The Truest of Words

by Georgina Guthrie

  “Me too,” I breathed.

  “Not sore anymore?” he asked, cupping me gently.

  “No.” I lifted my hips to meet the light pressure of his fingers.

  “This was a good song choice,” he whispered grinding against me in time with the music.

  All I could manage was a throaty moan. His kisses and caresses were soft and slow, but my responses were frantic and eager. I was so done with foreplay. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. He looked up at me, just breathing. Waiting.

  My initiative seems to be lagging? I’d give him lagging initiative.

  I placed his hands above his head. “Don’t move.” I slid my fingertips down his arms.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he wrapped his fingers around the corners of the pillow above his head. I leaned to kiss him, angling my hips just so and sliding against him.

  “I can’t wait,” he groaned, balling his hands into tight fists and arching his hips as I moved. “Don’t make me wait…”

  I considered doing just that. After all, he’d made me wait for the stupid sheets. But what was the point in punishing myself as well? So, I guided him inside me, sighing as we melted together and shifting my hips to accommodate his movements.

  He sucked in a long breath. “Oh, Christ, Aubrey…You’re so…fuck…”

  I rocked, slipping my hand between my thighs, already eager for release.

  “You’re seriously trying to kill me,” he said, watching my fingers, his voice sexy as hell.

  I took in his lidded eyes and beautiful lashes, consumed by the way his tongue teased at his lip. His hands clenched and unclenched above his head.

  I circled my hips, holding him deeply inside me, anticipating the imminent rush of pleasure. He urged me on, his hands sliding up my legs. Within seconds, my body was buzzing with relief, and I fell forward onto his chest.

  “That didn’t take long,” he said.

  I sighed contentedly. “I was so ready for that.”

  Daniel smiled and took my face in his hands, devouring my lips. He grasped my hips, pushing me hard against him over and over again, our bodies perfectly in sync. I leaned in, the heat of his chest intoxicating against the coolness of my breasts.

  “I don’t want it to be over—” he gasped “—but you feel too good…”

  And then he was gone, lost in his own moment of bliss. He held me close, and I stayed still and quiet for a long time, my face nestled in the warmth of his neck. His heart beat steadily under my hand as we lay there, the music and our breathing the only sounds in the room.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered at last.

  “I’m more than okay. I’m fucking spectacular.”

  I rested my forehead against his, loving him with every fiber of my being and wishing I could stay folded around him like that forever. Sadly, my thigh muscles were seizing up, making another minute unlikely, never mind forever. I needed to move, but if I rolled onto the bed, I’d make one hell of a mess on the freshly laundered Egyptian-cotton sheets—a dilemma indeed.

  And so I did the only thing I could do—I eased myself out of his arms, and quickly performing what felt like a very awkward double toe loop off the bed, I dashed toward the bathroom, certainly a less-than-graceful exit. But really—was there a graceful way to deal with the inevitable post-coital wet spot?

  “Where are you going? Canoodle your way back here right now,” he said.

  “Just a sec. I don’t want to splooge on the sheets.”

  He laughed and mumbled to himself as I closed the bathroom door, cleaned up, and washed my hands before returning to the bedroom. I reclaimed my panties and scooped up his discarded T-shirt, both of which I pulled on as I headed for the front hall.

  “Now what are you doing?” he called out. “You’re supposed to want to snuggle after sex!”

  I grabbed Daniel’s copy of The Gardener from the front hall and rejoined him in bed where he was now sitting up against the pillows, the top sheet covering him.

  “I thought we’d snuggle and read at the same time.”

  “Oh, I see. In that case…” Daniel handed me a sausage-shaped cushion.

  I curled up into his side.

  “Can you find me the original of the poem Neruda translated? The one I put to music for you?” he asked.

  I flipped to the thirtieth verse and watched his lips move as he read the poem to himself.

  “That’s it exactly. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection between the two poets. I was so fixated on finding a Neruda poem that had something to do with a sunset that I had blinders on. What else would you recommend?” He scanned the index.

  “Read the opening dialogue to get context,” I suggested. “We should read it out loud. You be the servant, and I’ll be the queen.”

  “There’s typecasting.”

  I slapped his arm. “Don’t be an ass. You’re ruining the snuggle.”

  “Sorry. Your humble servant begs your forgiveness. Please go ahead.”

  “I can’t. Your line is first.”

  “Oh, right, so it is.” He closed his eyes and pursed his lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting into character.”

  “Oh, forget it.” I laughed, moving to sit up.

  “No, come back, I’m sorry. I mean it this time. Here goes.” He cleared his throat as I settled onto my pillow. “‘Have mercy upon your servant, my queen!’”

  He angled the book so I could see the page. “‘The assembly is over and my servants are all gone. Why do you come at this late hour?’”

  “Huh. And here I thought I came too early.”

  “Daniel, would you focus?” I laughed, redirecting his attention to the page.

  He smiled, and we continued reading. When we reached the bottom of the page, I waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be reading ahead, processing the next passage. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

  “‘Make me the gardener of your flower garden.’”

