Walk on Water

by Garner, Josephine

  “Rachel?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  My mouth was as dry as my panties were wet.

  “I-I just popped-over,” I stammered. “I-I hope it’s okay.”

  He fairly glowed, and it was a struggle to focus on anything besides my own primal desires. Reading me, an amused a smile begin to fill Luke’s face, pleasure replacing surprise.

  “Sure,” he said, grinning now. “Come in.”

  I did and he closed the door.

  “I hope I-I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” I said, my voice sounding almost squeaky.

  “No,” he replied. “Just working-out.”

  With the towel around his neck he mopped his forehead. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him naked before, and even in a jacket and tie my own mother had been impressed by Luke’s upper body. Trying to collect myself I turned away from him to set my handbag down on the small hall table, which took all of about a second and so I was right back to facing him. He rolled towards me, his dark eyes melting me.

  “Oh…working out, huh?” I tried sounding cool and sophisticated. “Can I watch?”

  “Later maybe,” he answered, pulling me down into his lap.

  And I was in heaven, or Eden, or some other mystical, magical place. The wonderful pungent scent of Luke’s fresh exertion filled my nostrils as his demanding tongue filled my mouth. I moved to straddle him in the wheelchair so that I was facing him, my legs draped over the wheels. His bare skin was warm and slick to my fingers, deliciously salty to my taste. While he fondled my breasts, I nipped at his throat with my teeth, tenderly venturing down to his own sensitive naked nipples, taking each hardened tip between my lips. He groaned softly and crushed me against him. At last resting my head against his shoulder, I sighed and listened to him breathing deeply.

  “So pop-overs are okay?” I asked timidly.

  “Planning breakfast already?” replied Luke.

  “No,” I started. “I mean—oh you know what I mean.”

  He smiled knowingly. I blushed.

  “But you are staying for breakfast, right?” he asked, holding me tighter.

  “Do you want me to?” I asked back.

  “What do you think?” he kissed me again.

  “Yes,” I answered him, when we parted to catch our breaths.

  A little while later the music was off, and I was in Luke’s bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing one of his bathrobes, waiting for him to take a shower.

  “You don’t have to,” I had told him when he had excused himself to get cleaned-up after our little meet-and-greet by the front door. “I like the smell of fresh sweat.”

  Plus I just didn’t want to wait. To prove the point I had snuggled in even closer, loudly inhaling a deep breath of his bare right shoulder, before nibbling at it.

  “Your peculiar tastes notwithstanding,” he had replied. “I think I could use a little soap and water.”

  Now I heard the shower shut-off. I sighed happily. We would soon be making more sweat—together.

  When Robert and I were married sometimes we had taken showers together, usually leading to wet soapy intercourse, which had been fun until afterwards when still being wet I would get cold, even in the summertime. Luke used a special chair in his shower. Maybe I could sit on his lap. I wondered if we would ever try it. I wondered if he would ever try to have intercourse. When I touched it, I could feel Luke’s penis responding, moving a little against my hand, like it could harden, and I would crave it. But Luke would always move my hand away, bringing it to some other place north of the border.

  Luke emerged from the bathroom, wearing as usual only a towel across his lap. I beamed at him as he pushed himself to the bed, a mixture of love, joy, gratitude, and hardcore lust electrifying my being. He was beautiful. Parking the chair, he removed the towel from across his lap and placed his limp naked feet on the floor one at a time, preparing to transfer. Before he could, however, impulsively I crawled over and kissed him ardently, then moved back on the bed, pulling the covers with me, welcoming him.

  Once he was settled in the bed, the sheet pulled up to his waist, I snuggled my own naked body up against his. He now smelled of Lever body wash and in a little while I would smell of it too, and Luke would smell of Juniper Breeze.

  “Do you really like the Juniper Breeze?” I asked recalling his admission at lunch. “I mean it’s not fancy or expensive. I like it because it’s kind of natural.”

