Eleven

by Karen Rodgers

  We didn’t say a word as we drove back to my place. I looked at the clock on his dash and it read 11:11. Inner smile.

  He pulled up to the curb. This was it. Oh, God. Just when I thought he was going to reach over to kiss me, he reached behind the seat and grabbed our coats. He jumped out and put his leather jacket on as he walked around the front of his truck to my door. He handed my coat to me after opening my door. I slipped into the coat, took his hand, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  His hand felt so very good wrapped around mine. It was cold outside. Our breath quickly turned into smoky fog as it escaped our mouths. I fumbled in my purse with my free hand and was able to find my keys. Follow the rules. Follow the rules. Follow the rules.

  “Would you like to come in and have another glass of wine?” I nervously asked.

  “Ummm, sure,” he answered.

  I turned toward the door and as I placed the key in the lock, I felt him close behind me. His fingers were pulling my long hair away from the side of my neck. I bent my neck in response, exposing it to his touch. He traced the border of my ear and then stroked the side of my neck with the back side of his fingers as his other arm slipped around my waist from behind, pulling me even closer.

  He leaned in closer. I could feel the heat of his breath as he whispered, “You look good and you smell good. I have a feeling you’re gonna taste good.”

  Thank God he was holding me. I felt my knees almost give way. My heart was beating out of my chest and I feared I might hyperventilate. I was thankful not to be facing him because I am quite sure my eyes rolled back into my head—my head that was spinning around and around.

  I turned the key in the lock and opened the door. He loosened his grip on me and we stepped inside. We stood there face to face, with only the rays of the streetlight softly shining in through the sheer curtains.

  He leaned over and with one swift movement, picked me up into his arms. It was the first time any man had literally swept me off my feet. I placed one arm around his neck and with my free hand I stroked the smooth skin on the side of his face while looking into his eyes. He carried me over to the couch and sat down with me on his lap. He reached up and tenderly placed his hands on both sides of my face.

  “My beautiful girl,” he sweetly said as he tilted his head and moved closer.

  Our lips touched and parted. The feel of his mouth on mine was no less than divine. Our tongues danced against one another. We took turns nibbling, sucking—delving into each other.

  I had never felt anything like this. The attraction and magnetism was intoxicating. It left me breathless and panting all at once.

  Our lips separated for only a brief moment as he said, “Good God, girl! We kiss the same.”

  He was right. It was like a dance; rhythmic and melodic, in perfect unison. We were hungry for each other and our lips were like ripe fruit for the taking. It was as if we had been starved and were reaping all the sustenance we could take, while we could take it.

  We explored the form and contour of each other’s bodies with our hands. I moved my palms over the rippling hardness of his rounded shoulders and biceps then slipped a hand inside his button down shirt to caress his muscular chest through the fabric of his white cotton undershirt.

  He was bolder with his touch. Cradled in his arms, his large hand moved over my body massaging me through my satiny shirt and briefly stopping over my left breast which he lightly caressed and teased.

  He moved lower and parted my legs with his right arm—reaching under, rubbing and kneading the left cheek of my ass. His arm coaxed my knee to drape over his shoulder. Involuntarily, I felt the primal urge to undulate against his thick, brawny forearm in rhythm with his massaging hand.

  We were lost completely in the throes of passionate desire. At that moment, we were the only beings in the universe. It was as if we had become a single entity and were breathing through each other. Still fully clothed, we were moaning, sighing, and rubbing against one another.

  Then reality whispered in my ear, “the rules, the rules, the rules!”

  I broke contact. My head was spinning. I attempted to catch my breath. I swung my leg around and slipped off his lap.

  Noticeably excited, he cleared his throat. He reached for his jacket to drape over his lap and said, “I guess that’s my cue that it’s time for me to go home.”

  “Umm, yeah, I think that would be best,” I agreed, while I stood and reached over to turn on the floor lamp in the corner. I had to steady myself against the wall to keep my balance.

  He stood up, modestly draping the jacket in front of him while he walked to the door.

  “I apologize if I went too far. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel this way,” he explained. “I’m not usually like this. I’m really sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

  He looked at me with desire still smoldering in his eyes.

  I answered, “No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It’s not like me to get so out of control, either.”

  We looked at each other and laughed.

  He leaned over and kissed me tenderly and sweetly as he said, “I had a really nice time tonight. You know, we got something pretty special happening here, right?”

  Looking up at him, I nodded my head. My face was glowing from all of the emotion and adrenaline flooding my system.

  “I’ll try to slow down. I don’t want to do anything to mess this up. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen. No need to rush things,” he explained.

  It seemed as though he was preaching to himself out loud and not just talking to me. Both of us had been surprised and flustered with the overwhelming power of our mutual attraction.

