I had piqued his interest, but if I was going to craft an ongoing working relationship with this guy, I needed to learn about his name. However, I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask about it in our first phone conversation.
“We can certainly talk about that, but I think we can work something out. When and where can we meet to go over the details? Are you based in Atlanta? “
I was hoping he was somewhere outside Savannah. I loved my adopted city, but hardly anything but shotgun weddings happened in the South in late summer and those were not really my type of clients. Besides, with the ongoing drought, August seemed unending. His phone number had a 206 area code, which Google said was in the Seattle area, but that didn’t make much sense. Area codes had gone the way of the floppy disk drive. Most people just had 10-digit mobile numbers that they kept when they moved home bases.
“I’m in Athens, actually. Athens, Georgia. You know, not Greece.”
God, was this guy an idiot? Or maybe he thought I was…
As a UGA grad, I had to let him know. “I know Athens. I went to school there.”
“Cool. I’m from Seattle, went to U-Dub, but I like the East Coast vibe.”
A flower child? I resisted the urge to ask him his age. He sounded young and adorable, but also old-soul with a sense of humor. I probably read too much into his tone and his syntax, but I was more than curious. His photo, which could have been taken anytime, accompanied his byline. I liked his longer, wavy hair and sideways smile; he looked about my age.
I offered to drive to him. “I can come with …..you. I mean – I can come TO you. Would that work? I’m in Savannah—
“Yeah, you said that,” he reminded me.
“Right. Do you want to meet me in Macon? That’s about halfway. Do you have a car?” I suggested.
“You ever been on a zipline, Ma’am?”
I had, once, in my neighbor’s backyard. It went about a hundred feet, from a tree on a hill into the woods behind our houses. Did that count? And did he just call me ‘Ma’am’?
“Kinda. Once,” I admitted.
“There’s this place near the mountains that’s supposed to be awesome. My editor wants me to review it, so you could come with me. The paper pays.”
He used the word ‘awesome’. I was doubting his professionalism, but his writing was insightful and he did have a regular column in a major newspaper so I trusted my instinct and went for it.
“I think it might be hard to talk in that context, but I’m game. Can we have coffee afterwards?”
“Yeah, coffee, sure. Every day, twice a day. Regular. Coffee’s a great drug. Don’t understand de-caff, do you?”
A drug?
“Ok, er, Arm. Do you want to check your schedule and get back to me?”
“I’m free tomorrow. You?”
Tomorrow I had a potential client meeting for a Christmas wedding.
“How about Friday? I’ll drive to Athens and pick you up at the Cups Coffee Café on Barnett Shoals Road. Ok? You know where that is?”
“Great. I’ll make the reservation for a noon zip. Takes about two hours, I hear. Coffee after, sounds cool. Wear comfortable, fitted clothes and closed shoes, no sandals. They’ll fall off.” Arm was enthusiastic AND helpful. What falls off, the clothes or the shoes? Or both? I was definitely interested in this guy, but getting ahead of myself.
“Got it. How far from Athens is the zipline?” I asked.
“About an hour, maybe 45 minutes. North and west of here.”
“Okay. See you Friday. I’ll be in a light-green Prius. You have my number now. Text me if anything changes, okay, uh… Arm?”
“Yeah. Tell me your name again?”
“Marnie.”
“Ok, cool. I’m into unusual names.”
No kidding. I said good-bye and ended the call.
Friday was just as hot and steamy as Wednesday, and it was only 7 am. I drove the Prius to Athens to meet Arm for the zipline adventure, wearing rolled-up denim shorts, a red golf shirt and boat shoes. Respectable but not puritanical. I would have to figure out what to do with my purse, but no fanny-pack; god how I hate those things…
Arm was leaning against the brick building, absorbed in his smartphone, when I pulled to the curb. I watched him for a minute before he looked up and recognized my car. His long hair was loosely pulled back; in the sunlight I noticed a red tint. An odd phrase flashed into my head: never bedded a redhead.
