by Dee, Bonnie
“I’m done in the bedroom. You ready in here?”
“Uh, yeah.” Ryan flashed a smile at Camilla before taking hold of the dolly and wheeling it out.
Standing in the center of her old, familiar kitchen which suddenly seemed like a foreign planet, she watched Pat pile boxes onto the other cart. She looked at the red numbers on the stove clock: four fifty-three. One minute ago her world had shifted, a box inside her had broken open and things had spilled out. Now at four fifty-three, everything was different—all because a strange man had kissed her.
An excited, fluttery feeling replaced the dull blankness that had shrouded her for months. She thought of an illustration in one of her mythology books for the story of Pandora’s Box—the little spirit of Hope flying out of the empty chest. Hope fluttered around her now, beating its airy wings. Possibility. An intriguing new future. And another chance to experience things she’d forgotten she was capable of feeling.
Chapter Two
Camilla’s sense of anticipation remained as the two men finished emptying the house before closing the back of the truck and securing it. She followed the Bert and Ernie truck across town to the storage unit and waited while Ryan and Pat stacked the boxes inside. Then she drove to her new place. The apartment was farther from campus and located on a street with a laid-back, bohemian flavor.
When she’d first checked out the building, she’d been intrigued by the assortment of people coming and going. The slightly seedy district took her back to younger days, a lifetime away from the upscale, tree-shrouded neighborhood she and Sam had called home for most of their married life. This rental had seemed like a good place for new beginnings. Now, as she shoehorned her sedan into a cramped parking space, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in choosing a neighborhood that skewed younger.
The Bert and Ernie truck double-parked on the street in front of the building while Camilla stood in the front hall of the apartment, directing the movers. She exchanged no pregnant glances with Ryan. It was as if the kiss had never happened as he focused his energy on getting everything inside quickly before the truck got ticketed.
By the time they’d emptied the truck, Camilla’s apartment was so overcrowded with furniture and boxes she felt as if she was drowning in her possessions. There was only a maze to get from room to room. She’d miscalculated the space everything would take. The thought of delving into even one box tonight was too much to contemplate, and she thought she might get a motel room to escape the mess.
“You have someone coming by to help you with all this?” Ryan’s voice startled her and set her heart pounding. He approached her, clipboard in hand, as he surveyed the disaster of her living room.
“A couple of friends are supposed to come by tomorrow to help unpack and organize. I didn’t think I’d feel like it by the end of today.”
“Good call. No one ever does. But you might need to find a few things. I could help with that.” Spoken in a husky tone, the offer sounded suggestive.
The silence after he finished speaking dragged on a few seconds too long before Camilla replied. “Don’t you have another job to get to after this?”
“Nope. This is it for the day. After we return the truck, I’m free. I could pick up some carryout and bring it over.”
There were plenty of reasons to refuse his offer: he was a stranger, she wasn’t ready to date anyone, he was too young, she was too reserved. But the memory of that blazing hot kiss in her kitchen trumped all logic and made all those very good reasons moot.
She licked her lips. “I guess that would be all right. You don’t already have plans for tonight?”
“Not one. Do you prefer pizza, Chinese food or something else?”
Tilting her head to look up into his eyes made her dizzy, or maybe it was because she forgot to breathe. “Don’t worry about food. I’ll order in and have it waiting here when you get back.
“Sounds perfect.” His dimples made him seem even more boyish. How young was he anyway? The age of most of her students no doubt. Early twenties. But she swallowed that guilty, Mrs. Robinson feeling and returned his smile.
He gave her the clipboard.
She signed the paperwork and wrote a check
“I’ll be back soon.” Ryan suddenly bent and gave her a peck on the lips then whispered, “Don’t start second guessing your decision, okay?”
Her lips tingled and she pressed her fingers to them after he’d walked out. She’d just made a date with the moving guy. How had that happened? On this day of massive change and upheaval it was one more stir of the pot, which she didn’t need. But maybe the distraction would be good for her.