  “Juniper breeze,” Luke replied in an ad-man’s voice. “What the well-dressed environmentalist wears.”

  “Too boring?” I pressed my most nagging doubt.

  “You never were one to go for what’s popular,” he observed.

  “That’s not totally true,” I sighed, caressing his chest. “I went for you. But you’re right, usually, I stay in my lane.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. As long as you get where you wanna go.”

  And my lane had brought me here. I ought to pinch myself or ask Luke to do it.

  “I read in People Magazine or Prevention, one of those, that men really like the scent of vanilla,” I said. “I could wear that sometime.”

  “And what do women like?” asked Luke.

  “I don’t know. The article didn’t say.” Then I confessed, “I always liked Calvin Klein’s Obsession for men.”

  “Do they still make that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said with good authority.

  But I was too embarrassed to tell him how I had spent more than twenty years—some of them married—stopping at department store fragrance counters just to be sure.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I reminded Luke.

  He turned on his side now, repositioning his legs, and resting on his elbow to gaze down at me, his eyes heavy with arousal. Really—must he also have such luscious lashes too?

  “You could smell like the Pine-Sol lady as far as I’m concerned,” he said gently slipping a finger into my swelling cavern.

  I gasped. His smile became luminous.

  “Does that answer your question?” he asked.

  “What question?” I replied breathlessly while he stroked my clit, and I squeezed his fingers with my burning walls.

  Soon I was being carried out to sea in currents of pleasure that seemed to drown me. I struggled to swim to shore, to hold back, but like Poseidon, Luke ruled the waves. He overtook my body, claiming it with his hands, his mouth, his breath. At last there was no choice but to surrender, to drown in the rapture he gave me, flooding his face with my own hot surge.

  When I was resting on the beach once more, wrapped in Luke’s arms, my body trembling only a little, I remembered again how desperately I wanted to give him this feeling too. How I wanted to know his whole body. And it was whole in every way that mattered. It was only that he kept me away from a part of it. I yearned for us to try, to go out to sea together, to walk on the warm water and sink into the divine waves. When it was possible, why should we never have that experience again? Because it would be different? What if different was perhaps even more?

  Tentatively I moved my fingers across the imaginary borderline, barely touching the thick crinkly hair between Luke’s legs. His breathing changed and he caught my hand, bringing it back to his chest and holding it there.

  “Luke—”

  “It’s no good, Rachel.”

  “But you can feel it,” I said, my head still resting on his shoulder. “I know you can.”

  “Not the way you think. Not really.”

  “You said manual stimulation could—”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s you, Luke. It’s still you.”

  Sighing, he let me go, pulling away a little. I sat up, folding my arms across my bare breasts. I had gone too far, reminding him of his limitations and ruining the bliss we had just shared. Luke’s eyes were closed. His flaccid penis lay between his flaccid legs. I had asked for too much again. Why must I always be so greedy? I trembled once more but not for good
reasons, and I searched frantically through my professional brain files for the right words to say, to back us out of this situation before there was irreparable harm.

  “I thought I was satisfying you,” Luke said.

  See. Harm. I had screwed up.

  “You do,” I told him urgently. “Oh Luke, you do. But I want to satisfy you too.”

  It’s not you, it’s me I nearly said, and I would have meant it. Luke looked at me.

  “You do, Rachel,” he said. “Why won’t you believe me? Why won’t you ever believe me?”

  I shivered suddenly. Luke reached for me pulling me close. His bare arms were warm. I nestled against him gratefully.

  “I believe you, Luke,” I pleaded quietly. “I do. I just want us not to hold back anything that’s all. I can’t treat your body like half of it isn’t here. I don’t want to. I want to know all of you.”

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  “Is that so wrong?” I begged to know.

  “I should have known you’d do this to me,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “Never mind.” He breathed deeply. “Go get me some water.”

  I rose up to meet his eyes.

  “Go,” he said slapping me on the rump. “We don’t have all night.”

