Trusting Again

by Peggy Bird

  The maitre’d materialized by the table. “Your dinner will be here shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Hernandez?”

  Marius turned away from her but kept his hand on her arm. “No, thank you, John. You did an excellent job of taking care of Ms. Blaine. I appreciate it.”

  “It was my pleasure. She’s an easy person to take care of.” He smiled at Cynthia and left as noiselessly as he had arrived.

  “Our dinner will be here shortly? You took it way too seriously the last time when I let you order for us.”

  “I thought it would be nice to have the same dinner we had on our first date.”

  “Completing the circle, are we? Ending as we started?”

  “You make it sound like something is over, mi amor. Unless you mean this is the end of the beginning, we’re not ending anything. We have a long way to go together.”

  “You don’t have to say things like that, Marius. It’s okay. While you’re away, you’ll have a lot of time to sort things out. Everything has happened so fast with us. You should probably be grateful you have this break.”

  “I don’t need a break and I won’t think about anything except getting home to be with you. Why would you think otherwise?”

  Before she could answer the unanswerable question, their salad appeared. It was followed by their entrees and eventually a cheese plate. Between bites, they talked about more neutral subjects — her plans to go to Bellingham to see her parents and to take a few day trips to galleries on the coast with new work, some highlights of his travel schedule. She hoped they’d left the previous conversation for good. Thinking about what he might reconsider during his six weeks away was not conducive to enjoying her meal.

  It would have been nice to have a romantic moonlit ride back to his house in the Porsche, but they’d driven separately to the restaurant. Besides, when they walked out after dinner, the moon was behind a band of clouds that threatened rain. By the time she got to his house, Marius had already started coffee and had put on some of the Latin music he loved, this time sultry tangos. When she got to the kitchen, after using the key he’d given her to unlock the front door, she put it on the counter and slid it toward him.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “It’s your house key.”

  “I know that, querida. I don’t know why you’re returning it.”

  “I won’t be here anymore.”

  The expression on his face was puzzled. “Keep it. You might need to get back in the house while I’m gone; maybe you’ll leave something. And you’ll want it after I get back anyway, won’t you?”

  Reluctantly, she slipped the key into the small purse she was carrying. He must have noticed her hesitancy because he came around the counter and pulled her to him, kissing her gently on the temple. “Why do I think you’re convinced we’re having our last night together?”

  “No, I don’t really think that. It’s just that … ” She hesitated, burrowing her face into his chest so he couldn’t see the fear she was sure was evident in her expression.

  “Just that your ex-boyfriend messed with your head and I’m paying — we’re paying — the price for it.”

  She looked up at him with what must have been a surprised expression, if his raised eyebrow was any indication. “Do you really think that’s all it is?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her again, this time not so softly. But he broke from the kiss abruptly and pulled back, his hands on her shoulders, an excited expression on his face. “I have an idea. Come with me. Come see Central America with me.” Before she could respond, he said, “I know, you can’t be gone for six weeks. You said at dinner you have a lot of work to catch up with. So, join me someplace in a couple weeks. I can show you some beautiful places. Wait until you see the amazing art.”

  “It sounds fabulous, but one: I don’t have that kind of money. Two: I don’t have a passport.”

  “The money isn’t a problem but the passport is, obviously.” He seemed to be thinking over other options. “All right then,” he finally said, “if you can’t come with me, live here while I’m gone. That might convince you I mean to come back to you. I’d have to sell the house and everything I own not to see you again.” He was smiling a particularly winsome smile.

  “Now you’re being silly. I’m not going to move in here for six weeks. I’ll be fine in my own apartment.”

  “Please?”

  She shook her head. Emphatically.

  “The offer will be here as long as I’m gone. Just let me know if you change your mind, so I can warn my neighbor not to call the cops.” He went to the living room and pulled something from his briefcase. “I have my itinerary for you. Put this on your refrigerator and circle the last date. It’s when I’ll be back home, back with you. Until then: text, email. I can’t hear from you too often. I’ll do the same. But it will be irregular. Some of the places I’m going are remote, no cell reception.”

  He looked at the paper as if seeing it for the first time. “You know there’s another thing we could do — I end up in San Francisco for three days. Why don’t you come there to meet me? You don’t need a passport to go to California. And I can get you a ticket with my frequent flyer miles.”

  “You’re sweet, but I think we should just let it go for now. Who knows … ?”

  “I’m not going to change my mind about us while I’m away, Cynthia. Get that idea out of your head.” He looked frustrated at the direction the conversation was taking. “But if I can’t even talk you into joining me in San Francisco, I guess I’m officially out of ideas on how to convince you I mean it.”

  She turned so he couldn’t see her sad eyes. “Coffee’s ready, I think,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Shall I pour?”

  He didn’t respond for a few moments, looking like he was lost in thought. She wasn’t sure if he was thinking of another wild suggestion like traveling to Central America with him or if he was reconsidering … no, she wasn’t going to go there.

