Tempted

by Cj Paul

  That was my morning. How’s yours going? ;)

  “Claire...Claire! I said I’d like more orange juice.”

  “I’ll get that for ya, Mamma Eden,” David offers.

  “No no, David” (which she now pronounces ‘Dahveed,’ trying to sound Italian). “You’ve done enough. Let Claire help for once. She’s got nothing more exciting going on anyway.”

  Chapter Twenty-EightThe progress on David’s houseboat is going much more slowly than he was told to expect. He feels awful about imposing, but I don’t mind at all. Frankly, I anticipated this happening. I’ve done my fair share of remodeling, and the contractors took exactly three times longer than they promised on their children’s lives. Besides, it’s fun having David here.

  He needs to make another three-day trip to San Jose, and though I offer to lend him my car, he prefers to get a rental so as not to inconvenience me. Mom is not at all pleased about David’s absence, and has conveniently come up with a variety of flimsy excuses as to why she can’t come over during the next few days – not until David returns. Even the menagerie seems out of sorts with him gone, and I’ve a good mind to put them all in the washing machine if they don’t shape up. I seem to be the only one enjoying the house without David, as it has given me some lovely, distraction-free time with Alex.

  The first night alone is almost eerily quiet. The autumn leaves are rustling and every little sound makes me think someone is lurking outside. I get that familiar feeling I’m being watched, but now it feels disconcerting. I ask Alex to stay on the phone with me till I fall asleep. He gently suggests that this might be a good time to videochat. After all, we’ve never talked face to face, even virtually.

  I am in awe of his love and devotion to a person whose face he has never even seen. Though I want to move to a ‘next level’ in our relationship, I’m still not ready for the whole video situation. I just want to enjoy the good thing we now have going a little longer.

  The first night David is gone, Alex and I get into a philosophical discussion, waxing profound on topics ranging from the meaning of life and quantum physics to sex fantasies and my admission to wanting to be dragged by the hair into a Neanderthal’s cave.

  The second night, he conducts a cookery tutorial with me by phone. He fell into cooking in his early teens when the chef at the restaurant where he worked pulled a prima donna and walked out. Next thing Alex knew, he was wearing a white hat, and by the time he turned the ripe old age of fifteen, he was head cook and running the kitchen. Later, he used his culinary skills to put himself through college. And as his Facebook posts bear out, he has a way of making even meatloaf sound like an exotic, orgasm-inducing delicacy.

  The third night, he reiterates that he loves me, in no uncertain terms. He tells me of his ongoing search for The One, and that I am she. He paints an idyllic picture of our possible life together and begs me to come to New York to be with him. He says he would come out here in a heartbeat were it not for his kids. I explain that I can’t leave my mom, not while she’s on this earth. He quips that if one were to do the math, Mom will leave this earth long before his kids, who are ages ten and fifteen. Thus, I should plan on going to him when Mom one day moves onto greener pastures. Clearly, he doesn’t know Mom. I have no doubt she will outlive us all, even the cockroaches!

  Aside from navigational negotiating, I am euphoric during our hours-long, late-night conversations, reveling in Alex’s every honey-dipped word and becoming intoxicated by what I perceive as his absolute perfection. I beg him to divulge at least one fault he possesses, just one. He good-naturedly guffaws at the suggestion that he’s perfect. Our talks become more intense and romantic and I know I’m beginning to really fall for this man, crazy as the whole thing sounds.

  For the third night in a row, I fall asleep on the phone with him. It’s comforting and sweet, and I cannot fathom going to sleep without him ever again. Next morning when I turn on my computer, I find a message so earnest, honest and unabashedly candid that it overwhelms me with humility and a torrent of grateful tears.

  7:44am

  Alexander Armstrong

  You asked me again, “What are your faults, Alexander?” And I could tell you little things like ‘Brussels sprouts make me gassy' or 'I snore' or 'I have a small, bizarre bald spot,' or ‘I have a vestigial tail.’ But that isn't what you mean, and if you cared about such things, I'd be disinterested in you to begin with. The fact is, I feel as blessed as any king who’s ever ruled.