  In a flash I returned to the bed with a small glass of water and watched Luke pop one of those little blue pills into his mouth, which as it turns out he kept in the nightstand drawer next to the bed. He had obviously taken them before, probably with Stephanie-the-teacher. So why would he be so reluctant with me? In any case, for a lot men, the pills really did work. I had done my research. I handed Luke the glass of water and waited attentively to take it back when he was done.

  “Relax, Rachel,” he advised with a lop-sided grin. “It’s not like pumping a tire—although they do have something that works like that too. With the pills you have to wait a while.”

  “Oh,” I replied embarrassed. “I-I know. Forty-five minutes to an hour.”

  Luke arched a brow quizzically.

  “Know the generic name too?” he asked as he set the empty glass down on the nightstand.

  Sildenafil citrate. But I was quiet. Luke smiled.

  “I told you Rachel, I like it that you do your homework.”

  Crawling back into bed, I snuggled up against him again.

  “So I’m assuming,” added Luke. “You also know this could be a flop…so to speak.”

  “It can’t be,” I replied, slipping my arm around his waist and pressing my cheek against his chest.

  “And you’ll have to be on top,” Luke informed me. “You okay with that?”

  “Sure,” I answered easily.

  “You didn’t used to be.”

  “I changed too.”

  “Okay,” Luke laughed a little.

  But he should see how much I had changed. Moving to kneel before him on the bed, I bent down and softly brought my lips to his penis, gently running my tongue around the circumcised crown, before taking first the tip and then the shaft into my mouth. I tasted him, savored him, felt his manhood move against my tongue, felt it grow firmer. When I met Luke’s eyes again they were languid deep brown pools. Maybe he had felt it. Perhaps he had only seen it. But no matter how he had liked it.

  “What happened to my good girl?” Luke asked in a voice husky now.

  Smiling at him I gently spread his legs apart so that I could sit between them. Bending my knees, I placed my feet on either side of his hips and scooted up to him so that our genitals were touching. Putting my arms around his neck I pressed myself against him as he stroked my back. I reached down between us and began slowly caressing his growing erection, pressing its hardening head against my swollen, wet, waiting labia.

  “In a hurry?” Luke breathed into my ear.

  Yes. Twenty years was a very long time.

  The next morning Luke was up early as usual. His clock radio read 5:27 a.m. and he was already up and in the bathroom, showering, shaving, and all the other things he needed to do to get ready for work. I should be doing the same, or at least getting dressed so I could go home and get ready for work myself. Maybe someday I could be audacious enough to bring an overnight bag when I was going to spend the night. Now the clock read 5:30. Rolling out of bed I gathered my clothes. My toothbrush was in Luke’s bathroom and he expected his privacy, so my teeth would have to wait.

  By the time I joined him in the kitchen he had prepared a cup of coffee for me and turned on National Public Radio.

  “Scrambled eggs, okay?” he asked.

  I could surely get used to this.

  “Sounds great,” I happily replied.

  “Why don’t you make us some toast?” he suggested.

  Might I have a million mornings like this, I marveled, with Luke scrambling eggs for us, dressed in a pair of suit slacks and an undershirt? How many years was a million mornings? Was that like forever? The toast popped up and buttering the two slices I placed one on each of our plates with the eggs. Then I brought the plates to the table.

  “There’s cranberry juice in the fridge,” said Luke.

  “You want some?” I asked.

  “No, I’m good. Thought you might.”

  “No, coffee’s fine.”

  I bowed my head and offered a silent quick grace, and when I looked up as usual Luke was waiting respectfully. I smiled at him appreciatively. Now we were lovers completely. Last night I had explored his whole body, his whole body.

  We mostly ate our breakfast without conversation, letting the radio voices fill the space. I liked that about him too, that silence could be comfortable between us, that if I went wow or something about some news item, he would generally have a good idea about what I was thinking and maybe even agree. When we both finished eating I carried the plates and forks to the dishwasher.