She took a shower and shaved her legs carefully, stubble swirling down the drain as she prepared for the evening’s possibilities. In her new bedroom, she searched for clothes to wear. A glance at the bare mattress on the bed made her flush as she pictured an erotic tangle of limbs. She should find her sheets and make it up. Even if nothing sexual happened between her and Ryan, she had to sleep there at some point.
As she poked through boxes and put away a few things, waves of anticipation and dread washed through her. She wanted Ryan to come and she wished she’d never met him. Why couldn’t he have been some dull, normal moving guy like Pat, who only wanted to get through the job and be on his way? What had triggered the chemistry between them? Seeing him sparked a fizzy feeling through her body like an electric current. She craved him with an elemental desire beyond her control. He must desire her, too, or he wouldn’t be coming here tonight.
The doorbell rang, an unfamiliar tone in an unfamiliar room. Camilla paid the delivery girl for the food and put it in the kitchen. After that she wandered from room to room carrying the painting her mother-in-law had given her, trying to find where it fit. The frame was too ornate and the still life too formal for any wall in this apartment. At last she realized she’d never really liked the painting, and no one would be hurt if she didn’t hang it. She should’ve put the thing in the storage unit or sold it.
The doorbell rang again and her fingers clenched the gilt frame. She leaned the painting against the wall and went to answer the door, pulse racing.
Ryan stood in the hallway, a bottle of wine in one hand. He wore a T-shirt with the logo of a band she didn’t know and a pair of jeans that made his long legs appear even longer. His hair was damp and the herbal scent of soap and shampoo wafted toward her. He offered her the bottle with a smile. “I don’t really know wines so I hope this is okay.”
Camilla matched his self-effacing manner. “I ordered Chinese. I hope you like that.”
She stepped aside to let him into the apartment and another whiff of clean male tickled her nose as he passed. Chills flashed through her as if she had a low-grade fever. The hair on her neck prickled, her body responding on a primal level to his proximity. She felt alive and hungry in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d only had a few cups of coffee and a handful of grapes all day.
She closed the door as Ryan turned to hand her the bottle of wine. Trapped between the door and the solid wall of his body, Camilla looked up into his eyes. She lost her breath. He was so close, so potently male, and so there in her new apartment. When he smiled, she thought her bones would liquefy and she’d melt into a puddle on the floor.
“Hi.” He barely whispered but the word vibrated into her flesh. His gaze was on her mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation. Ryan reached for her waist with his free hand and inclined his head. Camilla lifted her face, rising on her toes and meeting him halfway. Their mouths pressed together in a kiss as soft and gentle as a spring rain, and her body unfurled like dry winter grass brought back to green freshness. Her hands slipped up his chest to grasp his shoulders, hard and warm beneath her palms.
Ryan put his other arm around her back and pulled her against him. The wine bottle bumped her rear and his erection pressed into her groin. The solid length woke an answering thickness and tightening in the lips of her pussy. Moisture gathered betwe
en her legs. In less than a minute and with only a few slow, tender kisses, he’d aroused her beyond reasoning. She ached, yearning and opening in response.
He released her mouth and moved his lips along her jaw, down her neck. Her skin twitched at the small tickling kisses. She could barely keep from jerking away and giggling, and when his stomach growled, she laughed. “You must be starving. You certainly burned off enough calories today.”
“I wouldn’t mind burning off some more before we eat.” He nuzzled the soft spot above her collarbone before straightening and looking into her eyes with a question in his.
Camilla imagined him lifting her off her feet, pressing her up against the door and fucking her right there, no hesitation and no holds barred. She could have that if she wanted it and the knowledge thrilled her. But she wasn’t quite ready for that wild abandon. Not yet, anyway.
“The food’s getting cold,” she pointed out.
He released her, his hands leaving heat on her back and the wine bottle bumping her hip as he pulled away.
