Crazy Ride

by Nancy Warren

  They were walking toward the bikes but at his words she stopped dead, leaned into him and kissed his mouth.

  “What was that for?”

  “You noticed. You actually noticed the color of one of the flowers in my garden.”

  He noticed more than that. He noticed the contour of her breasts in that top, and, unless he was very much mistaken, there was no bra between her skin and the bright cotton top.

  He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a deeper kiss. He knew something about Emily that he hadn’t known earlier. She was totally open and uninhibited about sex, which was to be expected given her upbringing, he supposed. But the woman was starved for romance.

  Joe didn’t consider himself a romantic, but he suddenly wanted to give that to Emily. He wanted to serenade her by singing ballads under her window at night. He wanted to bring her silly gifts so he could see her flustered pleasure. But if he did that, then she might do something he suspected she’d never done before. She might fall in love with him.

  Ooh, bad idea. Unless he was willing to do something he’d never done before. And what would be the point? They had no future together. He should be smart like Em. Enjoy the sex and when the time came, drive away with a smile.

  They were mostly silent as they drove through town and then opened up the speed when they hit the deserted country roads. He felt badass and free as he slowed to bump down the rutted lane that led to the former sanitarium.

  She undid the padlock and he unwound the rusty chain and opened the gate and then they rode right into the property. Unlike the last time he’d been here, they didn’t bother relocking the gates behind then.

  They left the bikes at the grand entrance and mounted the wide marble steps, cracking slightly with age but still in pretty good shape. She fitted a big old key into the lock that opened one of the enormous double oak doors. There was an inscription in faded gold lettering above the door.

  Mens sana in corpore, he read. “Healthy in mind and body.”

  “You know Latin?”

  “They still teach it in my prep school.”

  She smiled but didn’t say anything, merely opened the door and ushered him in ahead of her.

  His footsteps echoed in the dim marble entranceway. It was massive. Dim because of course the electricity wasn’t hooked up, but the twelve-foot windows let in streamers of sunlight. No one had bothered to board up the windows, and not one was broken.

  Ahead of him was the double curving staircase, and the twelve foot phallic columns gave the place a Greco-Roman orgy look. In the center of the foyer was the dry shell fountain with its pearl inside.

  He glanced at the whole set up, looked over at Emily who was watching him in some amusement.

  When he’d seen this stuff in the company of the Realtor, he’d barely paid attention. Now, in Emily’s company, he liked being surrounded by the marble garden of sex. “Your great grandpa didn’t believe in subtlety, did he?”

  She laughed. “Nope. You should see it when the water’s flowing.”

  “I’d love to. Is this place anything but a big wet dream?” His voice echoed oddly in the cavernous space. It was like being in a huge cave surrounded by sexually suggestive stalagmites. He looked around and felt a sudden urge to take Emily against one of those gigantic marble phalluses and get her fountain running, pearl and all.

  “Emmet was ahead of his time, I think. But his beliefs were sincere. He thought sexual repression was the root of a lot of illnesses, both mental and physical. In those days he was probably right.”

  “In these days, too.”

  “Do you think so? But everything is so much more open now, and there’s therapy and help available for most sexual troubles, without any stigma attached.”

  “People are still fucked up about sex, though. Look at us.”

  Oh, that got her attention. She swung around. “Us? What’s wrong with us?”

  “Oh, gee. Let’s see. I can’t fall asleep in the same room as a woman and you treat sex like a fast food meal.”

  “What?” The word echoed around them.

  “You need sex, like you need food, but you’re not interested in romance.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. This from a man I’ve slept with exactly twice.”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think without my usual toys, and it’s amazing how perceptive I’ve turned out to be.”

  “Delusional you mean.”

  “I thought you were afraid of romance.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No one’s afraid of romance.”

  “Exactly. I’m pretty new at this perceptive stuff, so I got off on the wrong track.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You’re not afraid of romance. You’re afraid of love.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times and her chest rose and fell. “How dare you say something like that, about a woman you barely know?”

  “I haven’t known you a long time, but it’s been pretty intense. I’m no Freud, I’m not even a Dr. Beaver, but I’m sticking by my diagnosis.”

  “I do love people. I love Aunt Lydia and Aunt Olive. I loved my grandmother so much it hurts me every time I think about her.”

  She was looking open and vulnerable, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink. Maybe he should shut the hell up and back off. This wasn’t his business and she was right, he certainly didn’t have much background or right to give her a drive-through psych exam. And yet, something pushed him on. Something in her that he now saw he’d recognized because it mirrored something inside him.

  “Em, you’re trying to bullshit the master, here. You don’t have to. I get it.”

  “What do you get? You laid awake beside me in bed and instead of realizing how screwed up your own head is, you decided to analyze mine?”

  Her voice rose and he felt oddly protective of her. Okay, she didn’t want to poke at her own psychological sore places. But maybe it was time she did. Maybe it was time they both did.

  “Your mother abandoned you,” he said gently. “You don’t even know who your father is.”

