Let me stress that I’d been saying for years that, although I craved male companionship, there was absolutely no way in hell I’d ever marry again.
In fact, I wasn’t even looking to be a couple. I’d been in quite a few relationships since my divorce and they all ultimately proved as thoroughly unsatisfying as my joyless marriage.
Yet there I was, not only fantasizing about sex with a complete stranger, but even more incredibly I was imagining a life with him.
Clearly, my emotions were playing tricks on me. I suspected I was getting a bit geezed and asked if I was slurring my words. My friends assured me I wasn’t and they wouldn’t lie to me.
Relying on the strength of their better judgment, I emptied the last wine bottle and joined in the discussion about dessert. Soon we were discussing the merits of every dessert on the menu with the same due diligence we’d use to choose a pediatrician for one of our kids.
Finally, we decided to order every damn dessert on the menu. We told the waiter we’d share and he graciously returned with a variety of desserts, new forks and plates, and several carafes of freshly brewed coffee.
Soon conversation double backed to sex which suited me just fine because I couldn’t get Jimmy off my mind and was beginning to wonder how the hell I was going to create an opportunity for something to happen between us when one of us started talking about her best orgasms.
The next thing I knew I was announcing in the loudest voice I’d ever used that there was absolutely nothing I enjoyed more than oral sex and it was suddenly excruciatingly obvious to all of us that the restaurant’s background noise had greatly dissipated. Most of the diners were now gone, there were far fewer shouts of “Opaah!” and the Zorba the Greek music was reduced in volume.
My emphatic “I love oral sex!” reverberated throughout the entire restaurant and for one godawful second we all froze in horror and then simultaneously burst into riotous laughter. Therese was in the process of throwing back a shot of Ouzo when I made my stunning admission and the damn Ouzo went up her nose and left her gasping for air.
“Goddamnit!” she snorted in pain, “You never want alcohol and licorice up your nose!” which is most certainly a statement no sane person could argue with and it made Gail cry out hysterically “Oh my God! I’m gonna’ pee…” as she bolted to the Ladies Room.
Doreen was insisting it was possible to laugh hard enough to crack a rib, which she insisted she had just done, when an ear shattering, thunderous noise ripped through the restaurant and reverberated off the walls and floor.
We looked at each other and the other diners and everyone asked “What the hell was that?”
The restaurant was immediately rocked by another massive “Kaboom!” and the lights dimmed and our wine and water glasses shook ominously.
More booms followed in rapid succession; each one seemed closer and more terrifying. We actually ruled out the possibility of thunder because no one had ever heard thunder sound that horribly loud. Perhaps they were gas explosions?
“My God,” Sue asked to no one in particular, “what the hell is happening?”
Several diners ran to the front of the restaurant and we watched Gail leave the Ladies Room and join them. We waited rather anxiously for her to return and tell us what the hell was happening.
She was back at our table in a few minutes.
“Guys, I just watched the news in the bar and we’re in the middle of one hellacious, deadly thunderstorm. It’s massive. All of northern Illinois is under a tornado watch and tornadoes have been sighted in Cook, DuPage, Lake, and Will counties. Also, a lot of Chicago’s streets and neighborhoods are flooding. It’s a very serious storm.”
We looked at each other and understood: The party was over.
Doreen slapped the bill on her credit card and said “let’s get out of here.” The rest of us tossed down piles of cash for our incredible waiters and we scrambled to the front of the restaurant where the remaining diners were waiting for the valet service to bring them their cars. We waited for our cars in silence and watched the rain flood the street in front of the restaurant. The wind screamed in such fury that the building groaned and we all wisely stood at a good distance from the windows.
I said it looked like a hurricane was slamming into Chicago. Everyone agreed. Lightning bounced around us; police and ambulance sirens wailed and the thunder continued to explode overhead. Someone muttered “Damn, it sounds like a war zone out there” and everyone agreed with that too.