  I care not at all about dying, and so I fear nothing. Or at least, I fear nothing that might befall me. I care nothing of material things – I can live off the land, and happily so, if need be, and at times, I prefer that lifestyle. I care nothing of women – I've known beautiful women, savored their bodies, and even if I can count them on one hand, I understand and have experienced the allure of the flesh, and it doesn't command me in the least.

  But you, Cariña, you've slipped into my heart and mind and soul. You've awakened me in a way I never could have even imagined, not in a million lifetimes. You ARE perfect, in every way, exactly as you are.

  It breaks my heart to ask you to leave the land you love. But I promise, with everything that I am, that you will NEVER regret coming to me. There are only two things that bind me in any way to anything at all – my children, and now, you. I've enjoyed perfect freedom. I never, ever would have thought I'd find a woman who could do to me what you've done.

  I want my true love. The ONE. You. I may not be worthy of you. But I'll use all of my considerable strength, all of my boundless love, all of the powers I possess to have you. I shall have you. You will come to me. I'll take you, heart, mind, soul, body. And because I love you, and perfectly so, I would never, ever even ask you if I were not POSITIVE that your coming to me, with me, wouldn't enrich you in a way that you'd never find elsewhere. I love you too much for my pride and arrogance to overcloud your best interests. But I AM your best interest. I know this because I know my heart. And you know this because my heart lies in your palm. You will have me. And I shall have you. Together, we'll be perfectly free, and soar to heights unknown. So when I call, you MUST come. There IS no choice. Love commands.

  Right now, you're resting in Elysiac fields. Later, I shall find you there. I have you, wrapped safely in my arms. I shall command you. But my command will be only this – be happy. Bend to me and let me show you the meaning of bliss. I love you. Smile, because the One has found you and will never let you slip away, not for a second, not even an inch. I've got you.

  I'll not say more until the time is right. But when it is, I will bring you to me, and you will come.

  I shall convince you.

  This is not a question, or conjecture, but fact.

  You see, Sugar, the word 'convince' comes from a Latin term meaning 'to conquer.' That, Love, is what WILL happen. I shall conquer you. As formidable, as free, as brilliant as you are, I shall conquer you.

  Goodnight, my love, my Cariña, my ONE.

  “Honey, I’m home!” David says as he joyously bursts through the front door, sporting his trademark dazzling smile. He plants a playful kiss on my lips and twirls me around in a bear hug, only putting me down to show me all the gifts he’s brought back for Mom and the menagerie, and me.

  Chapter Twenty-NineDavid is bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm. His meetings in San Jose went incredibly well and, more importantly, he has prime seats for the hockey team’s season opener, tonight! This time, David is driving to the arena, in his new car! One of his cash cows finally yielded its milk and now he’s flush. He offered to get out of my hair and stay at a hotel now that he’s got his money back, but I told him I wouldn’t hear of it. He was thrilled and has been spoiling all of us, Mom too, ever since his return.

  Behind the wheel of his off-the-showroom-floor, deep Imperial Blue BMW M6 convertible, he is like a kid blowing out his birthday cake candles – all wide eyes and smiles. We make it to the arena in about half the time it took us on our last outing. We arrive
well in advance of the game, with enough time to find our VIP seats and amass as much junky concession food as we can carry. Plus, David buys us an obscene amount of team merchandise, so we are more or less walking advertisements for the organization – jerseys, hats, rally towels, bumper stickers, horns, you name it. We look ridiculous and couldn’t be happier.

  After conducting a thorough evaluation of the foodstuffs, we determine that the chili cheese dogs may be the best in history, and that we need two more, each, in order to make a proper and unbiased determination. I ask David for his drink order while backing into the aisle, and I accidentally collide with another patron, one who is carrying a tray full of drinks that are now all over his Izod sweater. I turn to apologize profusely, but am too stunned to speak.