  “Luke,” I said with my back to him.

  “Yeah, babe?” he answered.

  I loved his voice so much, the way he called me babe. It felt familiar, comfortable.

  “So the pop-over,” I just had to ask. “It’s okay with you?”

  When Luke didn’t answer right away I became a little fearful but I turned to face him anyway. I’d understand if he said no. I wouldn’t push him about it. But it was different between us, wasn’t it? What he had admitted to Mommy. What we had done last night. Yet we hadn’t made it exclusive—not officially. Brian was history, but that didn’t mean Stephanie was. And there might even be others. I wasn’t the only woman in the world who could appreciate Luke’s most magnificent assets, no matter what our mothers believed.

  “It’s totally okay,” Luke said.

  Relieved, I smiled. In the words of Lucas, that must mean something.

  “Does it bother you that I can’t?” he asked.

  “Can’t what?” I asked back before the meaning dawned on me a millisecond later.

  “Pop over?” Luke smiled crookedly.

  The seventeen steps. They were still there. A great concrete barrier between him and my home. He shifted his weight in the chair.

  “I wish you could see my place,” I said.

  “And meet Tony-the-Tiger and Agatha,” he added.

  According to the radio announcer, Stemmons Freeway was backed up due to an accident involving a tractor-trailer.

  “Your mom has a point, Rachel,” Luke reminded me. “A lot of the time, it won’t be easy with me.”

  It was seven o’clock. I’d have to hurry and I might still be late, but I had learned a long time ago not to schedule appointments before nine-thirty. Dallas traffic could be unpredictable for everybody.

  “Okay,” I conceded going to him. “A point. Maybe.” Climbing into his lap I put my arms around his neck. “But my darling, you’ve got game.”

  Luke smiled.

  “You sure you’re not just lowering the rim?” he asked.

  “I’m sure you don’t need me to,” I replied.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When the microwave fin
ally beeped, Corrine gave a cheer, a sarcastic one of course, since she was highly annoyed with me for taking so long to heat my glazed chicken with rice and vegetables.

  “I told you to stop putting them in the freezer,” she complained. “It takes too long that way.”

  “The directions say ‘keep frozen’, Corrine,” was my rebuttal.

  “Learn to live dangerously, Rae. You’ll have more fun.”

  Or so she believed, I thought. And maybe—just maybe—I believed it too.

  Corrine and I were having our Lean Cuisine dinners together in her office. With the holiday season in full gear, we were in the middle of a calorie extravaganza. It seemed like every day there was some kind of decadent treat in the break-room, not to mention the homemade edible individual gifts that kept appearing on our desks from a host of well-meaning Santas. Added to all of that were the holiday parties, impromptu get-togethers, Christmas programs and pageants, and shopping, all of which left very little time for the gym. All in all a lot of waist bands were going to be in big trouble come January. At least having Lean Cuisine meals whenever you could was one heroic attempt to stave off disaster.

  But I had never been happier. I had always been the type to sing along with the ubiquitous carols of the season even in public places, but these days I was singing loud enough to garner curious glances from passersby. I supposed there could be such a thing as having too much Christmas spirit. Oh well. Being in love could be a wonderful thing, especially at Christmastime.

  My evolving relationship with Luke (I still didn’t know what to call myself and it was too awkward to ask him) meant that I got to invite him to some of my social functions and he invited me to some of his. Yes, I would carry out my secret reconnaissance to make sure the venues were accessible for him first, but once we arrived at an event, Luke would handle himself flawlessly despite his four-foot perspective. He was so handsome and charming that a number of my friends and co-workers actually confessed envy, and that had never happened before with my dates. It was kind of nice going from Oh you came by yourself, to He’s nice, to Oh my God, girl, he’s cute! Twenty years later, and after everything he’d been through, Lucas Sterling could still elevate your social status by his mere association. Whatever I was to him, it was absolutely fantastic being with him.