His long legs brought him and his messenger bag to my car in three steps. I hoped he didn’t smell like patchouli or incense; that would kill the buzz I got from his high cheekbones and full lips. He pulled on the door handle as I unlocked it, so of course it didn’t open. We fiddled with the order of things before he finally put both hands up in a surrender pose and I locked, then unlocked the doors. He got in, laughing.
“I hate when that happens,” we both said. Laughter and simultaneous conversation were a good beginning to the day.
I turned to offer my hand and introduced myself. He took mine in his large warm hand and placed his other on top.
“Nice to put a pretty face to the name, Marnie.” Smooth. And working.
He continued. “Ok, I have directions here on my phone. Take a left at the next light and we’ll get back on the highway, headed into the mountains.” He smiled with near-perfect teeth, dropped my hand, and pointed the way. I obeyed.
As we drove in comfortable silence, I searched for an opening to ask about his name. Finally I just awkwardly broached the subject.
“Hey, I was wondering. About your name. It’s –“
“Most people wonder but don’t actually ask.” I hoped I didn’t piss him off but I persisted.
“Do you mind? I’m a very curious person, with an unusual name myself, as you pointed out when we last talked.”
“It’s complicated. Well, not really. It’s more… evolutionary.”
“You mean scientific, and not biblical, right?”
“No, I mean it evolved over time. Even though my mom was born in the 1970s, she was a big I Love Lucy fan, so she named me Ricardo. My dad didn’t care. He wasn’t around much anyway.”
“So how do you get from Ricardo, to Arm? I don’t get it.”
“At some point when I was a baby, it occurred to her that our last name, Gleason, didn’t quite match Ricardo, and she was afraid that kids would make fun of my minority-sounding first name. We lived in a predominantly white neighborhood where people cared about that shit. At least they did back then.”
I wanted to know how old he was.
“How long ago was that?” I asked innocently.
“About 30 years ago. She didn’t want to call me “Rick” because that rhymed with another disparaging minority nickname, and Dick was not an option, so she just called me ‘R’.”
He said his mother declared him her perfect child, with soft dark auburn ringlets that she couldn’t bear to cut.
“For my second or third birthday, she took me to Atlanta for a weekend of Mommy and Son time. We spent an enlightening morning at the botanical gardens, and then a quiet afternoon at the High Museum investigating sculpture. As the story goes, a museum docent remarked that I was beautiful or something like that, and declared that I should be in a museum painting. Mama started calling me ‘R the Museum Boy’, which was later shortened to just ‘RM’, and then just ‘Arm’”.
Quite a story. I had to inquire further.
“For a perfect score, Arm, you would have been a baseball player. Or the football team’s quarterback?”
“Neither. I played piano and rode my bike. Kept a journal. Majored in Communications in college, then got a job with a paper in Olympia. Have you ever been to the Northwest?”
“I went to a wedding in Seattle once; a sorority friend married a ski instructor. Gorgeous vistas. I love how they built the roads to show the landscape to its best advantage, and how the tallest, snow-covered peaks just take your breath away as you drive around a bend and there’s Mt. Hood, right in
front of you.”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty place. I skied, hiked, parasailed, did all that stuff and wrote about it in my journal. I submitted an essay to a Seattle-based magazine and they picked it up, so… I’ve been pretty much a travel writer ever since. My name makes no sense at all in this context, but it’s unusual; people remember it.”
By this time we had arrived at the zipline property. I parked and we walked toward the kiosk. Arm spoke to Quinn the attendant who shook his hand and directed us to a wooden lean-to where assorted safety equipment was hanging on pegs. The other attendant/zipline guide fitted us both with harnesses and helmets. The one-piece supports required straps between each leg, chest suspenders, and a strap around the waist. On women, I’m sure they simply looked odd; on my new friend Arm, it was downright pornographic. The leg harness cupped his balls in the most provocative way, pushing everything together, and, well out – his junk was sticking out of his jeans, like a codpiece. I couldn’t look without blushing. Of course I looked frequently, and before we even made it to the first platform, my panties were damp.
