The Exile

by Gregory Erich Phillips

His hand touched her cheek then her neck beneath the fancy jewelry. His fingers moved lower, tracing the neckline of her dress. That was when she realized the right straps of her dress and bra had slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t try to pull them back up, but her heartbeat quickened. Ashford helped it farther down her arm, folding her dress and bra down and taking her breast in his hand. It was shocking to feel his warmth against her there. She relished his courage. It made her tingle everywhere. She wanted more.

  He had removed his jacket. She tugged at his bow tie and undid it, then undid the top few buttons of his shirt. She kissed his neck, lingering by his collarbone as she took in the delicious scent of him, which she had first noticed the night they danced together and again when she greeted him earlier that evening. She could feel him hard against her. She fought against the abandonment of desire.

  She stopped herself from unbuttoning his shirt any further and hugged him tightly against herself. “Hold me like this for a moment.” Her heart was binding itself to him. She could feel his love. It was beckoning her to plunge in with him. She had to be careful, or her heart would be lost. She pushed him up so she could look into his eyes.

  “I want you so bad, but not here. Not like this. You said you love me. I need you to prove it.”

  The wrong kind of man would have taken it as a rejection, but Ashford grabbed her cheeks and kissed her. “That’s all I want.”

  She was aware of his eyes on her as she pulled the side of her dress back up. His gaze made her feel shy but also beautiful. Also aroused.

  “We’d better get back before we’re missed,” she said.

  He picked his bow tie up from where it had fallen on the green tiles. “Do you know how to tie one of these?”

  “No. Did Samantha tie it for you?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d better learn how.” She stood up and draped it, untied, around his neck. “You’ll look good wearing it like this at this stage of the evening. It’s sexy.”

  She took a business card and pen out of her clutch. She circled her cell number and drew a heart next to it. “I’ll go down first and head toward the parlor. You go back the other way, to the bar.” She pressed the card into his hand. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”

  She kissed him one more time, then placed her finger against his lips, smiling broadly. She dashed out of the room.

  14

  ASHFORD DID CALL Leila the next day, and every day from then on.

  He took her out, first to coffee, then to dinner, then out to the night clubs on Saddlebag Trail. She invited him to a bachata and cumbia lesson, and they danced at a Latin club. She made sure they went to a club Jen and the other girls didn’t frequent. They made sure that their dates stayed secret. The only way they could ensure that Samantha didn’t find out was not to tell anyone.

  Leila loved the feeling of being courted, but she was still hedging her bets with Ashford. As she got to know him better, she learned that his kindness was real. Maybe he was naïve, but at least he wasn’t jaded by love. He was eager to give, eager to serve. He would be a good nurse, she knew now. She had judged him harshly at first. He would be a good boyfriend too—if she let it come to that.

  Business slowed sharply for Leila and for the whole office. She didn’t mind at all, even though several others grew nervous, particularly Dennis and DeShawn. Leila still had a few loans closing each month, which was plenty. It was nice to be able to leave a little early and not feel pressured to come in on the weekends. It gave her more time to spend with Ashford.

  He also had plenty of time on his hands. He was working as an intern at the university hospital while looking for a permanent nursing job. Until he got one, he wouldn’t be able to afford a place of his own, which he assured Leila was an urgent priority.

  Leila savored those weeks, feeling warm in her heart and content. Ashford was so much fun to be with. He made her feel beautiful and cherished. She wanted to take things slow and enjoy this time when dating felt so easy and fun. She knew the easiness couldn’t last. She wouldn’t have wanted it to. If Ashford was right for her, then it would have to grow more serious and then they would have to face the consequences of their romance.

  He was head over heels for her. She had been worried about her own heart being broken. If she ended things now, it would be his heart that would break. She didn’t want to do that to him. But neither did she owe him anything. She still had to take care of herself first.

  In October, Samantha was asked to speak at a west regional convention of subprime mortgage lenders in Los Angeles. As the leader of a still-thriving independent mortgage brokerage, it would be her job to dispel the larger investment banks’ fear that the subprime mortgage business had begun to implode. She would be gone three days.

  Ashford asked Leila to come over on Friday evening when Samantha was out of town. He would cook her dinner. They could swim.

  It felt wrong somehow, but the idea of the secrecy tempted her. And why shouldn’t she go? It was his home too. He had the right to invite over the girl he was seeing. She accepted.

  What should she wear? What should she bring? She couldn’t be so presumptuous as to pack an overnight bag, but she wanted to have all her necessities available if she did end up spending the night. She never liked being caught in a situation unprepared. She tried to get ready before leaving for work that morning, but she couldn’t decide what to wear. Instead, she left the office early to change and freshen up. She wore shorts and a pretty yellow top that she would feel okay about wearing home the next day if she had to, and stuffed her largest purse with her swimsuit, a change of underwear, and all the toiletries she might need.

  She drove up to his house—her boss’s house—later than he was expecting her. He greeted her at the door with a happy kiss, not seeming to mind her tardiness. His face was smooth and soft, clean-shaven for the evening.

  “How about a swim before dinner? It’s beautiful to swim here while the sun is setting.”

