“Look at you. You never fooled me with that arrogant façade—I always knew you were human.”
“Yeaaah? Always?”
“Well, initially I thought you were a human affront to society, but I’m incredibly intuitive. It’s a gift God gave me in place of math comprehension.”
“See ya crazy girl,” he said before reaching over to give me a quick kiss.
Yikes. Our lips slipped again. This second mouth-to-mouth was quicker than our first, but triggered identical feelings in me. I shivered. And had a strange sense that Mother’s moral radar was somehow tracking the inappropriate feelings flying through my body.
7
Some 80,000 peaceful demonstrators had gathered in Washington to protest the Cambodian incursion, and in Houston colossal clouds floated across brilliant blue skies making May ninth a lovely Saturday. Great day for a move. I intuitively knew Wesley would never bother me again. Everything just felt right—like on prom night when your lacquered beehive hairdo is impervious to humidity, gale force winds, and the ever-present idiot spewing champagne from a bottle.
Gabriel arrived at my sister’s house in an unusually cheerful mood for someone who worked all morning. My brother-in-law helped pack his truck with boxes of household items I’d bought to replace what Wesley stole, and the two chatted like military comrades who’d spent fox hole time together.
“Can’t I stay a little longer with Jimmy?” Nikki pleaded as they loaded my last box.
“Aren’t you excited to come see our new place?”
“Just one more night, Mommy. Please?”
“Okay. My lovey-dovey.” I kissed her goodbye. “Your uncle Charles is keeping my Mustang to buff out its new bumper dent, so you can stay until Kat brings me back tomorrow.”
“How’d that happen?” Gabriel glanced at it before walking toward his truck.
“My reckless soon-to-be neighbor, Delilah. She backed into us outside our complex office when I stopped to sign final paperwork.”
“Glad no one got hurt.” Gabriel waved at everyone heading back inside, and opened his truck door for me.
“Thank you.”
“Oh I’d do just about anything for a piece of ass, Blondie.”
“Stop it. The day’s too pretty for your silly vulgarities. Even the clouds look like giant scoops of whipped cream.”
“Cumulus clouds,” he enlightened. “Usually mean fair weather, but sometimes they form thunderheads when it gets really hot. Some even carry rain.”
“Thank you Mr. Wizard.”
“Anytime.” He cranked the engine, turned up the radio to Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In, and loudly accompanied the 5th Dimension.
“Sing along, Blondie.”
“Tiny Tim sings better than me.”
“C’mon,” he insisted when Smokey Robinson started singing The Tracks of My Tears.
Didn’t take much urging before I chimed in. Thankfully the windows were rolled up as we harmonized in pathetic white folk voice along with Motown greats all the way across town. With a background of great music, we discussed everything from Pan Am’s first commercial journey by a Boeing 747, to white lipstick and black lights until we reached the St. Patrick Apartments. Gabriel lugged box after box inside, hesitating only to harass me about my habit of walking on my tiptoes while I unpacked and placed my new things.
“Ay Chihuahua,” he shrieked, and dropped a box when he walked into the bedroom.
“Silencio José.” I plugged in my radio. “I like my nicely furnished apartment. It’s an eclectic mix of furniture, but at least my living and dining rooms are decorated in traditional style.”
“Nothing wrong with Spanish décor in a bedroom.” He frowned.
“Well it wouldn’t be so horrendous if I hadn’t had a moment of Andy Warhol warpism, and bought the red bedspread to accent the Spanish theme.”
“Whose huge matador wall hanging is that?”
“Told you, I was having an Andy Warhol moment.”
“You planning on entertaining Don Juan’s ancestors?”
“I’m planning on grabbing a quick shower while you grab that last box, please. I’m a grimeball.”
“Impossible. Says the worker bee to the queen.” He sailed by, his sawdust scent lingering in the air.
I took a speed shower and threw on my button down sundress before walking into the living room where Gabriel was singing You’ve Made Me So Very Happy along with Blood, Sweat, and Tears. “Group named themselves after hearing Winston Churchill use the term in one of his speeches.”
