by Leslie Pike
My HBO deal, the new friends, the countless new experiences, all played second leads in the story of my life. He was the star. He is the star.
And no plot twist in our story is capable of making me forget that. No other handsome face, or beautiful body, will tempt. No other man is made of the nameless element of which he is made.
And nothing is more divine than the love I feel for him.
It rises above all accidents of fate. And in the coming years, when all the gifts of youth are gone for us both, that love will survive. I know it with certainty.
I’m about to take the roast out of the oven, when Steven walks in from the bedroom.
“Do I have time for a shower?”
“Yeah. You have about ten minutes. I’m going to let the roast sit.” He looks me over. I’m wearing his favorite long soft dress. In other times, he would have been glad it was so easy to remove.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
I smile, and appreciate this compliment more than any he’s ever given me. It sounds like the past.
“Thank you. I know you like this dress.”
“I do. Ok, I’m going in.”
And he leaves.
I busy myself with the things a cook has to do to make every dish ready at the same time. The table is set, in celebration of the celebration. I can hear music coming from the bathroom. That’s nice. He hasn’t been interested in music for weeks. Too many I’m going to fuck you all night long references.
I’m carrying the wine to the table, when I hear him call me.
“Bliss! Come here for a minute.”
I put down the wine, and make my way to the bathroom. He’s dimmed the lights, as he always does when he showers. But it looks especially romantic tonight for some reason. I guess I’m apt to see romance in everything now. I’ll have to learn to appreciate those little things all the more.
Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett sing their sensual version of “But Beautiful.” I’ve never connected with a song more.
Steven has his back to me, head under the streaming water, and his hands against the tile.
“God, this feels good.”
“That’s just what you need. Relax those back muscles.”
I don’t want to stare, but damn, he looks so beautiful. I know that may be an unusual word for describing a man, but it’s the right one. His frame, and the muscles that have been built over the years, it’s so beautiful. The tattoos, and that ass. Oh stop it. You’re just torturing yourself.
“What do you need?” I say.
He doesn’t lift his head out of the stream of water, or put his hands down.
“Can you get in here, and wash my back? I need a little help.” What?! I didn’t expect this.
“Of course.”
Does he expect me to get in nude? I’m not going to ask.
In a blink, my dress is on the floor. He doesn’t look. I understand. But at least he’s going to see me naked when he turns around. Baby steps.
I get in, and take the soap and mesh bath sponge. The water is warm, and he leans forward a bit so I can get a splash over his head.
“Use your hands,” he says.
“What?”
“Just soap your hands, and wash me that way.” Oh my God.
I do as asked.
The music plays.
He stands perfectly still, and waits for my touch.
When hand meets skin, I feel that same jolt I felt the first day we met.
I caress his shoulders and neck. I glide my hand down his spine, and over the small of his back.
“That feels good. I’ve got such an ache.”
“Do you want me to get you a pain pill when we get out?”
“I haven’t had one of those for a week. And why would I want a pain pill?”
“Didn’t you just say your back ached?”
“It’s not my back that aches, Bliss.”
I sense it before I see it. Like an animal senses the coming earthquake.
He turns around and smiles.
I look down.
There, standing proud, is the most impressive erection I’ve ever seen. It’s a thing of beauty. A contender for the hard on hall of fame.
And now, what I’m feeling can’t be described with words.
I can see there’s no words for him either.
There’s only gratitude and blissful love.
I reach out and touch him. Just to make sure it’s real.
“Let’s go to the bed.”
“Let’s.”
We go to our bed, wet and dripping water everywhere.
Our bodies remember every sacred path to ecstasy.
And on this night, every fairytale comes true.
You never know when life’s about to bless you. I understand now, that unexpected blessings are the very best. The ones that happen despite all evidence and all likelihood to the contrary. When you are certain you’ve lost something wonderful, and then it’s given back. It’s so emotional.
Destiny threw us a lifeline, and we say goodbye to the darkness.
The New Year for us officially starts at eleven in the morning.
We finally got to sleep at one, and didn’t wake up for ten hours.
All anxieties, and every twist in our story, ironed out in one magical night.
We weathered our storm, and even though our ship was tested it held together. Now what we are as a couple is made stronger. There’s no denying that.
