by SJ Cavaletti
She looked at my wrist. And back up at my face with wondering eyes. I didn’t mention it and she didn’t ask. But yes. It was the watch she had given me for our first year anniversary.
Not able to keep eye contact with me after seeing it, she made plans with Drake instead. “We’re eating supper with our camp so we’ll come over at like, eight?”
She looked at Simone, and Simone responded with a thumbs up.
“My ride only has room for four, though. How many people are you camping with?”
“We have...” I counted in my head, “We have nine, but people have bikes. You don’t have to cart us all around.”
“I call dibs though,” Drake said. He loved art cars.
“Alright then. Ooookay,” Liz said, preparing for an awkward goodbye, “Right, well, need to get this ice back to camp but we’ll see you later.”
13
Liz
Present Day
Uyu
* * *
“Nice meeting you, Drake,” I said.
Simone raised her arm to wave goodbye. “Nice meeting you guys.”
When we turned around to leave the tent, Simone took one last look to make sure the guys were out of earshot. “Well, that went well.”
“That’s the way it would always go with, El. He would never cause drama.”
“Well, people change.”
“Yeah, they do. But he’s too conscientious to change for the worse.”
“He’s one good-looking guy. Tell me, did that change?”
“No. Still the same gorgeous guy I remember. Annoying, really. He’s a few years older than I am and I swear we look the same age now. Damn estrogen.”
“You look awesome girl. What are you talking about? You’re not going all self-sabotage on me. You’re supposed to be the queen of positive self-talk.”
“Mmm.”
“Well, I know what this means.”
I looked up at Sim. “It means you still love him. Or at least you want him to want you.”
“What? Why would you say that?” I asked. We’d arrived at the chariot and I handed her the melty, cold bag that wasn’t doing much good on my lap. I couldn’t feel it, but the ice could.
“Because suddenly you’ve gone all wobbly knees and self-deprecating. Most common female symptom of male attraction. Next you’ll be painting yourself for tonight like you’ve never done. Like a peacock.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sir Attenborough. I do not want El. It took a long time to get over that and the last thing I want to do is push play again. I’m just calling a spade a spade. The boy looks good.”
Simone looked to the heavens, wanting a conversation with someone she considered more tuned in than she gave me credit for. She threw the ice on board as I wiggled my way on to the platform.
“Okay,” she said, “He looks good. I’ll give you that. It’s not like I didn’t notice myself.”
I pushed myself on to the driver’s seat and raised it to standing height.
“Anyway,” she continued, “You agreed to hang out tonight. That surprised me. Pleasant surprise, but a surprise.”
That shouldn’t have been so easy. To not only agree to hanging out but feel so genuinely nonchalant about taking El and his friends for a ride around Uyu. And yet, it was easy as it had ever been.
Because that was El. Through and through he made people comfortable, like he’d been working on his bedside manner since sucking on a pacifier. He made you feel like he’d take care of you and whatever worry you had, mental, physical, emotional… he could cure you. A total expert in putting people at ease.
When I saw those giant black pupils with the thin ring of cinnamon sparkling around it, my veins rattled. His eyes. I’d always thought they were so intense. Welcoming, but masculine. El was the alpha male who is so damn in charge they can let you think you’re right and confidently wait for you to find out you aren’t.
He still looked amazing everywhere else, too. A timeless Mediterranean man whose skin looked like cocoa butter just melted into it. And he had on a black sleeveless top, his arms making it clear he still made time for the gym and gorged on protein. Just a thin layer of skin clothed his biceps and I couldn’t help running my mind’s eye down his abs. No doubt those, too, were still like a washboard.
Thank goodness I’d been working out, too. Did he think I’d changed? Maybe for the better, too? Sure, I had a few wrinkles around my eyes, but at least I had smiled. He might not have remembered what that looked like.
The last time I saw El, I had been rock bottom. Physically and emotionally. I just couldn’t pick myself back up after the accident. Too many things had changed all at once. We got engaged; I became paralyzed; we moved to Seattle where I no longer had a friend and family support system. I was like an astronaut disconnected from the mother ship. No gravity. No oxygen. Just floating. The scariest time of my life.
Simone took in the sights as I lulled in my melancholy. Thankfully, she interrupted my flashback. “How old do you think Drake is?”
I laughed. “Old enough to make you a cradle robber. A cougar. Sugar mama. Getting your credit card out for that boy toy…”
“Alright, alright. I’m not that old.”
“I’m joking. I don’t know. He’s cute. Maybe late twenties? Thirty? I thought you liked older men, though?”
We pulled into our camp as it was only a few minutes' drive.
“I do normally. But you know. Uyu is about experiencing new things, right?”
I nodded.
We dismounted and headed to the main tent. There, we found RollerBunny talking with a woman amputee standing with a walker and a man in a wheelchair.
“Hey!!” He said, noticing us coming toward him. “I was just talking about you two.”
“Naughty things, I hope,” Simone said, teasing. “We brought an extra bag of ice. Would’ve brought more, but we didn’t know if there was room anywhere for it.”