Then the lights went out and restaurant employees scrambled to light candles.
I had a 60 mile drive home and Doreen wanted me to stay at her place, which was nearby. Sue, Gail and Therese offered their homes too; their drives were all considerably less than mine. I’m a fairly intrepid traveler and I’ve driven in all kinds of terrible Midwest weather so I decided to risk it.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be fine” I was saying quite stupidly, “I really think I’ll be fine…” when all of a sudden Jimmy was next to me.
Without any shyness, hesitation or apology, he slipped a strong arm around my waist and announced “No, you will not be fine. You cannot drive in such a storm. It is impossible.”
He pulled me closer and looked down at me. “Pleeze,” he said, “I do not wish you to go into such a storm. Do you understand?”
My friends stared in utter astonishment – all the more so when I patted him on the chest and said, as if I’d known him all my life, “Thanks honey, but I can drive home just fine. Really, I can.”
He replied in a firm but kind voice, “No, it is not possible. You do not understand: I will not allow it. I will not allow it.”
It’s true: he actually said “I will not allow it.”
None of my friends had a clue what to say, not even Doreen. All eyes were on me.
Jimmy’s arm never slackened; he continued to hold me tight. He looked at my friends and his gaze was steady and determined. He repeated to them exactly what he’d already said to me: “I will not allow it.”
He said it with such leadership and finality that it left my friends flabbergasted. We’re not the kind of women who take kindly to being issued orders – especially by men we don’t even know.
Not knowing if they should be outraged, fearful or compliant, my friends searched my face for direction. A sense that something was happening that was possibly larger than life, mysterious, and remarkably romantic prevailed so they bit their tongues, kept their claws retracted and waited. The call was mine, and mine alone, but I knew they would back me up with a vengeance if they heard me tell this guy to go to hell.
So, there we stood for a suspended few moments in time, faces illuminated by candlelight and sporadic flashes of lightning: the five of us who’d known each other for forty-plus years and one foreign-born man none of us knew from Jack… but who had just firmly and resolutely announced he would not allow me to leave his restaurant in the storm.
I slipped an arm around Jimmy’s waist and, now intertwined, rested my head on his chest and looked at my friends and smiled.
They understood and so did he.
Jimmy repositioned his arm from my waist and placed it protectively over my shoulder; then he tucked me under his strong arm like a big bird would tuck a chick under its wing.
Naturally, my friends wouldn’t leave without having the last word.
Sue spoke for everyone when she glared at Jimmy like a cold-blooded sociopath and said in no uncertain terms, “We know who you are. We know where to find you. If anything happens to our friend we will hunt you down like a rat in the street.”
It made perfect sense to Jimmy; he would have expected nothing less.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy walked me through the dark, empty restaurant to a table against a wall. He lit several more candles and poured wine.
I learned his baptismal name is Dimitri, which is James in Greek; he learned I am Catherine.
“Catherine…ah, Catherine” he repeated my name several times. “I li
ke Catherine very much.” Jimmy explained my patron saint was St. Catherine of Alexandria and Ekaterini is Catherine in Greek.
“It means pure” he said as he picked up my hands and brought them to his lips. “But some say Ekaterini could also derive from Hecate, the mythical Greek goddess of magic.”
He overturned my hands and blew on my palms. “I think, Ekaterini,” he said confidently, “your magic is pure and sweet.”
Under the circumstance, being compared to a saint known for her purity seemed a bit of a stretch so I suggested I might have more in common with Hecate and teasingly whispered, “I’d like to show you some of my magic.”
“If you could turn me into anything you want with your magic, Ekaterini, who or what would you change me into?”
It was such an odd question. “I don’t want you to be anyone but you.”
“How can I please you then?” he asked. “Right now. Right here. What can I do to make you happy?”
“Where do you live? Can you take me there?”
“But of course.”