  When he came back to her, he said, “I will. Then let’s take it downstairs.” He poured two mugs of coffee then started for the steps downstairs to his bedroom, motioning her to follow.

  The first time she’d seen his bedroom, she’d been struck by the colors. Tonight, all she could do was wonder if she’d ever be there again.

  “Let’s drink our coffee outside,” he said as he pushed a button and the floor-to-ceiling drapes along one side of the room opened to reveal yet another glass wall with a deck on the other side of it.

  “I had no idea that was there,” she said.

  For the first time since they’d gotten to the house, he smiled. “You must have had your mind on other things when you’ve been in my bedroom.”

  “Oh, come on, I’ve been here in daylight,” she protested. “Those drapes have never been open. I thought they were just a decorative thing. Instead, they hide the deck.”

  “I don’t open them often. This window faces east and I … ”

  “Don’t like morning. Right.” Desperate to get the conversation on a lighter note, she said, “But that might explain why I’ve been sleeping late since we got back. I thought I was just tired out from crewing on the boat.”

  He flipped the lights off in the bedroom. For a few moments, it was not only dark but quiet. Then, when he spoke, it was as if he knew she wanted to have a different conversation. He gave it to her. “Querida! You mean it wasn’t wanting to stay cuddled next to me that has kept you in my bed in the mornings? I woke up every morning this week with you wrapped around me. I liked it. Now you’re telling me it was just because the curtains were closed?”

  “Well,” she said as she stepped out on the deck, “I have to admit that being in bed with you might have had something to do with it.”

  “Here, join me,” he said as he sat on an oversized redwood lounge. When she sat beside him, he put his arm around her and settled her against his chest.

  She could hear soft Latin music in the background. “You can hear th
e music down here, too?”

  “In every room. A system it took me a month to figure out came with the house. It was yet another thing I didn’t know about until I moved in.”

  With no light from behind or on the deck itself and a moon still struggling to overcome the clouds drifting past, they were in complete darkness. They sat quietly, sipping coffee for a while as if they were each trying to come up with what would be a comfortable topic of conversation.

  After kissing her on the temple, Marius broke the silence. “Not to bring up a difficult subject again but is there anything I can bring back to you from my trip?”

  “Bring back to me? You mean, like a present?”

  He kissed her again. “Yes, querida, I mean like a present.”

  “You don’t have to bring me anything. You’ll be too busy working to worry about something like that.”

  “But I want to.”

  “Just pictures, then, of all the places you’re going. Where I’ve never been. I’d like pictures.”

  “And maybe a surprise? Do you like surprises?”

  “Not big ones. But I guess I like little ones okay.” She didn’t want to think what kind of surprise he might have for her when he returned.

  He put his mug on the deck and took hers, placing it beside his discarded one. Taking her face in his hand he said, “But no surprises tonight. Tonight I want to hold you and kiss you and love you.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said on a quick intake of breath. “I want that, too.” She sat up and faced him. “But first … ” She put one leg over his and ran her hands up his thighs.

  “There’s always a but with you, isn’t … ” He stopped as she settled herself between his legs. “Cynthia, what … ?”

  She was acting on an impulse. Although her heart was trying to hold on to the idea that he’d come back to her, her brain kept telling her that this might be the last night she’d spend with him. She wanted to make the night special, as good as it could be. A night she — if not he — would always remember. And this was as good a time to do what she was about to do as there had ever been.

  “Sh-h-h,” she said as she slowly lowered the zipper on his trousers. “Just sit back and enjoy this.” She released his stiffening cock from where it was beginning to tent up his boxers, curled her fingers around it and began to massage the shaft, feeling it grow harder and thicker. Even in the dark, she could see his face change from curiosity to desire, swore his dark eyes become darker; heard his sharp intake of breath. When he groaned and whispered her name, it gave her the courage to do something she’d never done before, never wanted to do before to any man.

  Slowly, she lowered her head until the head of his penis was between her lips. Running her tongue over the glans, she could taste his salty essence. She licked up one side and down the other, lingered on the tip. As she took him into her mouth, she could feel his member twitch, heard him groan again; felt him buck his hips up towards her. She circled him with her tongue, sucked him further into her mouth, feeling her nipples harden, her breasts get heavy and her panties wet, getting as much pleasure as she was giving.

  She didn’t know why she had never done this before with him. It was empowering, hearing how he responded to every lick, every touch. She could get lost in just doing this all night, she thought as she sucked and licked.

  But he gritted out through clenched teeth, “Cynthia, if you don’t stop now, I won’t … ” He pushed her head away so her mouth came off his penis with a soft “pop.”

  She looked up at him, her hand still around his shaft, trying to gauge the expression on his face in the dark. “Marius, I want to.”

  “Mi amor, can we continue this in bed, while I can still walk there? While we still have a chance to be in this together?”

  “Or, we could make love out here … I mean, if you don’t want me to continue with this.” Her voice shook as she made the most outrageous suggestion she could ever remember making.