RB bowed his head. “Thank you. There’s probably just enough room in the red cooler.” He gestured into the tent. “Just let some of the melted water out onto the pad and hopefully you can cram it in. Really appreciate that.”
Simone went into the tent.
“So,” I said to RB, “What kind of gossip are you spreading about us?”
“Ah, these guys were asking about the chariot.” He gestured to the woman and man. “This is Sasha and Ben. Guys Liz here designed the chariot. And if you guys need any help with equipment, she’s also our resident engineer.”
When I’d read about gifting at Uyu, I had Simone tell RollerBunny that I was a capable technician. I knew we were staying at a camp where people might have lots of equipment. Chairs, CPAPs… this kind of stuff wasn’t designed to survive fine the gypsum dust’s fine particles, nor the potential overheating from this sun. I hoped my gift might keep everyone’s devices buzzing.
Sasha and Ben nodded.
Then Sasha put on a bashful smile, “I actually know you. I mean, who you are. I saw you speak at the Ely conference in Minnesota? The Strong Armed Woman conference?”
“Oh wow. You saw me speak? Thanks for coming to see me,” I recalled the conference Sasha spoke about and waggled my finger, “Yeah, you know… I hate to say this but what stood out about that conference was that it was held in what had to be one of the hilliest places. I thought the Midwest was supposed to be flat! And who had a conference for people in wheelchairs and with mobility issues in a place like that? Is there nowhere flat in Minnesota?”
“Minnesota is flat!” Sasha said. “I thought the same thing! Ely is a known tourist place. Really beautiful but totally not accessible. The resort was nice.”
“It was. Really pretty.”
Sasha smiled wider, pouring warmth into my chest. “I have to say, I was so inspired by your story. How you picked yourself up and got on with it. And still feel not just beautiful but sexy. You know, I really lost my mojo after my amputation. You were the only person I wanted to hear at that conference. I could deal with t
he mobility stuff and figuring out the logistics of being in a chair most of the time. But wanted to feel hot and womanly again, you know? I also really love your newsletter. You should know my husband and I got back in the saddle after seeing you speak. I signed up for your workout videos, too.”
My hands folded, I brought them to my chest, showing Sasha my elation. My appreciation. My solidarity.
RollerBunny chimed in, “Liz. You’re stealing my fan club. Not sure I can handle a celebrity in camp.”
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty niche,” I joked.
“Yeah, you’re niche? I’m a guy in a chair that runs a camp of counterculture mechanical misfits. Sasha here was my ONLY fan.” He pointed to her as his body bounced up and down as if a silent laugh hoped to escape.
RollerBunny flattered me. And Sasha filled me up. That I positively affected just one other woman was everything to me. And to give her a sex life again and help her overcome. The worst libido killer was not lack of mobility. It was our own minds.
But talking to Sasha, and having just seen El, I was also reminded me that part of me and this speech I gave was fraudulent. Sure, I felt sexy again. After reaching the lowest of my personal lows I had decided I deserved to not just survive, but to thrive.
So yes, I felt sexy again, but I really hadn’t HAD sex again.
I dated one guy for a few months and had to be totally wasted to have sex with him. Though honestly, I thought it was less about my body and more about El. I’d told El he would be my last everything and even two years after I broke up with him, when I met Dave, I’d felt as though I was cheating on El. Breaking a promise. So I got drunk and the times I had sex during that three-month stint, every time I woke up feeling like it was a regretful one-night stand.
I only stayed with Dave for a short time and had mostly been married to my work since breaking off my engagement.
Back to Sasha, I said, “I’m really glad for you and your husband. You deserve it.”
And I meant it. Because every woman, no matter what, deserves to feel the purr of a sexual kitten inside.
The teeny tiny beginnings of a rumble stirred inside of me when I saw El again today. I’d have to silence that. Figure out a way to be friends for real. It had been easy from a distance. Harder to put that scenario together in a real-life situation. But I finally had my life on track. And a noble life, it was.
Drama was not on my agenda. Quite the opposite. I spoke all around the country about being empowered. I was the poster girl for control. I made a difference. I had a nice apartment. Friends. A life in the sun… in a flat city.
I loved the woman I’d become.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also miss the woman that I used to be.
Especially the woman I had been with El.
14
Elias
Six Years Ago
Sedona
* * *
She was still sleeping. I lay there next to her, taking in her angelic and peaceful face as she slept next to me. Liz wasn’t beautiful the way some girls were, like they had come off a production line. She had hooded eyes that gave her face a permanent sultry look but when she smiled, the sweetness of it transformed those off limits, intimidating, sexy eyes into a woman you could take home to Mom. I could stare at her for hours. A sliver of morning light came in through the window and made her golden hair glisten.
She’d said yes. Last night, while I looked up at her from bended knee, her face glowed brighter than ever before and she said yes.
My fiancée.
Liz was my fiancée.
My life had never been better.
Liz and I were a power couple. We had plans. Big ones. Ones that were beyond two people but could change the world. Well, at least our world.
In the next two years, she would create a life-saving medical invention. I, too, put my money where my mouth is and I’d joined PUHC. Physicians for Universal Health Care. Screw the administration. Screw the system. Together, we were standing up for what we believed in. Hand in hand. What an incredible feeling to share every single one of your life’s intentions. The ones for my singular self. The ones for the world.
