Isn't It Time

by Graham, Susan J.

  His hand stopped moving on my back and I felt his lips leave my hair. “Wow,” he said. “I have a lot of questions about all of that. But first, tell me – did you wash the bird poop out of your hair?”

  I started to laugh through my sobbing. I pulled my face out of his tee shirt and pushed him lightly on the shoulder. “Yes, you ass.”

  I returned my face to his chest, now giggling and crying at the same time. I felt his lips on my head again and he said, “Come on. Let’s get you straightened out.”

  “But all my stuff is still in the car,” I whined.

  “I’ll take care of it. But first, couch and some tea?”

  “Okay,” I agreed with a sniffle.

  “And maybe some tissues?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

  “Okay,” I said again - and took my nose out of direct contact with his shirt.

  He pulled away, took my hand and led me through the kitchen to the living room. I toed off my shoes and sat down on the end of the couch with my legs curled up under me. Jack pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, shook it out and settled it over my legs.

  “Do not move. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned seconds later with a box of tissues, which he set on the table beside me. “Is it peppermint or chamomile for cramps?” he asked.

  “Chamomile. The peppermint is for when I overeat.” I pulled a tissue out of the box and wiped my eyes, feeling like an ass. “I feel like an ass,” I told him.

  “Don’t feel like an ass. Sit tight; I’ll start the tea and get your stuff out of the car.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Anything for you.” He leaned over to plant another kiss on the top of my head. I grabbed his hand, gave it a grateful squeeze, and then he was gone.

  I used another tissue to blow my nose, then leaned my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes. I could hear Jack in the kitchen, opening and closing a cupboard, running the water, starting the microwave.

  I had the random thought that if I was ever fortunate enough to find another man like Jack, I would marry him in a heartbeat. I felt more tears well up at that but wasn’t sure why. I helped myself to another tissue and wiped my eyes, feeling more wretched by the minute.

  I heard him leave the house and a minute later my car door slammed and he came back in. By the time I heard the microwave ding, I was back to unexplained, all-out sobbing. I was feeling such an overwhelming sense of despairing loss, and it all centered on Jack. I couldn’t get it under control and it didn’t even make sense. Stupid hormones.

  Jack came back into the living room with a mug in his hand. That concerned look returned to his face as he took in my renewed tears. He set the mug down on the table and sat down next to me. I unfolded my legs to make room for him and he put his arm around me, pulling me in close. Burrowing into his side, I wrapped one arm across his stomach and held on tightly. And cried louder.

  “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” He laid his cheek against my head and wrapped his other arm around me.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, noting his use of “baby” which he had never done before. I was usually “honey” or sometimes “sweetheart” – but never “baby”. Maybe it was because I was crying like one. “I just have this really weird feeling going on. Like…like I’m losing you. And I just can’t handle that.” I squeezed him again and cried harder.

  He went still and briefly tightened his arms around me. He lifted me away from his side and looked into my eyes. “Angie, listen to me. You are not losing me. You will never lose me. I will always, always be here for you.” He ran his thumbs under my eyes, catching the tears. “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Jack. Ignore me; it’s just the hormones talking.” I shuddered out another breath and felt a few more tears escape.

  “Don’t ever apologize for how you feel. It is what it is. Now, sit up and drink your tea. I’m going to get you a pillow and some ibuprofen. I think you’re in need of a long nap.”

  “I think you’re right.” I sat up and gave him a weak smile, tossing my tissue onto the growing pile on the table.

  He got up and was again heading out of the room when I stopped him. “Oh, I almost forgot. My mom sent something over for you. It’s in the top container in my tote bag.”

  He turned around and looked at me. “Is it something with sugar in it?”

  I nodded and gave him a small smile.

  “Is there any chance it’s something that’s made with cereal?”

  I nodded again and my smile turned into a grin.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed with a fist pump. “God, I love your mother!”

  I laughed and settled back into the couch with my tea. When he returned he was juggling a small pillow, the ibuprofen, a bottle of water and his plastic container of treats. He tossed the pillow to me then set everything else down on the table on the other end of the couch. He opened the water and handed it to me, along with two ibuprofen tablets, before sitting back down. I dutifully took the pills and returned the water to him.

  “Are you done with the tea?” he asked.

  “Just about.” I finished the last few swallows and handed him that, too. Why I didn’t set it on my own table, I don’t know. It just seemed like he was the man in charge – and someone else in charge was exactly what I needed at the moment.

  “Okay,” he said, putting his feet up on the coffee table and the pillow across his lap. “Lay down.”

  Unconsciousness sounded like a wonderful idea, so I got myself settled in on my unbruised side while he picked up the remote and turned on the television, adjusting the volume to a lower level.

  “You don’t have to stay here with me, you know,” I told him.

  “I know. But I want to.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.”

  “Okay.” I pulled the blanket all the way up to my neck. “Can you make sure I’m awake by 5:00 so I can put the potatoes in the oven?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are they in the refrigerator?”