And it’s undeniable that we should be together.
We’re just being lazy, curled up in our bed. I can’t think of a compelling reason to get up.
Steven has me in his arms. He picks up my hand, and kisses it.
“Hungry?” he says.
“Maybe a little. You?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a little picnic planned.”
“Really? When did you do that?”
“Yesterday. Get dressed.”
He pops out of bed, before I have time to think. The way he did it with such ease, tells me his back is completely healed.
And I love that he planned this without my input.
He’s very good at that. Romantic.
We both shower and dress. More than once, I try to start something only he can finish. But he playfully puts me off. What’s up?
When we’re both ready, he grabs a picnic basket from the pantry and packs it with supplies he had hidden in the refrigerator drawer.
“Very clever, Mr. French.”
“I’ve got some moves, you know.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he says.
We load the Cobra with the picnic basket, and get in.
“I’m excited,” I say.
“That’s the state I want you in. Always.”
We laugh at the thought.
We pull away from the house, and move toward the gates. The ocean’s so beautiful today. That deep blue, with white caps. It’s brisk weather, but the sun shines brightly. How happy I am.
Steven pulls onto the streets of Pacific Grove. Almost immediately, I figure out where he’s going.
“Do you know where I’m taking you?”
“I’m not sure. Is it a special place? Is it my touchstone?”
He laughs.
“You’re way too smart for my undercover moves.”
It takes only a few minutes, and we’re there. Alisomar Beach.
The familiar yellow signpost brings back memories of our first day together. Our first kiss, our first time making love, the cove, and the deserted stretch of beach.
How were we to know it was the beginning of our life’s love story?
Today is equally breathtaking. A little colder, maybe by five degrees. But the sea greets us with her welcoming waves. I think she waited for just this day to look so spectacular.
“Steven, you couldn’t have chosen a better spot. Thank you, darling.”
I see his smile, and I know why this face is my favorite face of all the faces.
“Come
on, let’s go down to our spot,” he says.
We get the basket out of the trunk, and he grabs a blanket too.
We walk down the path onto the sand.
We’re alone here. As it should be.
He takes my hand in his.
When we get to the place in front of that cove, he stops.
“This is it. Remember?”
“Remind me.”
And he does. He takes me in his arms, and kisses me as if he’s just discovered heavens angels are his to kiss.
But it’s me who finds paradise. It exists within his arms.
There are two rocks within the cove. A small pile of stones, and sea glass and shells separates them.
Steven spreads the blanket in front of the rocks so that we each have a place to lean against. He helps me down, then takes his place next to me.
He opens the picnic basket, and removes a bottle of good champagne and two crystal flutes.
“Very nice. You really put a lot of thought into this.”
“Only the best for my girl.”
But he puts the bottle and glasses down.
He takes my hands in his.
He just looks in my eyes. I let the moment be still. Something tells me to let this moment be about more than words. And when it’s about words, to let him speak uninterrupted.
The wind in the cove whistles that familiar tune. Otherworldly.
“Bliss. Even your name brings me joy.
Because of you, I know paradise isn’t just a concept. It’s real.
I want to be with you today, and tomorrow and all the days of our lives. No matter what they bring. I love you. Deeply. You’re the one.
And so, in this cove, with just the wind and the sea as witnesses, I’m asking you the most important question of my life.”
I am holding my breath in wild anticipation.
He reaches over to the pile of sea glass, and seashells, and takes the most beautiful shell from atop the grouping. He turns it over. Inside is a diamond ring resting on a bed of dark blue velvet.
“Will you marry me, Bliss?”
I don’t hesitate with the answer.
“Yes, Steven. I will. I will so happily call you husband.”
This moment holds all the blessings and grace that exist.
It’s as if the atmosphere of Eden has just sighed in satisfaction.
Leslie Pike lives in Orange County, California, with her husband Don, and Pom-Poo Mr. Big. Before writing her novel, Leslie worked as a screenwriter on episodic television. She has traveled the world with her Stuntman/Stunt Coordinator/Director husband, on movie sets from Africa to Israel, from New York to Los Angeles. Some of her favorite things include calligraphy, long walks with her friends, and enjoying delicious food that other people have cooked!