  “Thank you. I’m aware of those facts.” She drew in a deep breath so shaky he wanted to pull her in his arms and make her forget her pain.

  “You haven’t seen a lot of happy marriages in your family, have you? It’s all about fixing problems and sex circuits, but I don’t think you believe love is for you. You’re scared of the very thing you want most.” He stepped forward and she stepped around him.

  “Exactly like you, Joe.”

  He felt dizzy for a moment, like the ghost of old Emmet himself had just clocked him one.

  “This was a stupid idea. Forget it. You want to try and destroy this town? Fine. But we’re going to fight back.”

  She started to charge past him but he grabbed her. “Hey, please don’t run away. I’m sorry. I was out of line. You’re right. I don’t know anything about you.” He let her go but she didn’t move, just stood there staring at him with her too-big eyes. Obviously, no one had ever challenged her before. It wasn’t his place, and maybe it wasn’t the time.

  Her breath was deep and slow, like someone counting to ten before blasting off in anger. She seemed undecided about what she was going to do, then suddenly stiffened her spine. “I do want to show you this place.”

  “Great. I’m dying to see it with you.”

  She laughed. He hugged her to him with one arm and by tacit agreement, they let their earlier tension go.

  But he was determined that before they were much older, it was going to rear its ugly head again.

  Because he saw, as he couldn’t have seen before coming to Beaverton, that if he could help Emily, he could help himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Who the hell did Joe think he was? Emily fumed. The man had about as many qualifications to shrink her head as he did to fix his own car.

  If they were talking mergers and acquisitions, she’d listen, for in that arena he’d earned the right to
be heard. But if ever a man had fewer qualifications to judge another’s heart, it was Joe.

  Looking into her was like looking into a mirror?

  In what fun-house.

  “We can start on this level with the treatment rooms,” she said. “They’re gorgeous. You couldn’t replace the luxury today. The cost would be stupid.”

  She tried to see the place through his eyes. There was enough marble to rival the Vatican, some of it carved in what he could only term a medical-erotic style.

  There was a steam room with gold-plated faucets. And then there were the bathing rooms lined with large mirrors decorated with cavorting cherubs on the gilt frames. Faded gold script stenciled around the walls challenged his Latin. The mirrors were speckled with age but not broken. No graffitti marred the walls.

  “This is amazing,” he said. “I’m trying to work out the meanings of those inscriptions. They’re about health and electricity, well-being and freedom.”

  “Some of these baths are private, and some built for two.”

  “Which two?”

  She tapped him on the nose with her index finger. “It wasn’t rare for rich couples who were having trouble conceiving a child, or who simply had troubles in the conjugal bed, to come here together. The regimen, as I understand it from Emmet’s notes, was to treat them separately and also together. I suspect a lot of their together time was simply a chance to practice the new skills, or take the time to enjoy each other.”

  “So time was a problem even then.”

  “I guess so.”

  Joe had to admit that the room they were currently in was gorgeous. There was no other term for it. Marble, gold, cherubs doing things that no cherub should even know about, and a deep marble basin with something he hadn’t noticed before. Several holes in the marble that looked like water intake valves.

  “What are those things?” he asked Em.

  “This is one of the earliest examples in America of the double Jacuzzi.”

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “No. This area has natural hot springs. Emmet thought they were as good or better than the ones in Baden Baden in Germany or Bath in England. That’s why he chose this site for his sanitarium.”

  “A double Jacuzzi. I don’t believe it.”

  She sent him a mischievous look. “I know how to turn it on. Want to try?”

  “You mean it still works?”

  “Sure. We can’t pay the taxes on this place, but we do keep it up.”

  “But you can’t be on city water.”

  “No, of course not. The hot springs are piped in directly, mixed with cold water from the well on the property. Give me five minutes.”

  She disappeared and he went in for a closer look. It was amazing.

  He was even more amazed when Emily reappeared a couple of minutes later and turned a gold tap in the floor. Water gushed into the tub. But it flowed out again almost as quickly. “I think you’ve got a leak,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, it’s supposed to do that,” and she put her hands to the bottom of her tank top and yanked it over her head. He didn’t much care if the entire place flooded. He was looking once more at a pair of the nicest breasts he’d ever seen. As he’d suspected, there’d been no bra under there. When she stepped out of her leather pants there was nothing left but a bright pink thong.

  He wanted to remove it himself, but his tongue was too slow and before he’d formed words, she was sliding the pink slip of fabric down her legs and off.

  She cocked a brow at him. “Well? It’s for two.”

  “Right,” he managed. “Right.”

  He was as naked as she in seconds. The tub was still bubbling and gurgling and the water was rising but at a very sedate pace thanks to the drain in the bottom.

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” she said looking at his face.

  “Get what?”

  “I like to call this one, Lady’s Choice.” She stepped in and settled herself on a marble seat, as the water gushed around her, she let her legs slip apart. There was nothing random about the way the water flowed, and once more he was reminded of the fountain in the foyer.