  “Is that what you do with all the girls?” She smiled to let him know she was joking, even if she was curious.

  “You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought here. My mother is a difficult person to bring a girl home to.”

  “I can imagine.” She believed him, and that felt nice.

  Leila looked out toward the low sun against the mountains. She was savoring each moment. “We met over a sunrise. Now a sunset. I like it. I’ll go change.”

  This was the kind of night she had been waiting for. She may have been at his home, but she felt comfortable and safe—as in control as would ever be possible at this early time with him. Unlike those rushed, reckless moments at the gala, tonight she thought she knew what she could expect. She needed that to feel relaxed.

  In the bathroom, she put on her black bikini. She had been in this bathroom before, at Samantha’s parties. She took an extra moment to get her bearings and assess where everything was. She pulled her hair up high on top of her head. Hopefully, she could keep it dry during their swim. Otherwise, it would go everywhere.

  She rehearsed her smile once in the mirror and looked at herself. Jen was right—she should wear this suit more often. It did favors for her that bikinis didn’t usually do. As long as she breathed from her chest instead of her stomach, she looked amazing. She walked out and met Ashford by the pool.

  She smiled at him, then walked down into the cool water and swam forward with her head above, in the warm air. He unbuttoned his shirt, kicked off his sandals, and did a full dive in toward her. She bobbed in place until he came close, then reached out her hands to him. He held them and pushed away from her, pulling her after him in the water. They came to the far edge of the pool, looking west over the valley. The sun had just started to dip behind the mountains. They leaned over the rim and watched until it disappeared, turning everything in its vicinity golden. In the foreground, the palm trees looked black, each trunk and frond creating crisp lines as if drawn in pencil against the clear sky. The mountains on the horizon made
a dark rim of the western sky, which went from bright yellow, rising to pale blue, and, higher still, darkening and filling with more stars until directly above and behind them the color went deep navy.

  Leila pushed back from the edge. Ashford swam beside her. She fell toward his body, inviting him to wrap his arm under her lower back beneath the water as she put her arm around his shoulders. He carried her that way, slowly, in wide circles around the pool. She placed her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and content.

  “Ashford, I want you to make love to me tonight.”

  He smiled at her with his gentle eyes. She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him. As she reclined against him in the water, she felt him getting excited. Now that she had said it, she didn’t want to wait any more than he did.

  She swam away from him toward the steps and got out of the water. She dried herself off with the towel he’d brought for her, then untied her hair and shook it out. She started toward the house, smiling back over her shoulder.

  Was it so bad to want to be touched, to want to be loved? He had told her he loved her. Was it so wrong to want to find out if he had it in him?

  The doors from the pool were flung wide open, bringing the dry night air into the house. The tile of the patio continued past the glass doors, into the spacious, open kitchen and dining rooms to the right. To the left, the sitting room looked out over the valley.

  Ashford dried himself off and followed her in. When he reached her, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled her upward and toward him, caressing her mouth with his own.

  She took half a step back, reached behind and untied her top, letting it fall to the floor, then pressed herself into him again. His body had warmed faster than hers after the swim. She savored his warm skin against her cool, damp breasts. She closed her eyes as his tongue responded to her kiss. His mouth was sweet, inviting.

  Leila stepped back again, then untied his wet shorts and pulled them down. With her hands on his sides, she guided him toward the nearest couch and pushed him down, sitting on top of him and pressing herself against him as his hands and lips explored her body. Grabbing her hips, he flipped her over on the couch and pulled off her suit bottom. The plush couch was cool against her back.

  She put her hand on his chest. “Darling, do you have a condom?” She had brought some in her big purse but didn’t want to admit it to him unless she had to.

  “Yes.”

  He got up and walked away from the couch. She watched his firm behind and the arch of his lower back. What a gorgeous man. He only disappeared for a few moments, returning with four Trojans connected on a line.

  “You have high hopes for tonight.”

  He laughed, nervously perhaps, but he still carried himself with confidence. She felt so sexy lying there naked with him looking at her, desiring her.

  She had half-expected him to be a hesitant lover—a boy lacking experience. But so far, he seemed like a man who might be able to handle her. She was about to find out and could hardly wait to know.

  He tore a condom off but didn’t unwrap it. He kissed her again, then let his hand run across her neck and slowly over her breast and stomach until it rested against the wetness between her legs. Her insides roiled with every touch of his body against her skin, his lips against her neck, his hand between her legs. She was aching for him.

  Leila’s entire heart and body went out to Ashford as they made love. She was no longer afraid, despite all the obstacles in their way. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to stand on the precipice and then dive into this love, without hesitation or regret. She was offering her heart as a gift to him; it was his to do with what he would.

  When it was over, Ashford smiled down at her, his body slick with sweat. She bit her lip with pleasure.

  “Stay inside me for a moment longer.”

  He did make love with confidence. She already wanted more, but considering how long she’d made him wait, she wasn’t surprised it had been short. She would get hers soon enough.

  They had plenty of time, all the time in the world, even forever, she hoped. But she wouldn’t say that to him yet.