The Trouble With Eden is Leslie’s debut novel.
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TSU
The writing of a novel begins long before the first word is chosen. For me, it started as a young girl. I wrote a “book” when I was about ten. I think it was twenty five pages long. Five of those pages still sit in my office, as talisman and encouragement.
My book was about a young girl, who was spending the summer at her family’s beach house. There were friends and rivals, laughter and tears, and anchoring the story was a romance. There was a golden boy my protagonist loved. In my ten year old mind, that boy was every bit as appealing as any character a novelist could create.
Now, all these years later, it’s not difficult to spot the irony. I think we all are drawn to our passions early. I guess I’ve finally finished my story. My mother used to tell me “Leslie, you wrote a book!” And that motherly exaggeration made me believe I did, and could do.
So my first acknowledgement is to my mother, Emile Furtado Gonzales. Her example of womanhood and love has inspired and schooled me. I carry her love with me always, and I hear her whispering in my ear, encouraging me every day.
My niece and godchild, Lara Petterson, is the next person I want to thank. If it wasn’t for her saying “Auntie, you should write a book!” it may have taken me years to discover this joy. As a screenwriter, I may have put off trying my hand at what turned out to be a most fulfilling creative experience. So thank you, Lara, for your dedication and wealth of knowledge, when it comes to the world of erotic romance. She guided me through the labyrinth of details and data you must know, to have the greatest chance at success. And if I do achieve it, I’ll know that it was in part because of Lara’s work and devotion. She’s been by my side every day of this journey, calming and encouraging me. I know it’s just the beautiful beginning for us.
My sister, Cathy Ross, is a constant and reliable sounding board, advisor and source of inspiration. I thank her for her unfailing loyalty. She never makes me doubt myself, or my work. Her critiques are well thought out, and always on target. I trust her with my life and with my secrets. I’ve been so blessed to have her as sister and best friend.
And now I come to my beta readers. These woman provide such an invaluable service to writers. Some are authors themselves, others voracious readers. A writer needs readers who are not tied to us by familial or emotional relationships. Someone who can offer impartial opinions, on content and characters. It’s crucial to know our weaknesses, as well as our strengths.
These are the women who treasure reading, and storytelling. These are the women whose impressions I listen to. So, my sincere thanks goes to Cara Arthur, Amy Broom, Danita Bunce, Tami Jacobi, Audrey Kay, Keshia Langston, Lara Petterson, Cathy Ross, Tara Ross, and Jamee Wick.
These women showed me the way these last months. I am a babe in the erotic romance woods, and I have been helped all the way through by people I hardly knew. A special thanks to Cara, Tara, Jamee and Keshia, four gracious and giving women who just gave a hand up to the newcomer. How encouraging their kindness has been.
Christine Borgford, of Perfectly Publishing, was patient and professional in her handling of a new author. We are so unaccustomed to the details involved with getting our book to the readers, but she never made me feel like I was asking too many questions!
Kara Hildebrand was a life saver. As my Editor, she was the one who polished my story and proved the saying, “God is in the details.” Thank you so much, Kara. You took a writer from panic to peace.
My final acknowledgment goes to the man in my life, my husband Don. He has supported my writing in every way. Whatever I believe I can do, he believes. That is no small thing. I’m crazy in love with him, and have been for decades. He is why I can write so confidently about love. He has been my teacher. He was my inspiration for Steven. Yes, I’m a lucky, happy woman.
“Gorilla” Bruno Mars
“The Very Thought Of You” Paul McCartney/Tony Bennett
“Skylark” Renee Olstead
“Close The Door” Teddy Pendergrass
“Blurred Lines” Robin Thicke/Pharrell Williams/T.I.
“I Want You, I Need You, I Love You” Elvis
“Rolling In The Deep” Adele
“Piece Of My Heart” Janis Joplin
“Use Me” Bill Withers
“Bring It On Home To Me” The Animals
“Isn’t It Romantic?” Tony Bennett
“The Best Is Yet To Come” Tony Bennett
“Uptown Funk” Bruno Mars/Marc Ronson
“Hey Girl” Billy Joel
“Through The Fire” Renee Olstead
“Love By Grace” Lara Fabian
“But Beautiful” Lady Gaga/Tony Bennett
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