  With more haste than elegance, he scrambled in to the co-pilot’s seat behind her.

  Warm water gurgled and sloshed around them, emitting the aroma of rotten eggs. “Couldn’t the genius doctor have done something about the smell?”

  “It’s the sulfur. All good springs smell. You’ll get used to it.”

  “I could definitely get used to this,” he said, slipping his hands around her and cupping her breasts.

  “Mmmm.” She was already closing her eyes and leaning back against him. He kissed her neck, where steam-dampened tendrils were already clinging. The water was perfect, hot but not too hot, so you could stay in here a while if you had a mind to. Or, based on the sounds already coming from Emily, be out pretty damned quick if you so desired.

  Her breasts were wet and slick. He’d have liked some soap, or gel, but of course there wasn’t any, so he made do with the water, splashing it up onto her chest and following the track of the water with his finger tips. Her nipples beaded, and her head fell back against him.

  He reached down, under the bubbling water to the center of her body where water streamed in a steady flow. He intercepted it, pressing a hand against her. She bucked against him, part protest, and part longing for more. He could feel the beat of the water against his hand, feel its diluted impact on her flesh which was already swelling with desire.

  He sported a smaller version of the marble pillars downstairs, and wanted nothing more than to enact one of the many ideas about sex and health that were no less provocative for being spelled out in Latin.

  He hoisted her up and slid into her.

  “Oh,” she cried, as she settled on his lap. With her legs wide, the water stream hit both of them – it was a strange feeling to have his balls caught in the stream of water, but nice.

  For Em it was obviously more than nice. She started to squirm on his lap, milking him as her excitement rose. He found by using his hand to intercept the flow he could slow her down and then slip his fingers away to put her back in the jet stream.

  She turned her head and kissed him wetly while he felt her excitement build, felt his own keep pace, until there was no stopping the explosion that rocked them.

  Afterward, she turned her body all the way around so they were pressed chest to chest in the warm bubbling water, and kissing as though they’d soon be torn apart forever.

  They lazed in the water awhile. “This water is considered super healthy,” she said. “Lots of people came here to drink it. Lots of locals still do.”

  They didn’t talk much as they used their shirts to dry themselves off and then dragged on their clothes over still-damp skin. Once she’d drained the tub and turned the water off again, they headed out, by tacit agreement not bothering with the rest of the tour. Joe had seen what she needed him to see.

  This was a place founded on the principals of love and connection as a way to health. To change its focus to ripping minerals out of the ground wouldn’t be right.

  When they got back to the foyer, Joe kissed her, sweet and tender, and she realized she was in trouble when she clung to him, not wanting to break the kiss, not ever.

  “Will you do something for me, Emily?”

  She almost replied, anything, but stopped herself in time. “What?”

  “Will you let me address the community and at least tell them about the positive aspects of this proposed mining operation?”

  Oh, Lord. She’d been thinking he might ask her to have dinner with him tonight, go back with him to New York, marry him even, and he wanted to address a town meeting. No wonder she kept her ideas about sex and love separate. She was good at one, and clueless about the other.

  Okay, she readjusted her thoughts with an effort. His request was fair and logical. The people of Beaverton deserved a chance to hear his proposal from an unbiased source. However, Joe was a busin
ess type and he’d expect some negotiation, so she couldn’t just say yes, even though she knew it was a great idea, not least because she knew what Joe didn’t, that no one in this town wanted a mine. They weren’t interested in money and big profits and union wage jobs, they were interested in their eccentric livelihoods and this tiny paradise where anyone could do whatever they liked with their time so long as they didn’t hurt anyone.

  If Joe addressed them on the benefits of his mining and factory plan, the people of this town were going to address him right back, and he might learn that there were probably other communities where his program would be a lot more welcome than this one.

  She made him wait, as though she were contemplating his request, while she locked up and then when they were outside on the grounds, she put her head to one side and screwed up her face as though she really, really hated this idea. Then she said, after a suitable pause for reflection, “I’ll tell you what. If I agree to set up this meeting for you, then you have to promise to stay in town for the rest of the week and go and see Gordon Hartnett at the end of it.”

  Joe looked at her and raised his eyebrows, but a smile lurked in his pewter-blue eyes. “Still trying to save my life?”

  “More than ever.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll even organize the meeting.”

  He nodded, and held out his hand. “Agreed.”

  She put out her hand to shake his and he pulled her so she tumbled off balance and into his arms where he kissed her with all the passion she craved. In truth, she was much more pleased than she should have been to confirm that he’d be around for the better part of another week.

  “And I’d like to book a flight to check out the local terrain, but maybe you can let the pilot know he doesn’t have to crash the plane or lose his way or something else to ensure I don’t leave town.”

  Her mouth felt suddenly dry and her tongue as rubbery as a three day old tuna. “Exactly what…?”

  “Honey, I am on to you. I know you and the town crackpots were in cahoots to keep me here.”