The guy was a real receptacle of musical trivia. “You’re certainly in a great mood.”
“You noticed?”
“Gabriel if you were wearing a mood ring its illumination would blind us.”
He didn’t respond and a weird quietness filled the room. The move had come to an end, and the time for Gabriel to leave had commenced.
“Well, Blondie, that’s the last box. Unless you left something at your sister’s.” He held out his right hand and briskly rubbed his thumb across the tips of his fingers.
“Circulation problem?”
“Just a habit.” He casually pulled a Marlboro from the pack and fired it up. “Didn’t we leave a box behind? Forget something at the store? New element charts. Fishing tackle. Pickled pig feet. Kerosene, mariachis, world atlas, abacus. Anything? Surely there’s something else we need to do.”
Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected was babbling.
“Guess I can call to see if Charles finished working on my car so you could take me back. Otherwise I have to impose on Katie-Laura tomorrow. She’s covering my shift tonight.”
“Uh.”
“That’s profound commentary.”
Not responding with his usual flippant retort, he shuffled momentarily at the front door when radio music got interrupted by a report about Walter Reuther dying in a plane crash. Gabriel made some comment about the UAW, and then awkwardly cleared his throat. I sat on the arm of my rented sofa and nervously scraped off nail varnish just as My Cherie Amour came across the air waves. I briefly lost my balance, but didn’t topple onto the floor. Singing along with Stevie, Gabriel walked over, stood squarely in front of me, looked into my eyes as he removed the Marlboro from his lips, and then put his hand behind his back. I shifted uncomfortably. A stream of smoke drifted up over his shoulders as he leaned forward and placed a long kiss on my lips. His lips were so soft, so warm, and so moist on mine, I melted. “Don’t kiss me that way unless you mean it.” I giggled nervously, trying to calm down. Trying to harness the feelings flying through my body. Trying to make the room stop spinning. And trying to return the atmosphere to a wholesome one. MARRIED MAN! I screamed internally.
Gabriel placed his Marlboro in an ashtray I had purchased just for him, and in a cautious voice said, “I do mean it.” His hand rose to my face and he repositioned his lips on mine.
My body trembled as goose bumps began breaking onto my inner thighs from the feel of his hand gliding across my cheek. Feeling his damp hand, I knew he was as apprehensive as me when he began kissing each of my fingers in turn. An involuntary chill swept through my body as he effortlessly swooped me into his arms, and gently kissed my lips, my nose, and my eyelids, while carrying me into my bedroom.
Everything seemed in slow motion as Gabriel placed me onto that hideous red bedspread. Feeling a blend of guilt, passion, and intoxication, I absorbed his scent like a human sponge, wanting to seize as much of his aura as possible. Through our clothing, I felt his body pulsating as he slowly moved back and forth across me, his rough and calloused hands gliding ever so gently as he unbuttoned my dress, touching, sampling, and tenderly caressing newly exposed skin. And just when he had ignited a panoply of unknown desires in me, he stopped abruptly, jumped up, and stood beside the bed. I sighed a mixed-emotion sigh, thankful he was strong enough to leave before we did anything wrong.
Gabriel pulled his T-shirt over his head, dropped it on the floor, and looked down at me. “I’m going to
savor every inch of your body,” he said almost inaudibly. Then he slipped out of his jeans and white briefs, revealing an incredibly muscular physique. This was my third sexual partner, yet the first man whose body I allowed my eyes to slowly gaze up and down, memorizing every inch. Gabriel’s V-shaped torso reflected his years of physical work, his arms and legs were sleek and sinewy, his chest almost hairless, and his belly taut. “As soon as I take a shower.” he said.
My body was still shaking when he climbed back onto the bed. His hand trembled so much when he touched my cheek, I joked about him having one of those illnesses that affect voluntary motor functions. I touched his hard edged muscles as he smothered me with kisses and wrapped his arms around me, melting into my body. With Aretha crooning Natural Woman in the background, I surprised myself by how greedily I accepted him, pulling him closer inside as quiet echoes of “Cherie” rolled from his lips. A certain sense of destiny spiraled through my mind as I drifted into Aristophanes mythical speech from Plato’s Symposium. I had found my missing link.