  He pulled her up beside him. “So, you’re my little exhibitionist. I never knew.” Apparently willing to join her in her game, he tugged on the zipper, working her dress down to her waist. When he’d gotten it as far as he could alone, she helped him get it the rest of the way off. In just her heels and panties now, she began pulling at his shirt buttons. He didn’t make it an easy task, caressing her breasts and trying to get his mouth all over her while she was unbuttoning him.

  Finally, she succeeded and he stripped off the shirt. She had already gotten his trousers open, now she tugged at them, he lifted his hips and she yanked them down. The trousers, briefs, and his shoes ended up in a heap on the deck.

  She got on her knees on the lounge chair, put her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slowly, very slowly began to inch them down her hips. Her reward was a throaty growl and an attempt to hurry her along, but she swatted away his hands and continued with her lazy disrobing.

  His patience must have snapped. He took her by the hips and settled her next to him, then finished the job she was apparently doing too slowly. “Off. Now, mi amor. We have to get those off.”

  Her phony protest was buried in his kiss that quickly spiraled out of control, more like a brand on her mouth than a kiss. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, around his neck so she could pull him closer. Threading her fingers through his hair, she threw back her head and brought his mouth to her breasts. His tongue curled over her nipple, sending shocks from her chest down her torso to where everything was aching with arousal.

  He cupped her butt with one hand and drew her closer. His erection was pressing hard against her sex. She’d never wanted anyone more than she wanted him right now. She slid over his body and straddled him, took his penis in her hand and began to guide it into her waiting, wanting body.

  He gripped her wrist and stopped her. “Wait, we have to have … ”

  “Protection.” She slid off him, dropped her head on his chest. “We have to have protection.”

  “It’s inside. In the bedside table.”

  They made an interesting sight walking into the bedroom, she was sure. She was in heels. Period. He was in socks. Ditto.

  He must have noticed it too. “You know we are dangerously close to being a porno film, don’t you, querida?” he said. She must have looked confused because he went on. “Your heels and my socks. And what we were doing outside where we might be caught at any moment. All we need is a pizza delivery boy.”

  “They all figure in porn flicks?”

  “So I’m told.”

  “So you’re told. Right.” She made a soft, almost snorty sound.

  But one step further into the room and she stopped. In a voice much lower and throatier, she said, “On second thought,” she pulled the pins out of her hair and shook it out so it tumbled down her back, “maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Maybe I’d like being a porn star … for you.” She raised her arms over her head and began to deliberately rotate her hips in time to the sultry music that was playing. When she saw the desire spark in his eyes, she slid her hands down her sides, then up under her breasts. “Come closer, lover,” she said in the same husky voice. “Watch me dance for you.”

  He took two steps toward her, grabbed her around her waist and said, “I’d rather dance with you than watch, mi amor,” and slowly, tantalizingly, moved her, one sensual dance move at a time, around the room and then toward his bed. The feeling of his naked body, his now steely erection against her belly, her soft breasts pressed against his hard chest, the hair tickling her nipples, made her even wetter than she had been. She put her head back and he dipped her so she almost touched the floor, holding her there as he kissed and licked his way from between her breasts to the hollow at the base of her neck.

  Why, she thought, did she trust him not to drop her when they were dancing when she had such a hard time believing he cared enough about her to return to her after his trip? Was physical trust so much easier than emotional trust?

  “Mother of God,” he said as he br
ought her upright, “I’ve never been with anyone like you. I’m in lo … ” He stopped; his face in shadow and unreadable. He shook his head then sat her down on the bed. Kneeling, he unbuckled her sandals and then helped her pull the comforter down.

  After he shed his socks and joined her in bed, he said, “If this isn’t what you want, we can go back outside. I didn’t mean to interfere with your plans.”

  “No, it’s fine. Here’s fine. Anyplace is fine. Just love me.” She hurried to talk over the last sentence. “Just make love to me.” She turned and pulled him to her, her hands all over him, trying to make him forget what she had said.

  Chapter 12

  Marius had never seen this side of her, this naughty, slightly dirty side of her. Hell, he was willing to bet no one had ever seen it and if he had his way, no one else ever would. Every move aroused him, every kiss was returned with a passion that ate at his soul. When he moved down her body to take her breast in his mouth, she moaned with pleasure at the first touch, gasped at his teeth gently raking over the nipple, shivered when he sucked on first one breast then the other.

  And when his hand made a foray down her belly, to the forest of damp curls between her legs, she moved restlessly, pushed at his hand, begging him to touch her where she wanted to be touched; needed to be touched. As he complied, his fingers in her hot, wet core, she came undone in his arms.

  So exhausted was she by her orgasm that she fell asleep almost immediately. He watched her for a while, stroking her hair, listening to her soft, sleeping sounds then he carefully left the bed. When he’d gathered up their clothes from the deck, he came back to the room and closed the drapes. She was awake, looking around the room, as if confused.

  “Hello there. I was afraid I’d lost you for the night,” he said.

  “Where were you? I thought … ”

  He held up the armload of clothes he was carrying. “It looks like rain. I wanted to bring all this in.”