She accepted the bottle from him. “I don’t think I can find my goblets, only water glasses.”
“I’m used to plastic cups so it doesn’t matter to me.” He followed her into the kitchen and opened the wine while she unwrapped dishes from newspaper and rinsed them.
Camilla smiled and sipped from the glass Ryan offered her. Her husband, the wine snob, would’ve turned up his nose at the idea of drinking this cheap vintage out of a plain glass, but she had to admit to kind of liking the sweet, fruity flavor. It reminded her of the Ripple she and her girlfriends had drunk back in her undergrad days. It was all they could afford and gave them a buzz which was all that mattered back then. Simpler times. Simpler pleasures.
The dining table was loaded with boxes so, after they’d filled plates from the various cartons, she led Ryan into the living room. Her couch looked different here, too formal perhaps or too much a part of her old life. Sitting on it beside her gentleman caller, she thought she’d be too nervous to eat, but one forkful of the shrimp fried rice hit her empty stomach and she began shoveling it in. Ryan devoured his with equal gusto, which relieved her self consciousness about wolfing her food.
“This is great. Thanks.”
“The least I could do. You guys worked so hard today. I don’t know how you do it every day.”
“I don’t plan to keep this job forever. I’m taking classes again and this fits around my schedule and pays okay, too.” He slurped in a bite of Thai noodles, which left his lips glistening. Camilla stared his lower lip, plump and shiny and so biteable.
“Uh, what are you studying?”
“Stagecraft. Lights, scenery, audio, all the backstage stuff.”
“That sounds really interesting. What a great field.”
“Glad someone thinks so. My dad wanted me to be a plumber so he could add and Son to the side of the truck. And my girlfriend left when she realized I’d never be a financial whiz. I’d almost finished a bachelor’s in business, but after she moved out, I took time off school. I worked at different jobs while I figured out what I really wanted to do.”
Camilla finished her wine, a fine, warm glow spreading through her. “Do you want to work in touring shows or local venues? Or do you plan to head for Broadway?”
“Anything in the field really. I’ve done some lighting work in a local theater and worked soundboard for a band, but I’m sure it’ll be a long time before I can quit my day job and make a career out of it.”
“It’s admirable you didn’t settle for someone else’s expectations. Some of us spend a large portion of our life unaware we didn’t choose a career path, merely stumbled onto it.” Camilla paused, wondering how she could segue into finding out his age without being completely blunt about it. Eventually she simply asked, “How old are you, Ryan?”
He paused with an egg roll halfway to his mouth. “Are we going there now? Are you really going to worry about age?”
“Not worried, just curious.”
“I’m twenty-five. And you’re what? In your mid-thirties? Not that big a difference.”
“Forty-one and trust me, it is a big difference. I’ve lived with it. My husband was almost twenty years older than me.”
He gestured with his egg roll. “We’re just eating a meal together, spending some time. Relax. Don’t think too hard.”
He was right, of course. She was over-thinking, but she hadn’t had much practice with light affairs and casual sex. Not since her early twenties and rarely even then.
Camilla took refilled her wine glass and changed the subject.
As the food slowly disappeared, the cartons emptying one by one, their conversation ranged over politics, life in the city and plans for the future. When the dialogue wandered toward the meaning of life, she remembered long nights of conversation with friends back in her youth. It seemed she hadn’t really talked about philosophical subjects for years—not with the people she knew now, and not even when Sam was dying. Ryan’s idealism and energy and questioning about life were refreshing, invigorating.
“I can’t tell you how many of my freshmen students say they don’t understand how what a bunch of dead people wrote speaks to their lives.” Camilla set her empty plate on the floor. “But most literary classics are as timely now as when they were written. It’s not as if humans have come up with new questions to ponder. Everything boils down to ‘why am I here?’ and ‘what should I do with my time on this earth?’”