The perfect mate for my soul.
I stroked her cheek, smoothing my fingers along her flawless, tanned skin. I moved them up to her forehead and ran one along her eyebrow. Inside that head of hers was something special. Liz was so much more than a pretty face.
That notebook of hers. That really sealed the deal for me. I had never met a person who cared more about changing the world. Not in person, anyway. Sure. Liz would be the first to say she was no Gandhi or Mandela. But she was altruistic to her core.
Just on the plane ride to Sedona, we discussed her notebook.
“You’re a real Marie Curie,” I’d said to her on the flight over.
“You know I don’t like to compare myself to the greats.”
I kissed her neck.
She continued, “But that’s about the level my spirit could go to. So long as you’d be my Pierre.”
I took her hand in mine and quoted one of my favorite medical couples. “It would be a beautiful thing, a thing I dare not hope, if we could spend our life near each other, hypnotized by our dreams: your patriotic dream, my humanitarian dream, and our scientific dream.”
She pulled back, half shocked, half impressed. “Did Pierre actually say that, or are you a poet now, too?”
“He said that.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“That’s us.”
I always wanted to meet a woman like Liz but almost didn’t think it was even possible she existed. I wanted to be with a nerd. But an active one that loved getting outdoors and being adventurous. One that could put aside the calculations for a pair of sneakers and take a risk jumping out of a plane. I wanted a big heart that didn’t give a crap if it was realistic or not to save the world because it was a worthwhile endeavor despite its impossibility.
And yeah, I’m a man. So a nice pair of breasts and a pretty face were on the wish list, too.
Next to me, in this bed right now, was that woman. And I put a ring on it before anyone else did.
She stirred just as my heart seams were about to pop open. Her eyes opened. She smiled and put her hand on my cheek.
“You been awake long? I’m still tired…” She closed her eyes again.
I kissed her nose. “No, just woke up.”
She elongated her body in a morning stretch. She did it every morning to send oxygen through her body. Liz was tall, and together we took up most of the space in any bed, so when she did this, her stiff legs and toes would poke my shins, telling me to rise and shine as well. She rubbed her foot up and down my calf and let out a long breath, like exhaling all the old dusty wind of yesterday.
“I think I had too much to drink last night,” she said.
“We all did.”
“Yeah right. You’re always sensible.”
“Am not.”
“Are you hungover?”
“No. But that’s because I’m Greek.”
“Or a man.”
“Both things on my side.”
She wrapped her arm around me. “The science isn’t proven. More likely you’re a high functioning alcoholic.”
I grabbed her gently around the waist and pulled her closer. “The only thing I get high on is you.”
I kissed her and moaned into her mouth. Her lips belonged to me. They were the ones that I would kiss for the rest of my life. The ones that would say “I do.” The ones would greet me at the end of a tough day. The ones that scream at a concert or on a rollercoaster with me. The ones that would wrap around my dick and dare I say it in the same sentence, kiss our children.
Thinking of all this at once, my slow morning kiss rushed ahead, taking her soft pout in like I inhaled an entire lifetime in a second.
I felt her hands on my back; they kneaded my skin. She scratched me with all ten fingernails and I groaned.
“That’s not the feeling
of a hungover woman on my back,” I whispered into her mouth, “Unless you’re taking it out on me.”
“I was hoping you might take it out of me…” She bit my bottom lip. “What do you say, Doc? Got one in you before we head out into the sunshine?”
She already knew the answer because my cock poked her in the hip. I rubbed on her and she rolled her hips into me. I reached around to grab her ass in my hand and gripped it so hard it could have torn it off.
She slid her hand down between us and took my cock in her hand, giving it a rub. A rush of blood responded, giving her more dick to hold.
“Oh Doc, I have an owie,” she said playfully.
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“My pussy hurts.”
I bit her ear, and her back arched. “Let me take a look.”
I threw the covers off us and worked my way down her neck with kisses, making a stop at those beautiful, round breasts. I licked circles around her hard pink nipples. Taking one gently between my teeth, I put just enough sharp pressure on to make her gasp. Looking up, she bit her lower lip.
I sucked in her pebbled nipple one last time, let it out with a pop. Her hips writhed as if her sex was totally connected to those juicy tits and pointy nipples. When they were hard. Her clit was hard.
I sat up and looked at her, but her eyes were closed, as they often were when she knew I was going to lick her like a hungry dog. She loved it. I knew by the way she responded, but she couldn’t watch.
I parted her legs and climbed in between, opening them and revealing that pink-red pussy of hers. Spread, glossy, surely throbbing, just knowing what was coming.
I bent over again. My lips smoothed down the length of her stomach and to the top of her sex. Sweet and musky. My tongue gliding along the inner crease between her thigh and pussy, I moved inward, low, finding her opening where the juice of her sex dripped. I lapped it upward, stroking my tongue up to her clit, now protruding. A button I wanted to push.
Circling around her clit, she arched and wriggled, but tried to stay still, but her clit was so damn hard she tried to stay still but couldn’t.