~ ~ ~
Jimmy owned the entire building housing his restaurant. He turned half of the living space into rental units and the entire top floor into his own luxury apartment. His apartment was huge; a modest suburban home could fit in it nicely. The electricity was still out so he gave me a tour by candle light. He had created a sanctuary for himself filled with fine art, a vast collection of books, and tasteful furniture; it was truly a sophisticated and cultured home.
He lit more candles and we stood together in front of a large picture window overlooking Chicago. Powerful, jagged arcs of lightning tore through the dark stormy sky and the sharp crackling noises of lightning continued to compete with the deep reverberating booms of thunder.
Jimmy wrapped himself around me like a cozy blanket.
“I’ve hated thunderstorms for a very long time now,” he whispered.
His voice trailed off and we stood in silence for several minutes.
“When I first saw you, Ekaterini,” he continued, “I wanted you. I felt you sexually. You are a very sexy woman. We shared lightning between us. Do you understand?”
I understood completely.
“Then came this storm and very real lightning. It made me want you in another way too. Does that sound strange?”
It was hard to know what was strange and what wasn’t anymore.
“The storm changed everything,” he said. “Tomorrow might have changed everything in its own time for us but tonight the storm changed everything immediately. Do you understand?”
I had to admit he was losing me.
“I wish I could tell you in Greek.” He sounded exasperated. “I speak my heart better in Greek.”
I understood Jimmy first thought in Greek and then translated his thoughts into English. I admired him for that since I’m a person who barely survived high school French and sometimes I don’t do so well in English, my native language.
I’m always impressed with anyone who speaks a second language and I understood that he wanted to express something very important and was afraid he’d be misunderstood. I encouraged him to take his time. It didn’t have to be perfect.
“I demanded you stay for your own safety but I do not know why…” he started to say and then stopped.
Several seconds later he pressed on, “No, that’s wrong, Ekaterini, I do know why, I know exactly why but it makes no sense because old fears will not make more bad things happen. It is just superstitious, do you understand?”
I didn’t have a clue what he was trying to tell me.
“Do you know the expression ‘lightning doesn’t strike twice’?” he asked.
Of course I did.
He sighed and held me tighter. “I thought about that expression many times tonight as I looked at you in my restaurant. You hit me like lightning, Ekaterini. It’s been a very long time since any woman hit me like lightning…”
He hesitated and added, “sexually… I mean sexual lightning.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
He continued, “The storm came and I understood many other meanings. Lightning can strike many ways.”
I told him I understood, but I really didn’t.
“Ekaterini, it is OK if you do not want me… you know, want me as a man.” His voice was incredibly sad and full of longing.
“I demanded you stay because I knew, and I do not know how I knew, I cannot explain how I knew, that you must not go into this terrible storm tonight. Now I think maybe I was confused. Do you understand?”
I finally admitted I didn’t understand.
“You were meant to stay with me tonight, but maybe you were not meant to be in my arms tonight,” he said. “Do you understand? Maybe the lightning between us was to get my attention, to get your attention, to keep you from being in the real lightning but not to put you in my arms.”
“Do you really believe that?” I asked.
“No, probably not.”
“Why can’t it be both? Why can’t I be safe from the lightning outside and enjoy the lightning between us too?”
“Yes, I suppose it could be both. Yes.”
“Well, then, let me ask this: Do you want me in your arms tonight?”
“Of course.”
“Then listen to me, Jimmy: I most certainly want to be in your arms tonight. I definitely want you as a woman wants a man. Do you understand?”
~ ~ ~
Jimmy took my hand and walked me into his bedroom. He disrobed me slowly and gently in the soft glow of a dozen flickering candles. I stood mesmerized as he carefully unzipped my dress and let it fall to my ankles. He steadied me as I stepped out of my dress and kicked off my heels. He studied me in my bra, panties and thigh high nylons; he twirled me around like a dancer and then pulled me into himself and kissed me passionately. He nibbled my lips teasingly and placed kisses on my chin, over my neck and across my shoulders. His powerful hands fondled my rump and pressed me tightly into him.