“You guys go ahead and climb to the top of the decking, up there, where my partner will hook up your harnesses. I’ll be up shortly, “ Quinn directed us.
I mounted the steps, Arm close behind me. Given the differences in our height, I’m sure my ass was in his face for at least two whole minutes, and I didn’t really mind. We reached the top of the stairs and met the other guide, who checked our harnesses: “Yep. Good and tight. Either of you ever done a zip before?”
Arm answered for both of us, “Yeah. I have. My friend Marnie is pretty much a zip virgin.” I elbow-poked him in the ribs. By this time Quinn had arrived. He said he’d been watching us, and asked if we wanted to tandem. I had an idea, but didn’t really know what that meant. Arm smiled as he stepped forward, handed his carabiner-clip to Quinn, and then bent his knees so he was in a sitting position, supported by the harness safely clipped to the zipline. He reached for my support line, clipped it on the cable in front of his, and had me sit on his lap, my back to his chest. He put his arms around my belly and jumped off the platform.
“Lean back and just relax. Point your toes forward, Marnie,” Arm instructed. We were one unit, airborne, legs swinging, sailing above the treetops.
When we approached the next platform, Arm told me to just plant my feet on the wood and he’d bring us in together. The trip was short but exhilarating and I was looking forward to the next line. We traveled tandem all the way down the mountain, through valleys, platform-to-platform, across streams, under a cloudless blue-ish white, late summer Southern sky. The guides encouraged us to shout as we took off, and Arm let out a perfect ear-splitting Tarzan yell at the beginning of the second zip. After that, we snuggled and laughed our way to the last zipline platform.
“Wanna go on your own for the last one, Marni?”
I did, and I didn’t. I loved the feel of his warm strong body so close to mine, but I enjoyed adventure and wanted to stay close to him.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll go solo. You first?”
“Ok, but remember to keep one hand above and behind your head on the line so you don’t accidentally put the brakes on. Keep your feet straight out. Pull down on the cable to stop as you come to the end. Got it?” I nodded. Quinn hooked him in and off he went, sailing through the valley. As soon as his feet hit the far platform, it was my turn. I took off. So fast! I briefly appreciated the tapestry of green foliage below me, and inhaled the scent of an unknown flower; maybe honeysuckle. My heart was beating wildly by the time I realized I was supposed to slow myself down. The guide rolled a breaking block out onto the line to slow me down, and I arrived safely, with Arm on the edge to catch me. We tumbled together into the tree surrounding the deck. His face was so close to mine, I wanted to lean in and kiss him. He beat me to it and planted a quick kiss on my lips. He was impossibly adorable.
“Close one, Marnie. You almost crashed,” he advised as he stood. He took my hand and helped me up.
“Safe now. Thanks.” I answered, grinning. I could still feel his warm soft lips on mine as we held hands on the way back to the lean-to. I tugged at the straps on my hips and shoulders but my golf shirt nearly came off. It was comical, the way I was bending forward and back, struggling. Arm was watching as he stepped toward me. He expertly unhooked the straps, then tenderly pulled my shirt over my bra and silently stared at me as he pulled off his own harness. The way he was undressing, so slow and deliberate… so arousing.
After we shed our equipment, Quinn handed us each a bottle of water. “So – what did you two think of our setup here?” he asked.
I cleared my throat, but Arm answered for both of us. “Cool. It’s beautiful up there. Thanks very much.” He turned to me, “Marnie? Did you like it?”
“Nice ride. Wow!” Neither caught on that I was referring to my companion’s lap, but it didn’t matter. We said goodbye, and Arm took my hand as we started on our way back to the car. We passed a small group of eight or nine teenagers approaching the harnessing lean-to. They were chatting and laughing, ready for adventure.