  “Yes! Now go to sleep.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied and snuggled in. I wrapped my arm around his thigh, under the pillow, my hand ending up beneath his knee. I don’t know why I did it – it seemed like an intimate kind of thing to do, too intimate for the type of relationship we had - but it was very comfortable, so I left it there.

  His arm came down gently across my waist and I slipped my hand outside the blanket and took his, locking our thumbs together. I felt his fingers settle in my hair and begin a light massage.

  “I love you, Jack,” I whispered as I was drifting off.

  “I love you, too, baby,” he whispered back - and I was gone.

  Chapter 10

  “Angie.” Jack’s warm breath whispered across my ear.

  I was lying naked on my stomach, Jack’s hard body pressed tightly onto my back, covering the length of me. His fingers were loosely interlaced with my own above my head and his lips were at my ear as he pushed slowly but firmly into me.

  A deep moan escaped me as he rotated his hips with a delicious swirl on the upstroke and then quickly plunged back into my throbbing, wet heat.

  “Angie,” he whispered again. His hands released mine and moved to my shoulders, squeezing as he continued the pounding and swirling that was making my whole body tremble. I moaned again and felt my orgasm approaching.

  “Angie,” he said, louder now as he shook my shoulders. “Angie, wake up.”

  I jolted awake, disoriented, and found myself staring directly into Jack’s amused blue eyes. He was squatting down beside the couch where I was stretched out on my stomach, and his hand was shaking my shoulder.

  “Good dream?” he asked, letting go of my shoulder and grinning like a fool.

  “Oh, God.” I closed my eyes and hid my burning face in the pillow.

  “Do women have wet dreams?”

  “Oh, God,” I repeated. “Please stop talking
.”

  “No, I’m curious. And, I’ve got to tell you, I’m willing to turn over every single thing I own, right now, if you’ll describe that dream to me – in explicit detail.”

  “Please tell me I didn’t touch myself inappropriately in your living room.”

  “No, but if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

  I laughed into the pillow, then rolled onto my side and shoved his shoulder. He lost his balance and fell on his ass.

  “Pervert. Is it 5:00?” I asked, kicking off the blanket and sitting up.

  “Yeah. I hated to wake you. I mean, I really hated to wake you, but I had no idea what to do with the potatoes.”

  “No, that’s fine. I probably would have slept straight through the night if you hadn’t.” Yawning, I stretched my arms out over my head, then released them and slumped against the back of the couch. Glancing around, I noticed that the disgusting pile of tissues I had left on the tables was gone and felt a little guilty that Jack had to clean up after me.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked, now reclined on his arms with his legs stretched out in front of him.

  I considered the question as I sat back up and put on my shoes. My head was clear, the pain in my hip was gone and the cramps had lessened to a dull ache. Thinking of the cramps reminded me that I had better get up and make a bathroom trip, pronto.

  “Yeah, I think I am. Thanks again for everything; I appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” he said, standing up and grabbing my hands to pull me to my feet. “Now go make my potatoes, woman.”

  “Bossy,” I stated, sauntering to the kitchen while Jack followed.

  “Yeah, that’s what all my women say,” he laughed.

  I snorted at that as I was turning on the oven, then went to the refrigerator to retrieve the potatoes.

  “Speaking of which,” I said. “How did the date go last night?”

  “Ugh. Awful,” he groaned. “She had way too many demands and wasn’t willing to give an inch. You can’t be that demanding and be a good submissive at the same time.”

  I turned from putting the potatoes in the oven and looked at him. He appeared to be serious about that laughable statement so I didn’t laugh. Although I really wanted to.

  “No, I would imagine not,” I said with a straight face. “Well, better luck next time.”

  “Eh. You win some, you lose some.” He shrugged. “By the way, Luke called while you were sleeping. He said he’s ‘extremely hungry’, his words, so I told him we’d eat as soon as he got here.”

  “Okay. I just need to use the bathroom and then go change my stupid tire.”

  “I already changed it.”

  “You did?” I was thrilled. “You’re a doll!”

  “I know,” he said with a smirk.

  I laughed and went to dig my purse out of my tote bag. Rummaging through it, rather frantically, I discovered I had forgotten to bring extra tampons.

  “Shit!”

  “You left a full box in the bathroom,” Jack said, correctly interpreting my panic.

  “I did? Oh, thank God!”

  I spent a lot of time at Jack’s house and he spent a lot of time at mine. As a result, we both had a stash of crucial toiletries at each other’s houses. I didn’t remember leaving that particular item. But I was certainly glad I had.

  “Be right back,” I told him.

  “Okay. Do you want me to grill that asparagus?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Okay,” he said again. “I’ll see if I can find the grill pan. I’m not sure where I put it.”

  “Jack, your memory sucks. It’s in the bottom cabinet to the left of the stove – same place it always is,” I told him as I was leaving the room.

  “Thank you,” he called out after me.

  “You’re welcome,” I yelled from down the hall.

  I turned on the light in the bathroom and shut the door. Finally. Privacy. I needed to process that dream. The dream that still had me tingling. It was true that I didn’t want to touch myself inappropriately in Jack’s living room, but I was giving serious consideration to doing it in his bathroom.