  “Would you mind terribly if I gave you a call tomorrow evening?” he asked.

  “I would like that—very much. Be careful driving home.” I said.

  “Goodnight, sweet thang,” he said in his seductive drawl as he planted one last kiss on my lips. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

  After watching him walk to his truck and drive away, I washed my face and slipped into my gown. Still trembling on the inside, I reached over to turn off the lamp on my nightstand and curled up under the warmth of my down cover.

  I whispered a prayer of thanks, “Thank you, God, thank you so much for letting us find each other.”

  I knew my life would never be the same.

  Chapter 11

  Two Lips and Tulips

  I woke up happy; reminiscing of the previous night’s events. I lazily rolled over and picked up my phone. The remainder of the morning was spent calling the girls to let them know in spite of tremendous temptation, I had indeed kept my britches on!

  The rest of my day was spent running errands and taking care of the chores that I rarely had time or energy for during the work week. I was glad to have something to keep me busy, yet thoughts of him never strayed very far from my mind.

  Oh, that kiss! I had never felt anything like it before. I couldn’t wait to kiss him again. The chemistry and synchronicity between us had been more electrifying than I could have imagined. I found myself smiling all day—in the produce section, at the gas pump, driving down the street. Everything made my thoughts return to him—and that kiss.

  I loved the way he made me feel so beautiful and womanly. His touch had brought my body back to life. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice again on the other end of the line. But I knew that mellow, deep sound would only make me ache for him more.

  Just as I was finishing the task of putting my groceries away, the phone rang. Ahhh—there was his voice again, caressing my ear.

  There was a familiarity between us that surpassed knowing someone for only 24 hours. Maybe it was because of our similar backgrounds, where we had come from, or perhaps the fact that I had known who he was since childhood. There was an inexplicable depth of comfort just knowing he had come into my life.

  We enjoyed a little over an hour of chatting and small talk before we made plans to see each o
ther again.

  At the end of his call, he said, “I have a busy week ahead of me. I have to go to up North to take care of some business. I should be back Friday night, but I’ll be tired. Can I pick you up on Saturday morning, say about 10:00? I’d like to take you out to my ranch. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great!” I replied.

  A wave of excitement surged through me when he casually added, “Pack for an overnight stay. Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of room. I’ll have the master bedroom ready for you and I’ll stay in the guest room.”

  He truly was a gentleman and I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

  In jest I replied, “That’s very sweet of you, Mister. By the way, do you have a lock on your master bedroom door?”

  He laughed, “Yes, ma’am, I do!” He cleared his throat and continued, “Last night, you kinda surprised me. Uh, I mean—well, you know; I was surprised with how well we get along. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I promise, I’m going to do my best to control myself with you, but that’s gonna be a pretty tall order, you know.”

  I knew! However, I couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. I so enjoyed flirting with him and making him a bit uncomfortable.

  I purred in a low, seductive tone, “You know, I might make this a little easier for you and help you relieve some tension. What are you wearing?”

  I heard his low “Mmmmm” on the other end of the line and he quickly replied, “Don’t do that to me, Sister. I’ll hop in my truck and knock your door down in about ten minute’s time.”

  We both laughed and I replied, “Okay, Mister. Have a good week and I’ll look forward to the weekend.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it, too. I’ll give you call in the middle of the week,” he paused, then continued in a teasing, but serious manner, “On second thought, I better not do that. I might have to resort to asking you what you’re wearing. I don’t think we need to go there. Not yet.”

  We said goodnight.

  He did give in to the temptation of calling me, but he didn’t wait until the middle of the week. We talked through every lunch hour and every night.

  Although we were miles apart, we spent each evening together on the telephone. We would go about our routine chores and tasks while holding the phone to our ear. It wasn’t unusual for five or six hours to go by while we conversed. Many nights, we would end our day saying goodnight to each other in bed; over the phone.

  We learned so much about each other that week. Being apart had given us the opportunity just to talk without having to worry about keeping our hands off each other. By the end of the week, I felt as if I had known him my entire life and that somehow, he had always been a part of me. In a way, it set him apart from anyone else I had ever been involved with. Something about him was different; in a very good way.

  The week went by excruciatingly slow. At the end of the week, I met my friends for happy hour to receive my necessary weekly reinforcement to stick to the rules.

  I tried not to talk about him too much. I didn’t want to rub it into any of my unattached friends’ faces. I understood what it felt like to not have anyone special in my life when everyone else around me was happily involved. Besides, I found it difficult to adequately put into words what I was experiencing. I gave them just enough information for them to be assured that I liked him; I really liked him—a lot!

  One of my friends exclaimed, “Oh, girl! You’re in trouble!”

