by Tara Oakes
“I had a visit from your ex today. It’s becoming a pattern. One I’d like to come to an end.” I figured the only safety from admitting how my body is on fire for his, is to change the subject to one that would instantly cool the flames.
I search for any sign of reaction from him, but he is masterfully hiding them. I do notice his fingers blanching themselves around the steering wheel.
“Oh?” He comments.
That’s all I get, an Oh? I press on, “Yup. Her usual bitterness and rantings. But... she did say one thing that peaked my interest.”
Dom’s jaw twitches, muscle flexing under stress from clenching too hard, “And what might that be?”
I cross my legs to offer a little visual torture,“Don’t you know already? After all, don’t you have your ways?”
Dom removes his hand from the steering wheel, methodically placing it in between my crossed thighs. His movement is rough, deliberate.
“It would be a lot easier for you to just tell me, although part of me hopes you don’t. It’ll be a lot more fun for me to make you.”
I uncross my legs, parting my flesh to remove any obstacle. Pursing my fingers to my pouted mouth, I pinch them for emphasis, “My lips are sealed.”
Dom’s hand moves over my skin, under the thin material of my skirt. His fingers blindly reach out, slipping themselves into the moisture between my thighs, harshly pushing at the cotton covering his target.
He hisses, eyes struggling to stay opened and on the road before us, fingers delving in the depths, “No... actually they’re not.”
The car abruptly swerves from the road and into a large darkened parking lot. The hour is late enough for spaces to be emptied, the office building vacant. The car jolts from the sudden gear shift into park, with Dom’s seat belt already removed. He now works on mine, frustration building as the mechanism doesn’t fully cooperate at first. When it finally obeys, Dom wastes no time lifting me up and pulling me over the gear shift to rest on him, my knees balancing themselves on the outer perimeter of his seat, waiting....
There is very little room to spare, if any, as we somehow make use of every millimeter of space. I lift my hips up, providing a touch more clearance to Dom as his hands are busy at work freeing himself from his pants, his knuckles raking against my tender flesh hovering closely above. His mouth claims mine, pulling at my lips to sate his demanding kisses.
“I can promise you that you’ll tell me what she said before I let you come.” His voice is different. There is a cool undertone swirling beneath his words, adding to the depth of them. My heart skips a beat at the veiled threat, excitement growing in my body. Dom was patient and tender with me when I needed him to be, but his demeanor now has a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde aspect to it. He’s shown me that when need be, he can turn on a dime, into a stubborn, willful and commanding partner. And damn me, I think I like it. Damn him even more... I think he knows.
His throbbing mass springs free from its material prison and slaps itself against me while crashing between my folds during the movement. The action is sudden, sharp, like a rubber band snapping. His stiffened handle lays still now, resting between us. I lower myself to touch it in some way, make contact with it, hoping that it will somehow magically slide into place, but it doesn’t.
My actions prove futile as the building friction on our two sensitive areas does nothing but deepen my need. I whimper as I am unsuccessful yet again at guiding him in.
Dom breaks our kiss, using his teeth to grab at my lower lip... erotically holding it hostage before speaking, “You sure you don’t want to tell me?”
His movement is quick, orchestrated, as he emphasizes his last punctuated word by dropping my tightly held hips down, encasing his pointed flesh within. I exhale, relieved that the tortuous anticipation is over. At least I thought it was. Just as quickly as he pulled me down, he manages to pull me up, with the void left behind from his width and length closing itself.
I feel robbed, like the thing most precious to me has just been stolen, ripped from my grasp. A swirl of emotions bundle themselves within me... the need to get that stolen object back, anger that it was taken, and fury that it has such a strong effect on me. Need is a powerful thing. Very few things in this world are truly needed. Air, water, food... as sure as I need those things to survive, I need him.