He removed my bra by sliding each strap sensually over my shoulders and his lips followed the straps as they slid down my arms. When he finally liberated me from my bra he cupped my breasts in his hands and playfully juggled my pearls between them. The pearls shimmered in the candle light and picked up the rosy glow of my flushed flesh.
I watched fascinated as he held my pearls between his teeth and tossed them over my shoulder. It was exactly as I had imagined.
Exactly as I had imagined.
He looked up at me, eyes twinkling, and whispered, “I like pearls very much. Naked ladies wearing only pearls are most sexy. How did you know, Ekaterini, to wear pearls tonight?”
Jimmy lavished his love on each of my breasts, stopping once to look into my eyes and ask “Does this please you? Do you like me to suck your breasts?”
I whispered a throaty “Oh God yes” and wove my fingers through his thick hair. I kissed him back with my own aggressive kisses and plunged my tongue deep into his mouth and ran my hands all over his body.
I crawled up his body like a cat in heat; I clung to him in frustration as his hands followed the contours of my body and explored every inch of me.
“Jimmy, please take me to bed.”
He scooped me up and gently placed me on his bed. His hands caressed each nylon covered leg, stroking me from foot to thigh. He slowly peeled off my nylon stockings and rubbed his face in the curve of my feet and sucked my toes. He bent over and walked his tongue over my thighs all the way to my lace panty, which he pulled off with his teeth.
Jimmy did things to me I only imagined possible. No other man had ever so completely savored every part of me. He kissed and nibbled and sucked; the stubble of his beard rubbed against me in a way that absolutely took my breath away. I’ve never had such orgasms; they rolled over me in pounding waves and lifted me up with powerful contractions. When he inserted his fingers into me his eyes popped at what he felt. “You are so strong!” he said in wonder as my body pumped his powerful hand.
>
I held his head and we stared into each other’s soul and then he inserted himself in me and our eyes popped in ecstasy as my body clamped around him and held him tight. I slowly began to massage him rhythmically toward his own explosion. He closed his eyes and threw back his head and I knew he was ready but I commanded, “Jimmy, open your eyes! LOOK AT ME!”
I wanted us to look into each other’s eyes because I wanted us to always remember what we saw the very first time we came together.
Jimmy pounded himself into me until we both gasped and he exploded inside me. He filled me with such intense heat it caused me to have another series of powerful contractions and Jimmy rode them with me and whispered “Good! Ekaterini good!”
Our eyes were wide open.
~ ~ ~
The power was on when we woke many hours later but it wasn’t needed to see each other because a bright sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows. We looked into each other’s eyes and studied each other’s face. It was the first time we’d seen each other in natural light.
He was far more handsome than I had thought. I picked at the flecks of gray that sprouted up in his morning beard; they matched the subtle gray that wove through his black hair. He buried his scruffy stubbly face into my neck and I protested vehemently; in retaliation I pulled out a few gray chest hairs. He slapped my hand gently and growled, “Ouch! That is a very bad way to treat your lover!”
I wondered how I looked after such a long and astonishing night of lovemaking but apparently fared well because after staring at me for a few minutes he kissed my nose and said “Ekaterini, you are truly an exquisite woman.”
~ ~ ~
Jimmy saved my life in several ways that strange, dangerous night in his Chicago restaurant.
He saved me figuratively. He made me a full woman; not just a fuck partner but a real lover. I think it’s a miracle because before I met Jimmy I’d given up hope of ever loving a man again. I had especially given up all expectation of being loved in return.
Jimmy also saved me literally by refusing to let me leave the restaurant in that treacherous storm. It’s fairly certain I would have been killed when the deadliest tornado to ever tear through northern Illinois totally destroyed my house, shattering it into matchsticks and dumping almost everything I owned somewhere in Wisconsin.
Pearls for Jimmy Page 2