“Carpe diem. Isn’t there some poem about that?” He finished his wine and put his glass on the end table.
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, to-morrow will be dying. Robert Herrick.” She leaned against the back of the couch, her eyes half closed, a pleasant buzz from the wine making her drowsy.
“Wise man.” Ryan reached over and traced her ear with his fingertip, a light touch around the curve to the lobe, only that, but it sent wildfire roaring through her.
Camilla opened her eyes and turned toward him. He was so damn beautiful. She loved his thick, sandy hair and the way it fell over his forehead. Back when she’d been dating, stiffly gelled spikes had been in style. Running a hand through hair as crisp as cornflakes wasn’t a turn-on. She imagined Ryan’s hair would feel soft and silken between her fingers.
He slid his hand down the bare length of her arm from shoulder to wrist, making her glad she’d put on a tank top rather than a long sleeved shirt. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as if touched by a cool breeze. When his large, warm hand curved around hers, she spread her fingers apart so his fingers could lace with hers.
They stayed that way while time stretched as taut as a rubber band close to snapping, the air between them vibrating with possibilities. Camilla pictured them as if from a distance, two people sitting side by side in a quiet living room holding hands.
She felt the heat of Ryan’s body close to hers, heard the soft intake of his breath, and at the same time, watched from above as the woman leaned toward the man and kissed him.
Chapter Three
He tasted of sweet wine and tangy spices. His lips were soft, lips yielding under the pressure of her mouth. He cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady as he kissed her harder. She welcomed his tongue teasing delicately between her lips. How strange the way they coiled around one another in a sinuous dance. Like a key in a lock, it opened her and made her want more. So long…it had been so long since she was kissed this way, hungrily, desperately, as if she were life giving oxygen. She’d forgotten kisses could be more than a light peck on the lips.
Ryan pulled her closer. She swooned against him and slid her arms around his back. His muscles were so hard and his flesh so hot the insides of her arms were singed by the contact. His strength flowed into her, wrapping around her, supporting her, making her want to cry with the pleasure of molding herself to him. It seemed like forever since she’d been held this way, overwhelmed by an embrace. Heavenly.
He cradled her face in his palm while his other hand roamed down her back. He paused at her tailbone just above the swell of her ass and she wanted him to go further, to grab her butt and knead. But he halted there politely, giving her time to get used to his touch.
They kissed for what felt like hours, tender nibbles followed by a hungry mashing together of lips and tongue, deep, desperate, powerful. When Ryan finally abandoned her mouth to kiss her cheek, her jaw, her neck, Camilla’s lips felt swollen and tender. She’d forgotten the simple pleasure of making out for long stretches of time. Her body was both utterly relaxed and tense with need.
Ryan slid his hand beneath her shirt and cupped her breast. Her nipple pebbled hard, eager for his touch, but Camilla was nervous. Fondling her breasts was the next step. From kissing to touching—then sex, which she craved and feared equally. This near stranger would see her naked. He would be as intimate with her body as another human being could be, and, again, it had been so long since she’d played that sexual game.
Ryan stopped nuzzling her shoulder to look at her. “Okay?”
She bit her lip. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”
“Of course. Your husband was ill.”
“Even before that. We weren’t physically close any more. Not often anyway.” She hesitated, embarrassed to admit such a private detail about her married life. She couldn’t quite pinpoint when the passion had gone, but it was well before Sam got sick.
Ryan nodded but remained silent. She was glad of that. He returned to sliding his lips over the curve of her shoulder then placed a necklace of kisses along the neckline of her shirt. His thumb rubbed her nipple, teasing it to hardness through her bra cup. Camilla pushed into his hand, wanting her clothes to evaporate so she could truly experience his touch.
As if gauging her readiness, he grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. He bent to kiss her cleavage. The sight of his tawny hair and the slice of his profile against her breast was nearly as exciting as the sensation of his mouth sucking her nipple through the sheer material of her bra.