  “‘What will your duties be?’”

  “‘The service of your idle days. I will keep fresh the grassy path where you walk in the morning, where your feet will be greeted with praise at every step by the flowers eager for death.’” He turned the page quickly and finished the remainder of the servant’s speech.

  “‘What will you have for your reward?’” I read.

  He took my hand in his as he spoke the next passage.

  “‘To be allowed to hold your little fists like tender lotus-buds and slip flower chains over your wrists; to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the speck of dust that may chance to linger there.’”

  “‘Your prayers are granted, my servant, you will be the gardener of my flower garden.’” I closed the book. “Well?”

  “Wow.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it. The imagery…the emotion…and this servant is my kind of guy. If only you were as accommodating as his queen.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He says he wants his duty to be the service of her idle days, and she agrees, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I want to do for you. If you’ll let me.”

  “Sailor, you can service me any day you please,” I said.

  “But first I have to wait for you to get home after being tortured by Elaine Armstrong, right?” he whispered against my lips.

  I braced myself for another lecture about the futility of hanging onto my job, but it didn’t come. Instead, he kissed me and rubbed his nose against mine. “So, what are we going to do for dinner?”

  “I said I’d cook for you. Any requests?”

  “Would you make me a risotto? It’s your specialty, right?”

  “I make a kickass risotto, but I doubt you have the right ingredients.”

  He looked affronted. “Sure I do.”

  “Arborio rice and porcini mushrooms?”

  “Okay, I don’t have t
he right ingredients.” He looked at the clock. “I don’t feel like shopping now. We could shop in the morning and have risotto tomorrow night. Assuming you’ll be here tomorrow night. I guess I shouldn’t be presumptuous…”

  “I’d love to make you dinner tomorrow.”

  “Okay, good.” He smiled and drew me close. “Why don’t we grab dinner out tonight? There’s an Oyster House a five minute walk from here. We can find a quiet corner to disappear into.”

  “Or we could order a pizza…”

  “That doesn’t sound very glamorous,” he said.

  “I don’t need glamor.”

  “Maybe not, but you do seem to be enjoying these Egyptian cotton sheets. You went to great pains to protect them from the…What was it you said earlier?”

  “The splooge,” I said.

  “Right, the splooge.” He chuckled. “So? Oysters? They are an aphrodisiac, right?” he said, running his finger lightly along my bottom lip. “And the ones at The Oyster House are spectacular…”

  “Aphrodisiac. Right.” I smiled, nipping at his finger playfully. “Get dressed, Daniel. We’re going out.”

  Chapter 3

  A Thing in Rhyme

  When shall you see me write a thing in rime?

  (Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act IV, Scene iii)

  JULIE YAWNED NOISILY into the phone. “Are you sure I didn’t wake you up?” I asked.

  “No, I’m up. I’m…” She yawned again. “Shit, sorry, I’m so wiped. The run of this show is killing me. Hey, are you calling me from work?”

  “Sort of. I’m going to Starbucks to get Elaine Armstrong a frigging cup of coffee.”

  “Can’t you make a pot at the office?”

  I put on my best officious voice. “You can’t be serious. I couldn’t posssssibly let that sludge past my teeth.”

  “Oh no. Total bitch?”

  “Epic bitch. I don’t think she hates the coffee as much as she hates me.”

  “How can she hate you? She doesn’t know you.”

  “Whatever. I’m just smiling and nodding, and it’s making her crazy. She doesn’t know how to react.”

  She laughed, but then quickly changed the subject. “Soooo…your email yesterday was sadly lacking in details about, you know. Spill, woman.”

  “A lady never kisses and tells…”

  “Bullshit, Aubrey. Talk!”

  I smiled at the sidewalk. “Well, he’s amazing.”

  “Obviously! How’s the cottage?”

  “Beautiful. Huge. Ridiculously huge, actually.”

  “Crap, I can’t wait to see it! And the shmexy times? How is he?”

  “Beautiful,” I said, still smiling like a moron.

  “And ridiculously huge?” she prompted.

  “Julie!”

  She giggled insanely. “I’m kidding.”

  “I should hope so, sicko. But, yeah, he’s amazing. And funny and sweet and romantic and sexy—”

  “And you’re head over heels in love.”

  “Completely.”

  She sighed. “Me too.”

  “Yeah? Things are good with you and Jeremy?”

  “Oh, hellz yeah.”

  “Look at us, eh?”

  “I know. Crazy. So, Daniel gave you a key? Are you moving in?”

  “No, but he wants me to feel free to go over, even if he’s not there. I stayed over the last two nights.”

  “Is he easy to be around?”

  “Totally. We’re in this little bubble right now, but we mesh well. Sometimes we sit and read, or he plays guitar for me. He works on his thesis, and I hang out and write. We went out for dinner on Monday, but yesterday we took turns cooking for each other. It’s good.”

  “How was going out for dinner in public? Weird?”

  “We’ll both be a bit freaked out until convocation. We went to this quiet oyster bar in the Distillery District.”

  “Oysters, huh? That’s disappointing.”

  “Why? They were great.”