I strain myself against his clutches, anxiously attempting to reclaim him but it is of little effect, His grip is strong. We are having a war of wills, our bodies playing out the conflict of whose is stronger. I don’t have a chance. My thighs begin to quiver from the stress of my position, awkwardly contorted over him. There is only one way to end this. Someone has to win.
I would have imagined the moment where one resigns themselves to submit mentally, physically, hell even emotionally to another would be a hard pill to swallow or a bruise to the ego. Defeat, concession, failure... those are all viable feelings waiting to take hold when someone is cornering you to bend to their will, yet I do not feel them. I feel nothing but calmness and tranquility as I accept the choice for what it is. This relationship doesn’t have room for two “CEO’s.” Dom’s damn good at that job, both in the boardroom as well as in our bedroom. It’s time to just let him do his job.
“Please,” I whisper.
The darkness of the night swallows us, yet his eyes are darker, standing out. I lock with them, silently conveying the emotions I’ve just sorted through.
“Tell me,” he commands.
I swallow hard, the seconds stretching themselves. I lick my lips, “Secrets. She said there were secrets. She told me to ask you about them.”
Dom nods, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice softens, his grip doesn’t.
“There are reasons you don’t know them, baby. They’re not meant to enter your world. It’s my job to protect you from them, and I will die to do it. Tell me you trust me to do that.”
His words play at my heartstrings, wanting to be accepted for what they are. A promise. A promise to shield me, to guard me. How can I not cherish him for wanting to do that?
I nod, accepting my place in his world. I am his, and his alone. “I trust you.”
His lips finally quench mine, full of released passion from our standoff, “Thank God.”
His hips rise harshly, in sync with his hands as they crash us together, impaling me with his soft spear. The softness of his voice directly contradicts the voracity of his movements. There is no rhyme or reason to it, it just simply... is.
The softness of his lips trailing sweet kissed over my skin, my neck, pales in comparison to the hard steel he is claiming me with... over and over again.
~*~
ONE MONTH LATER
The horizon takes on a deep bruised complexion in the rear view mirror as we drive from it. The days are long this time of year, but the lateness brings the heavy sun closer to rest. With the event growing closer, my work day never seems long enough, though. I find myself going over the same details again and again, settling for nothing short of perfection. Dom’s workload has seemed to increase along with mine. Our rare stolen moments together appreciated as a reprieve for us both.
“This doesn’t look like the right way, Dom.”
At first, I thought he was taking the scenic route. One or two turns later, I’m convinced we are lost.
Dom smiles, hand reaching over for mine, “Our reservation isn’t for another hour. I want to show you something first.”
OK. Firstly, we don’t need reservations at Alberti’s. Never have, never will. Secondly, the last time Dom took me on a driven detour to “show me” something, we ended up with a new vacation house.
“Dom, I have two days ‘till the event. I was hoping to get home in time to go over the vendor lists one more time before they start setting up at the vineyard.”
My hand is raised to his lips, a firm, moist kiss placed on my knuckles.
“No more working tonight.”
I eye him. Has he gone mad? Dom DiBenedetto swearing off w
ork? I guess pigs are flying these days. He catches my surprise, “Babe. Everything is set. It’s going to go off without a hitch. You’re only going to drive yourself crazy mulling over things again and again. Relax.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one directly responsible for a four hundred and fifty person gala in less than forty-eight hours.
Our impromptu road trip finds us crossing over into Jersey City. I now know the familiar turns and roadways as we head down to the marina. ATH has shipments that come into NYC, but the docks here in Jersey accept most of our ships. So much for not working anymore tonight. Dom probably needs to pick something up or drop something off. I knew he couldn’t resist a night without the company.
The shipments and traffic in these waters run twenty-four hours a day, although most of the administrative and clerical staff have probably left for the day. The familiar scents of sea water mixed with motor oil begin to waft about. These are scents of my childhood. Dad would take me down here every chance he could to show me the heart of his business. Even though he stayed mostly behind a desk, and Dom’s dad mostly in the field, he always said salt water was in our veins.