About halfway down the hill toward the parking lot, Arm pulled me into the woods. Pinned against a tree, I had nowhere to go. I didn’t want to leave anyway. With his right thumb, he stroked my cheek.
“A little smudge there, Marni.” He nodded his head. “There, I got it for you.” He had that crooked smirk-smile again. I stared into his smoky eyes and said nothing, letting the heat between us build. Placing my hands on his hips, hooking my thumbs and index fingers into his belt loops, I gained the leverage to pull him closer to me. He didn’t resist as he fell toward me, catching himself with one hand against the tree trunk.
“Nice balance,” I remarked.
“I have many talents, my new friend,” he admitted, as he leaned in again and kissed me sweetly. I responded, and he matched my hunger. I stopped to catch my breath, placing one hand on his ass, looking behind his back and around us.
“Think there are any comfy spots around here?” I wondered aloud.
“Some soft grass over by that little creek, maybe?” he answered, as he grabbed my hand and we started running through the woods like nymphs.
Stopping at the edge of the stream, I sat on a flat rock. “So lovely here, dontcha think?”
Arm nodded in agreement as he straddled my legs and bent down for another kiss. I reached between his legs and cupped his bottom. Then I ran my hands down his thighs, and up to his zipper. My rubbing and his firm erection excited both of us even more. With one hand I undid his zipper.
“Mmmm… Commando. Nice,” I mumbled, as I took him into my mouth. His knees buckled a bit at my touch. I sucked and pulled until he nearly lost his balance. I didn’t want him to fall over, and besides, the rock was too hard and uncomfortable for any meaningful copulation. Pulling back, I nodded to the ground and raised my eyebrows for confirmation.
“Think we could spread out over there?”
“No doubt,” he agreed with a warm smile.
He stepped away from the rock and found a grassy spot where the sun dappled through the tall pine and hickory trees. Sitting on the ground, I could smell warm earth and again, that flower. I thought I recognized it.
“Honeysuckle?” I asked.
“Er… Yeah. Sure. Okay. Huh?”
“The flower. There’s a bush over there, smells so good.” I pulled him back to earth and he landed next to me. I moved on top.
He tried to switch positions. “Oh, right. Ha ha… AND… there’s a bush over here, I wanna dive into,” he said through giggles, as he pushed my shorts down my ass with one hand.
I smiled and we resumed slow, deep, wet kissing with me on top. I wasn’t wearing any panties, either, so it was simple business for him to slide himself inside my dripping pussy. He closed his eyes and set his head on the grass with the most delicious expression on his face. I rocked forward and back, rubbing my ass against the top of his thighs. When I squeezed my cheeks together, I c
ould feel his balls and the slight pressure, in turn, stimulated my anus. That was new and different and I loved it.
Arm was rocking in rhythm with me, hands on my hips, alternately leaning up to kiss each breast. Our eyes were locked on each other. As I leaned forward to rub my clit against his pubic bone, his mouth found my left breast and he sucked my nipple. I gulped loudly, but I was in heaven, with the sun on my back and this sexy guy filling me up and suckling my needy breasts.
Just at the moment of climax, Arm’s eyes opened wider than any I’d ever seen. At first I thought it was just his way of cumming, but then I heard a voice.
“Woo-hoo! What’s going on down there?” I leaned back, exposing our naked connection, to see another tandem couple ziplining overhead, and waving hello.
###
Author's Note
Thank you for reading Discovering Desires If you enjoyed this book I hope you will leave a review at Amazon.com.
About Harley Callahan
A lover of Tuscan red wine, grilled cheese with tomato soup, herbal soaps, and passion flowers, Harley Callahan abandoned her law practice to dream the dreams of more adventurous women than herself.
Amazon Edition, Licensing Notes
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Discovering Desires:Erotic Adventures Page 5