  Another friend who had known me longer corrected her by saying, “She’s not the one in trouble—he is! I’ve seen that look in her eyes before!”

  Then one of my more comical friends added, “Anybody got some duct tape? I think she’s gonna need a chastity belt!”

  God, I loved my girlfriends. They knew me so well and loved me in spite of it!

  When I got home, he had left a message on my answering machine. He sounded tired, but happy to be home.

  My whole being warmed when I heard his words flowing from the speaker, “Hey, pretty lady. It’s me. I just got home. It’s about 10:30. I’m gonna hit the shower then go to bed. I’ve missed you, Sister—missed everything about you. I’ll see you about 10:00 tomorrow morning.” He chuckled as he said, “Do me a favor. Wear something boring.”

  I complied with his request. I wore a simple, fitted white t-shirt tucked into my most well-worn pair of Cruel Girl jeans. They were cinched with a brown Fossil belt that had a blingy rhinestone and silver buckle, and of course, my brown Corral boots. I pulled my long brown curls back into a high ponytail and put on my silver concho earrings.

  He arrived at 10:00 o’clock, right on the spot. I heard a knock at the door just as I was carrying my overnight bag from the bedroom into the living room.

  Opening the door, I invited him inside. I practically jumped at him to give him a big hug around his neck. I had really missed the guy.

  He grinned as he removed his Ray Ban Aviators; looked me up and down and said, “Damn, girl! I thought I told you to wear something boring.”

  I smirked at his comment, put my hands on my hips and replied, “Well I did the best I could.”

  “I think you could probably manage to make a gunny sack look good,” he said shaking his head.

  “C’mon, let’s blow this town, Mister!” I winked at him and bent over to grab the handle of my bag.

  He beat me to it and said, “Allow me. Let’s go, sugar britches!”

  I started out the door and he gave my behind a stinging swat. I turned around to see him flashing a rather wicked grin. This was going to be a fun weekend!

  I had found a worthy opponent in regard to his style of banter. He was playful and flirtatious, without being crude.

  Once again, he opened the door for me. I looked in the back seat and realized he had already been to the grocery store to pick up supplies for the weekend. As he got into the driver’s seat, he reached into the floorboard behind my seat.

  “These reminded me of you.” He expressed as he offered me a beautiful bouquet of tulips.

  He totally caught me off guard as I gushed, “Oh, my! They’re beautiful. Thank you, really; thank you so much.”

  “I was gonna get you roses, but the lady at the flower shop said something about tulips that I liked. She said they symbolized a lover’s heart that’s on fire with passion. That’s why they made me think of you. Besides, they didn’t have any leopard print flowers,” he said as he winked at me.

  He leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the lips and said, “Enough of that business. If I ever get to kissin’ you, I’ll have a hard time stopping.”

  So we headed out of town. His ranch was about an hour’s drive from the city. During the drive, he reminisced about growing up on the ranch. He was touched when I told him about the memories I had of his family from when I was a young girl. He remembered most of my family as well. From what we could surmise, our families had known each other all the way back to our great-grandparents.

  In fact, we decided it might be best not to climb too far up our family tree. We were astonished how many commonalities we shared. We were afraid if we went too far back, we might discover we were actually related.

  There was solace in knowing who and where we had come from. It made me wonder what our ancestors would’ve thought about us ending up together. We would’ve had their blessing, no doubt.

  I kept the tulips in my lap the entire way. Occasionally, I would lift them up to breathe in their sweet, delicate fragrance. They were such a lovely gesture from such a wonderful man. He was melting my heart and already spoiling me for any other man.

  I took great pleasure in watching him as he drove. While he looked off into the distance of the road ahead, it gave me the chance to study him. Everything about him tugged at me. Even his profile was splendid. The morning sun shining in through the window created a sort of haze around him. The hair of his moustache looked so soft. The way it curved down around the corners of his soft, full lips was so attractive. I loved the movement of his mouth
as he spoke and the cadence of his words.

  The sun’s bright reflection danced off his shades. He wasn’t wearing his hat that day. His hair was wavy and silky to the touch. The short tendrils around the nape of his neck were precious and manly all at the same time. Every feature endeared him to me more and more.

  He was 47 and at the peak of his manliness. Life had seasoned him to perfection. There was no longer a trace of the arrogance or unsurety men in their twenties embody. He was past the thirty-something crisis phase in which most of his male counterparts suffer tumultuous need for reassurance of their manhood.

  He had been molded by his experiences. This was a man who had suffered loss and heartbreak. I could see glimpses of it in his eyes. And I knew when someone goes through what he had been through, they were less likely to hurt another—they know what that kind of pain feels like and are less likely to inflict it on someone else. He had been well tempered by his past.