  “Why don’t you look where you’re...Claire?” Bret mutters, his hands dripping ice and cola on the ground between us. I manage to blurt out “I’m sorry,” and offer to replace the drinks. Opportunist that he is, he doesn’t hesitate in accepting my offer.

  We walk to the concession stand together, awkwardly trying to make conversation, Bret dripping and sloshing all the way. After a sentence or two, we have nothing to say. He asks about my love life, which I imply is wonderful. I couldn’t be happier with the way things are going with Alex. I can tell Bret thinks I mean David. I ask how he and his brood are doing, sincerely interested and hoping to hear of white picket fences and family picnics. The truth of the matter is that Bret’s wife took their toddler and their newborn and moved back in with her parents. Bret has just managed to have the restraining order lifted – God only knows what he did to warrant a restraining order – and he will soon be able to see his children again, when supervised by a social worker, of course.

  While the concessionaire pours drinks that are the size of my bulldog Persephone, Bret scours the menu and decides to add a few things to the order that I’m paying for, and he does so without asking. We walk back to our seats, laden with an impressive array of artery-clogging snacks. He has drinks, candy, pizza, and soft pretzels with mustard. I have four magnificent chili cheese dogs, all with mounds of extra chili. As we near our seats, I try to come up with something positive to say, some well-wish or words of wisdom to end what I hope is our last conversation.

  Upon returning to our seating area, we find the aisle crowded with unattended youngsters and I have to wait for an impressively robust couple to get out of their seats and into the aisle before I can scooch down the row. David acknowledges Bret with a friendly, “Hey, how ya doin’?” and a smile.

  Bret sees fit to return, “Smile while ya can, Buddy. Your girl Claire here is frigid and a real ball-buster. You’re gonna need your right hand and lots of baby oil if you plan to date her.”

  I make my way down the row to my VIP seat in serene satisfaction, with Bret’s curses and threats rolling off my back. Poor man was somehow knocked into again and his preppy sweater is once more doused in soda. And this time, his designer jeans are smeared in chili and cheese – extra chili.

  Woops again. My, but I’ve become clumsy.

  Chapter ThirtyWhen my kundalini first stirred, I vowed I would never be locked into a routine again. But, oh, how I love the pattern my life has taken – domestic bliss with David, erotic ecstasy with Alex, family harmony with Mom, and warm fuzzies with the menagerie. Life is really good. And what’s more, I am really happy.

  This afternoon, when Mom excuses herself to powder her nose after an especially brutal assault on my character, David asks me what’s going on. He says I just sit around in a dreamy haze while my mother hurls verbal grenades at me. This seems as good a time as any to tell him about Alex. When I do so, a momentary pall casts on his sunny face, but is gone just as quickly. For a moment, I think he’s jealous. But that moment passes.

  * * *

  A few days later, David and I are having a giggling fit over some nominally entertaining viral video on Youtube, when I get a call from Mom’s senior housing community. “Hello, Miss Eden? This is Delores Feldman, Head Administrator at Redwood Meadows. Your mother has taken a fall.”

  “You mean she’s fallen and she can’t get up?” I reply, sending both David and myself into new peals of shameless laughter.

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  Suddenly sober, I listen intently to all Head Administrator Feldman has to say. Mom took a nasty spill and her hip and knee are a mess. She needs care and they are not equipped to look after someone so...so... They don’t know quite how to put it, but I get the picture. She’s demanding. David suggests she come stay with us, here. I choke on my tea and my life begins to flash before my eyes. He volunteers his room and vows to look after her personally. He says it’s the least he can do, yada yada.

  “C’mon. How bad could it be?”

  I balk.

  “It’ll be fun!”

  I guffaw.

  “Just leave everything to me.”

  He does have a point. Mom is putty in David’s hands and behaves like a calm, little lamb for him. This just might work.

  I hear the car pull up with Mom hooting and hollering in glee, having just made the trip with the top down in David’s uber cool M6. I come out to greet her and suddenly she is all aches and pains and woe-is-me’s. David puts a stop to the nonsense quickly, telling her to play nice, and whaddaya know? She does!