  They lay together on the couch in an intimate embrace. Leila had never felt so happy. They might never have moved if both of their stomachs hadn’t started to grumble. Leila laughed. “You invited me for dinner. I suppose I should let you make it for me.”

  She put back on the clothes she’d arrived in and sat at the kitchen bar top watching as he boiled pasta and made an olive oil sauce. He served it with sliced chicken he had grilled that afternoon over a bed of arugula. It wasn’t a complicated meal, but Leila was impressed. She didn’t recognize a few flavors in the sauce; it tasted fresh and new. She wondered if his knowledge of local plants and their uses extended to his cooking. Hopefully, he would cook for her often.

  They talked and laughed late into the night. She helped him wash the dishes, and then they sat back down on the couch where they had made love. Leila felt their bond growing stronger with every hour. She chose not to be afraid.

  At midnight, they made love again. Then she pulled the blanket off the top of the couch and slept there naked, with her back to him and his arms wrapped tightly around her. The doors were still open to the warm night. Even when the cool night breeze came in, she felt warm with his hot body behind her, touching every inch of her backside. She fell asleep in the comfort of his embrace.

  Leila awoke with the sun on her eyes. How good it felt to wake up in someone’s arms. It amazed her how well she had slept. No unfamiliar noises woke her during the night. Ashford was apparently not a snorer, thank God.

  It was starting to get hot. She rose from the couch and walked to the double glass doors, pausing for a moment with the sun warm against her bare skin, then pulled the doors shut. The air-conditioning came on automatically, triggered by the closing doors. She picked up Ashford’s shirt and buttoned it up halfway, glancing down at him, still asleep but beginning to stir.

  She opened several cabinets until she found the coffee. She started a pot. Before the smell of the coffee flooded the room, she could smell his scent still on his shirt. The front flaps brushed against the bare skin between her thighs, where every nerve had been awakened.

  As she walked back to the couch, Ashford opened his eyes. She sat down and smiled at him. He reached up and touched her neck, then caressed her breast through the thin shirt. She was tingling and had to have him again. She pulled his shirt up over her head. She pulled the blanket off of him and straddled him. Reaching back to the side table, she unwrapped a condom and put it on him. It fit tightly.

  She guided him inside her, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. She grabbed his hands and put them on her ass, showing him how she wanted to be loved. “No, there, let me lead. Yeah, that’s it. Right there.”

  She moved herself on top of him, making him find all her spots. Her body welcomed him into her, joining his flesh to hers. This time, it was she who didn’t take long. She screamed with delight. Her own pleasure brought him there with her until he joined her in climax. She fell onto his chest. He grasped her, still pulsing.

  Something had happened inside her. It felt like the whole world shifted at that moment.

  She sat back up, slid herself off of him and reached to remove the condom. She gasped again, this time with dread. A chill ran through her as she clapped her hand to her mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “Shit.”

  He looked down and saw the broken condom.

  Leila hurried to her feet. “This is bad, Ashford.”

  She gathered up her clothes and rushed to the bathroom. She leaned forward on the sink counter for a minute. She knew where she was in her cycle. Maybe that explained why she had wanted him so badly, but it was stupid, stupid not to think of that. When she came back, Ashford was standing by the couch in his shorts looking bewildered. She didn’t want to tell him about the strange feeling inside of her. It wasn’t something she could explain. But sh
e thought she knew what it meant.

  “I’m not angry at you. It’s not your fault. This has been wonderful. But I need to go home. I need to be alone right now.”

  He reached for her hand. For a brief moment, she resisted, but he grasped first one hand, then the other with such strength that she relaxed. His touch assured her. He lifted her chin to make her look in his eyes.

  “Leila, whatever happens, I’m here for you now. I’ll protect you and take care of you. Don’t worry about my mother or anything.”

  She forced her breath to steady. “Months ago, you promised me you wouldn’t break my heart. I need to hear it again. I need you to really mean it.”

  “I promise. I love you. I will never hurt you. I will never break your heart.”

  Leila believed him. As she looked at his face, the tears that had been on the verge of falling dissolved in her eyes.

  She fell against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. There was safety in his embrace. Suddenly, it was the only safety she had, and she needed to trust it. All the security she had built around her life had been lost. Such was the price of choosing love.

  15

  “TELL ME THE story, Manny. How did you pull it off?”

  “It was a great day for the people, young revolucionario. Tomorrow will be another, and you will see the power of justice with your own eyes.”

  Daylight had been slow to reach through the moist foliage to light the rebel camp. Only thirty miles outside of Bogotá, the jungle was thick. They had been here for almost a week. Word was this would be their last day waiting amongst the mosquitos and beetles in sweat-soaked green fatigues. The time for action was coming.

  Manny poured himself another cup of coffee from the battered tin pot, then tipped it across to his companion’s cup. “Have you ever shot that gun of yours, San Juan el Bautista Velasquez?”

  “Only in practice. But I’m ready.”

  “You’d better be.” Manny looked at the boy with his thin frame, skinny arms, and hairless face. How old could he be—seventeen? He wondered if he could even lift his gun. Manny decided to treat the child like the man he would need to be.