He was born near the water, in a small village on the coast of the Mediterranean. He sailed across oceans to come to his new country and found a way to support his family and earn a living from the water. This place is just as much a part of my life, my story as anything else. I’m glad for any opportunity to see it again.
We pass the lot for the ATH field office, turning from the commercial area of the docks toward the less used storage buildings. I’m truly lost now, as the only things in this direction are boats in need of repair or older storage sheds. ATH has several of these open buildings but I think I’ve been in them a total of fives times my entire life.
There are a couple of cars parked by one such building, with one man standing beside them apparently waiting for our arrival. Dom swings the car wide, pulling up next to his.
“We’re here.” He winks as he escapes the insides of the car. I furrow my forehead in silent question, following him into the evening.
The waiting man extends his hand to Dom as he approaches, “Mr. D., Glad you could make it. Everything is in place and ready to go.”
What the hell? I step next to Dom, reminding him of my presence.
“Tom, this is Vincenza. Vincenza, Tom Stuart.” I shake the man’s hand as Dom narrates our introduction. “Tom is a liaison between the field and home offices.”
I smile, “Glad to meet you, Tom. Would you mind telling me what, exactly, is ready to go. I seem to be in the dark, here.” I shoot Dom an accusatory sideways glance. If he won’t tell me, then I’ll find out on my own.
Dom laughs, speaking over my head to our companion as he guides me toward the hangar, “She’s not very patient, Tom. Thanks again, I’ll call if there are any problems.”
Tom nods, “Very well, sir. Have a wonderful time.”
I look to Dom but he offers no clues. Once we clear the side of the building, I see several deck hands working around a small fishing boat. When I say small, I use that term loosely compared to the massive shipping freighters. This boat could easily fit thirty or so people.
“Do you recognize it?”
I turn to Dom, wondering at his words. Recognize it? How could I recognize one of the company’s many boats? That’s not exactly my department.
Wait. It can’t be.
I stop in my tracks, squinting my eyes to better take in the details. The boat is old, quite easily sixty years or so. I can tell by the angles and hardware, but an unfamiliar eye would never have been able to tell. It is freshly painted and immaculately restored. The navy blue of the hull is rich in color like the water itself. We are approaching from the starboard side of the boat, close to the front, or bow as it rests next to a small pier. I can’t see the block letters painted on the rear of the boat from where we are, but I now realize what they will say.
“It can’t be!” I exclaim in amazement as I realize what this is.
Dom grabs my hand, willing me to continue with him toward the floating piece of history. Blu Liberta- Blue Freedom, was the very first boat our dads were able to buy. It was the beginning of everything. I knew it was taken out of service years and years ago as the company grew and moved into other directions. I assumed it was stored somewhere, knowing my brothers and Dom would never have the heart to sell it. It was a piece of our family history, of the companies history.
My dad used to take us kids out for day trips on it, always saying we should know where came from even though by that time we had a sailboat much closer to our house. He loved this boat. They had scrimped and saved and borrowed to buy it. It was a true representation of the american dream for him.
My vision becomes hazy as I blink back my tears.
“It’s been prepped and fueled. Let’s take it for a spin,” Dom suggests.
The deck-hands greet us as we near the vessel. My eyes are filled with wonder, taking inventory of the small details committed to my memory. Dom climbs into the boat first, the stacked metal stepping bars bobbing with the boat. Once inside, he turns to me and reaches out, grasping onto as much of my upper body as he can while hoisting me up.
I land on the wooden planks safely, still holding tightly onto him. Not so much for physical support, but for emotional. I haven’t been on this boat since the last time my Dad took me out on it. It couldn’t have been more than a month before he died. Dom holds tight, kissing my forehead long enough to offer assurances and comfort before he reluctantly releases me to help untether the boat from it’s holdings.
“Help me gather these, V. Do you remember how?”