  “You’ve only been doing the horizontal hustle for five days, and you’re already using performance enhancing foods? That’s lame.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Look, wingnut, I’ve gotta go. I’m at Starbucks. I’ll be in residence for a bit later on if you want to give me a buzz. I’ve got laundry to do and stuff. I hope Daniel doesn’t wig out if I decide to stay at Jackman tonight. I want to catch up with Matt and Jo.”

  “I’m sure he’ll understand. If I don’t catch you this aft, we’ll talk later in the week, okay?”

  “No worries. I’m excited to see your show, by the way.”

  “Aww, thanks. It’ll be great to have everyone there.”

  We said our good-byes, and I joined the ridiculous line for over-priced Starbucks coffee. Then I returned to Vic where I spent the remainder of my mind-numbing shift stuffing hundreds of envelopes with convocation invites.

  Elaine didn’t stay in one place for longer than five minutes. Throughout the morning, she circled the outer office like a piranha looking to feed, talking into her Bluetooth constantly. Most of the time it looked like she was talking to herself. Watching her yammer away to nothingness gave me the willies. I stifled a shudder every time she passed my desk.

  Her calls were mainly personal, her gossipy whispers not nearly as discreet as she must have thought. With each trip past me, her eyes swept across the desk as if she was waiting for me to screw up. What could I possibly botch? All I was doing was sliding invitations into addressed envelopes. I took the opportunity during one of her circuits away from my desk to find my own invitation. Seeing the words Victoria College Convocation above my own name made graduation real. Feeling remarkably proud of myself, I slipped the invitation into my envelope and popped it into my purse.

  At eleven twenty-five, just as I was contemplating leaving, Elaine glanced at the clock. Prepared to be dismissed, I gathered up the remaining invitations.

  “How far did you get?” she asked.

  “I finished the Js.”

  “Would you stay until twelve and try to get the Ls finished? There are more important things for Gisele to do this afternoon.”

  I thought about refusing, but I smiled sweetly at her instead. “Anything to make Gisele’s afternoon easier.”

  “Good. And leave the front door unlocked. I’m expecting someone.”

  She disappeared into her office and pulled the door halfway closed behind her while I reclaimed the pile of invitations. I didn’t want to be here longer than necessary, but I’d be damned if I’d let her think she was inconveniencing me. As I worked, I tried not to keep checking my phone for messages, but it was futile. I’d peek at it every few minutes, and there would inevitably be some random message from Daniel.

  Sometimes it would merely be a passing remark:

  Remind me to arrange to borrow

  Brad’s pickup truck to get the boat. -D

  Sometimes it would be a random question:

  I’m at the grocery store.

  Red Rose tea or Tetley? -D

  And sometimes his words would make me ache with the need to be with him:

  I miss the taste of your tongue.

  I can’t wait to kiss you again. -D

  At eleven forty-five, I was reading one such message when my phone rang in my hand, yanking me from my wayward thoughts.

  “Good morning, Victoria College, Dean Armstrong’s Office, how can I help you?” I said.

  “Aubrey?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s David.”

  “David! Hi, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  “Out of sight out of mind?”

  “No, of course not. I didn’t anticipate your call, that’s all.”

  He laughed. “It’s all right, Aubrey. I understand. Do you always make a habit of answering your cell phone so professionally?”

  “I’m still at work.” I laughed. “Reflex, I guess.”

  “You’re still at work? That’s why you sound dist
racted. Your mind must be elsewhere.”

  Gee, as a matter of fact, I was just imagining your son’s hands running up my thighs to touch my…um…elsewhere…

  Through the cracks between the hinges, I saw Elaine standing inside her door. She’d heard me say David’s name, and now she was shamelessly eavesdropping. God, I hated her.

  “How are things?” I asked him.

  “It’s busy. But that’s to be expected.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you over here.” I made no effort to disguise the warmth in my voice. I wanted Elaine to know how much I preferred my former employer.

  “That’s nice to hear, especially after the way things have been between us the last couple of months,” he said. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

  “Circumstances beyond our control. These things happen.”

  “You’re very gracious, as always. Listen, I thought you’d have left by now. I didn’t intend to call while you’re at work. Are you alone?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Elaine’s in the room?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “Well, it’s most likely not the best time to talk if she’s right there, but it’s a rather time-sensitive issue to discuss. You see, I have a proposition.”

  A proposition? How intriguing.

  “It’s up to you, David. I could call you later, if you’d prefer,” I said.

  Elaine was still hovering around her doorway. Nosy bitch.

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m sure I’m overreacting, as usual.” He laughed lightly. It was nice to hear him trying not to take everything so seriously. “I just got off the phone with Daniel, and he has all the details, but I wanted to extend a personal invitation. Gwen has been talking about having high tea at the King Edward Hotel for a while. I’ve decided to take her there this Sunday for Mother’s Day with the whole family. I have to confirm numbers by one o’clock. Would you be interested in joining us?”

  I put my hand over my mouth to contain an elated gasp. At last—a sign that I was welcome to join the family instead of being cast aside as a dirty secret!