about Weekly Events but not…” I shake my head in disbelief. “Well, I guess that explains it. She must have lost the message or maybe didn’t even write it down. She was sort of ditsy and that Monday was a very, very crazy day.”
So all the hideous, agonizing pain of the last two weeks was for nothing—a stupid missed message. I really could have come over to Sausalito to find out from John where he was. I didn’t have to be afraid of being treated like Mirabelle.
Over brunch Austen and John talk about the Rolling Stone photo session and interview. I turn their conversation off. I am so hungry I eat every bite of the avocado and cheese omelet. And all the hash browns. And every last crumb of the English muffin with orange marmalade. Everything is good again.
* * *
The memo is on our desks on Monday morning. Effective immediately, Tim is Acting Managing Editor of San Francisco Voices. Dan will be working closely with him until a new Editor joins the staff. The memo is signed by Mr. Mogul, Publisher. There is no mention of Eric. So now Eric has joined David as a mysteriously disappearing editor. Maybe someone ought to write an investigative piece about them being purged. It is almost like those Communist leaders in Moscow who get erased from photographs.
Playing for Julia Page 13