  As days turn into nights, then weeks, Mom is in high spirits, but it’s clear her health is deteriorating. It’s hard to watch, but I am grateful that her autumn days are being spent with love and laughter. She’s even fallen prey to the charms of the menagerie, especially Daphne. She now refers to the critters as her grandchildren, going so far as to posting images of them on Facebook and carrying their photos in her wallet.

  David now sleeps on the couch in the family room. That room has seen more action the last few months than the whole time I’ve lived here! Sometimes I just sit and watch him sleep. He really has been a Godsend, and I’m crazy about him.

  Lately, his time on the couch has been diminishing – ever since I told him about Alex, coincidentally. He often goes out for the night after Mom has fallen asleep. With whom or where, I have no idea, but all signs post to booty calls, plural. I’m less than thrilled, though I know it’s none of my business. It’s not that I’m judging him. It’s just that I can’t take the idea of random women having their hands on David. I know how unfair this feeling is, especially when I have Alex. But, I am confused and befuddled, and so I determine to adopt Scarlet O’Hara’s ‘I’ll think about that tomorrow’ attitude.

  As for Alex, he’s been quiet the last couple of weeks while busy with his kids and lots of activity with his own parents, sisters and brothers. Theirs is a large family, and the month is full of birthdays and anniversaries and other excuses to get together and cavort. We talk and text and message when we can, which hasn’t been as often as I’d like. This evening, after a lovely day of collecting brightly colored leaves around the grounds for Mom, a tradition with her from my youth, I settled into bed with a touch of melancholy. Alex had spoiled me with so much attention that I have come to not only appreciate it, but, well, expect it. And frankly, I miss it. We had a brief and most licentious phone conversation the night before, in which I graphically explained to him exactly how I wanted to fall asleep at night. Tonight we’ve not been able to speak due to family obligations on his part, but he does manage to send me a goodnight message.

  10:38pm

  Alexander Armstrong

  Last night you mentioned how much you wanted to go to sleep with me inside you. I loved it, of course, when you first mentioned it. And now, pondering it further, I must say, the thought of falling asleep inside of you, and I CAN feel you, is so wildly erotic and sensual to me. Not because it's my ‘penis’ inside you, like some sex thing mainly. But because it's so perfectly intimate. A sweet, simple, physical connection of two lovers, falling asleep together as close as close can be.

  I think most people would see your suggestion, your request, as naughty.
But I know you. And though I know there is of course the erotic element of that posture – falling asleep inside of you – it's the exact opposite of naughty. It's absolute innocence, a sort of perfect hug. And it's the combination of that sweet innocence and your willingness to express your love so purely and honestly, with all of you, that I find so incredibly attractive…among others things, countless other qualities you radiate.

  Make no mistake, I AM going to bang you off of every fucking wall and piece of furniture in the house, and maybe even a few trees during our walks in the woods – because you're wicked sexy hot. I don't know how exactly to say what I'm trying to say. Just the thought of you does lovely crazy things to my mind and heart and soul and body. You, Cariña, are a goddess. I have such humble admiration, and so very much respect for you. God shines through every aspect of you. You’re brave and youthful and bold and vulnerable and playful and open and honest and loyal and trustworthy and compassionate and understanding and sweet and innocent and loving and generous and wise and magical and simple and infinite and perfect.

  It will take me a lifetime to even begin to express why I love you. But I promise, I'll do my very best to keep trying, again and again, every day, forever. I hope to see you soon, in my dreams. I pray for that each time I try to fall asleep. But right now, I am going to slip inside of you, snuggle my chest against your back, feel your chilled feet seeking warmth in my heat, put my face in your hair, wrap an arm around you, so that I can rest my hand on your heart, and feel your breath, as you drift into sleep with me. Goodnight, my Love. I love because you ARE love. Sweet sweet dreams. And I shall speak with you in the morning.