I find hidden talents surfacing as I instinctually work my fingers and hands to help free the boat, the engine sounding a strong puttering as we clear the dock. The deck-hands wave to us as we make some distance, heading into the horizon.
I walk around the open area of the boat, amazed at it’s pristine condition. I feel the acceleration as the captain increases speed, carrying us further from land.
“Wh- who’s the Skipper?”
Dom smirks, “Do you remember Brian Dougherty?”
I search the recesses of my memory.
“You mean, my dad’s old fishing buddy?”
He smiles, pleased with my recollection of childhood figures, “Let’s go say hi.”
I nod enthusiastically, eager to see the old man. He and my dad were close. I know my mom still hears from him every now and again but I haven’t seen him in ages. The craft begins to sway some from the wake of the tide below, although I find my sea-legs quickly forming. Dom leads as we head in and up to the helm of the boat.
The radio is chiming in static-laden signals as we enter the area. The jolly looking older man in cover-all’s and a cabby hat works the ship’s wheel.
“Brian!” I call out to him, leaving Dom behind as I reach for the pudgy man.
Dom takes hold of the wheel, giving the skipper the freedom to leave it momentarily to greet me, rocking me back and forth in his embrace.
“Vincenza, I can’t believe my eyes!” The sweet man holds me tight. I still smell the familiar cigars and peppermint on his clothes. He always had a hidden stash of swirled peppermint candies in his pocket that he would use to bribe us to fetch him some bait or a cold drink. Momma swears he was the direct cause of at least one of my childhood cavities.
I hold the man out to inspect him. He’s aged, but has done it well. The white thinning, cotton-like hair escaping his hat is testament to it. If I remember correctly, he was about four years older than my dad was. I try to picture his aging features on the mental photograph of my youthful father, but can’t.
“I’m thinking the same thing! You look great for an old grandpa,” I chide him.
Brian smiles graciously, proud of his new role in life. Last I checked, he had six grandchildren. I’m sure they benefit from his secret candy stash as much as I did. He turns to Dom, over my shoulder.
“She�
��s just as beautiful as you said she was.”
I blush at his compliment. Although, how could I not be? The last time he saw me, I was in braces and most definitely had a pubescent blemish or two.
“You two get out there before the sun sets. We’ll catch up on the ride back in.”
I kiss the man on his cheek and follow along as Dom tugs at my hand.
The salt air greets us, with the surf spraying a mist of droplets that we dodge like imaginary bullets as we move against the wind to the bow, or front of the boat.
Brian slows our speed, as we’ve cleared the shipping lanes and settle drifting in the rolling waves. The sea is calm tonight, but I know it can change on a dime.
There is a gleaming silver ice bucket with a tall green bottle of champagne resting in it, situated in a corner. I point to it while arching my eyebrow.
Dom laughs, “What can I say? I’m a romantic...”
He pulls me into him, turning me so that I rest on him as we watch the deep amber and purple colors before us. The sky canvas is illuminated by a soft backlight, adding depth and dimension to the beauty. I close my eyes and breath the crisp air deep. I feel my skin tighten from the invisible layer of salt accumulating.
“Do you know how much I love you, V? I mean, how much I need you?”
I angle my head, tilting my chin to answer. “I do. Do you doubt that?”
He kisses my earlobe sweetly, brushing his lips over the area, “No.”
I aim my lips up to kiss him over my shoulder, “Good.”
His lips are sticky-salty just as I’m sure mine are. I breathe deep, as his lips move to my forehead. “I’ll pour us some glasses. You go watch the sunset. I’ll be there in a sec.”
His arms squeeze me one last time for good measure before releasing me. I carefully step my way to the railing, leaning on it with the wind blowing my hair. I hear the pop of the cork, but it is muted as the strong breeze sounds arounds me. I hear Dom shout words over to me, but can’t make them out over the noise of the sea. I wait for him to repeat himself, but he doesn’t, so I turn to ask him to.