  I’d had sexy dreams before, but never one so hot that I’d actually climaxed. If Jack hadn’t woke me when he did, I knew it would have happened. Damn. It had been right there. I frowned and prayed that I hadn’t been grinding myself against the couch while Jack watched.

  Wasn’t it just yesterday I was telling myself I shouldn’t argue with my subconscious? I was now willing to listen to it; I just needed to be sure of exactly what it was it was trying to tell me.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. Frightening. My makeup was completely gone, except for the remnants of mascara under my eyes. My hair had a few strange lumps in it but I was confident I could get it into passable order.

  I gathered up supplies from under the sink, rifling through my basket of miscellaneous cosmetics until I found a half-full bottle of liquid foundation, some cheap blush and an unopened package of mascara. Good enough.

  I took care of my necessary business, washed my face and hands and brushed the sleep out of my mouth. As I was applying the makeup I gave thought to restarting that conversation with Jack about the possibility of a sexual relationship. That dream had made it pretty obvious to me that something previously locked deep down in my brain had sprung free. And it was telling me loud and clear to go for it.

  Of course, I could decide to go for it and Jack might turn me down. He’d do it gently, but it would still be embarrassing. He had seemed about as turned on by our kiss as I had been. Which is to say, not at all.

  And yet, everything about our relationship screamed “perfect for each other.” We already acted like a couple that had been happily, but celibately, married for years. So why not take it one step further, lose the celibate and see where that took us? And I’d be willing to bet it would take us to a very happy place.

  I had pretty much convinced myself that I would bring it up to him later this week, when the timing seemed right, and was allowing myself the luxury of envisioning the way things might be, wondering what Jack would be like in bed. Would it be like he was in the dream, or…? I paused, mascara wand halfway to my lashes.

  Shit. I really hadn’t given any consideration to all that his sexual preferences would entail.

  That domination and submission thing. That wouldn’t fly with me. I could not and would not be restrained. I didn’t mind being bossed around in bed - in fact, I kind of liked it. And I also knew that Jack would never, ever hurt me. But I already knew any situation that would leave me feeling helpless and at the whim of someone else, even if that someone was Jack, would bring on flashbacks.

  There was a guy I had gone out with for a couple of weeks before Jimmy. The first and only time we had sex together, he had grabbed my wrists in one hand and locked them tightly above my head, holding my body immobile with his own.

  I had gone into a complete meltdown, crying and whimpering, trying to fight him off – and I may have even screamed. It was irrational and a little crazy, but there it was. Alarmed by my reaction, he had released my wrists immediately and rolled off of me. He was also intuitive enough to figure out what had triggered that bizarre display. He held me while I continued to cry and apologize. He assured me he understood and that he didn’t take it personally. He even apologized to me.

  But I was too embarrassed by the whole thing to go out with him again - which was a shame because he was a really nice guy - and after a few attempts at contacting me, which I ignored, he quit trying.

  Although Jack had said submission was only something he liked, not something he needed, he appeared to be pretty wrapped up in it. Contracts said serious business to me. And if he felt he had to give up something he enjoyed that much to be with me, I was afraid he would eventually start to resent me.

  Then I would lose him. And there was no way I was going to let that happen.

  I bent at the waist and started working my fingers through the ta
ngles in my hair. No, I was not going to do anything to change this relationship. Sexual thoughts and dreams aside, I was perfectly content with the way things were and felt it was best to leave them that way.

  I straightened up and checked my look in the mirror. Much better. And I realized I was feeling much better, too – almost completely back to normal.

  I cleaned up my mess and put all my things back under the sink. Feeling pretty good about my improved physical condition and the decision I had made, I went back to join Jack in the kitchen.

  He was just coming in the back door when I strolled in.

  “You look good,” he said.

  “I don’t know about good. Better, maybe,” I replied.

  “Good and better.” He walked over to me and kissed my cheek. I squeezed his hand then moved over to what remained of my pile of dinner supplies. I pulled out the loaf of Italian bread Jack liked and looked at it. Then I looked at it again. About a quarter of the loaf was missing.

  “Jack,” I said accusingly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to charm me with a sheepish smile. “I was hungry. I only had a couple of pieces.”

  I glanced over to the sink and saw the empty plastic container that had previously held the Rice Krispie treats.

  “You ate all of the Rice Krispie treats and the bread? Did you save the steaks, or are we going vegetarian tonight?”

  He laughed. ‘The steaks are safe. I’m just getting ready to put everything on the grill. Luke called while I was outside and said he was about fifteen minutes out.”

  “Okay, then while you’re doing that, I’ll set the table and slice what’s left of this bread.”

  Jack laughed, picked up the container in which he was marinating the steaks, and headed back to the deck. The asparagus must already be outside since I didn’t see it anywhere. Unless he ate it while I was in the bathroom.

  I quickly set the table and lined a basket for the bread with a linen napkin. I had just begun the slicing when I heard a car door slam and Jack issuing a greeting.

  The back door opened and Jack called out, “Angie – Luke’s here.”