“Your heart’s beating like crazy. . . Or is that mine?” He gently stroked my hair. “This feels like an illusion. An out-of-control, wonderful fantasy, spilling over into reality. I want it to be and I don’t want it to be,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes searching mine.
He couldn’t shut up and I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. This man had perfectly connected all the wires to my home entertainment unit. I had been untouched until now. And what do I do during my first orgasm? I burst into giggles. They began softly, and grew louder until I was giggling uncontrollably. What had he done to my central nervous system? Gabriel’s eyes questioned my reaction as I broke into tears, then he wrapped his arms around me. “Ooooh girl, what have you done to me?”
“Whoooa,” I said in shaky voice. “What have you done to me? Here I am, the mother of a three-year-old, feeling like I finally lost my virginity. And where did those giggles come from? How embarrassing.”
“Yeah, for a split-second I thought you were letting me know I’m hysterically funny in the sack.”
“Well, funny ain’t exactly the word for it.”
“Look out Blondie, you’re startin’ to talk like me.”
We lay silently together for a few minutes, sharing soft kisses. “I need a smoke.” He climbed out of bed and walked into the living room. Tactfully leaving the scene, I presumed. But he returned and set his ashtray on the ever-so-gaudy Spanish nightstand before climbing back into bed. Lying together, we chatted about Nixon, Vietnam, flower power, and even Earth Day. But when he attempted to talk economics, I cringed. “That’s a guy thing, like politics. So pleeease keep those discussions between men friends. Do you read mythology, specifically Plato’s Symposium in which Aristophanes explains the origin of love?”
“Now that legendary ‘Split-apart’ crap truly is a girl thing—like tampons and douches.”
Exhausted and totally satiated as he lightly stroked my arm, I fell into a sound sleep. Hours later he started kissing the back of my neck, which I presumed were departure kisses. Once again I presumed wrong. Round two went even longer, and he caressed my worn-out body as we drifted to sleep for a couple of hours.
Round three. Really? No mistaking that nudge. But just as every pore of my body began blending with every pore of his, Gabriel mumbled, “God, this isn’t right. . . No, I can’t. . . Please God, don’t allow this.”
Took the snap out of my garters. I swallowed back tears, realizing this Catholic man was regretting his actions. Then he softly whispered, “Cherie, I love you. It isn’t right and I shouldn’t, but God help me I do.”
I couldn’t respond as he pulled me into his arms and began softly snoring. I slept an hour.
Awakened by the softness of his lips on the back of my neck, I realized the night hadn’t been some bizarre, incredible dream, and then the tightness of his arms around me confirmed it. A dream? Even my overactive imagination couldn’t have conjured a dream of this magnitude. Besides, my thighs and lower body were weak as I rolled over to face him.
“This is right,” he said softly.
“I know Gabriel,” I assured him, trying to shove those sneaky guilt feelings my mother had so skillfully planted, to the back of my head.
At sunrise Gabriel slid from bed, showered, and kissed me goodbye. I didn’t know where he was going, but knew he’d be back.
“Wanna do lunch before taking me for my car?” I asked Kat when she arrived.
Her normal grin went ear to ear as she walked inside my apartment. “I knew it! I knew it!” she trumpeted. “I saw the looks between you two and watched Gabe’s attitude change almost overnight. He actually seemed compassionate. Well, I guess with you he was more like passionate.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve got the look, cutie.”
“Well, unless I was having convulsions last night, I finally know what the big O is all about. Plus I learned simultaneous orgasms don’t just happen, they’re brought on by thoughtful men who hold back until you’re ready for glorious uncontrollable body spasms that leave you tingling for hours. So to speak.” I shivered.
“I’m just happy you finally had an orgasm.”
“You’re happy? Before Gabriel, I never knew what the word meant.”
“So. . .” Kat fluttered her eyelashes. “Gabe the asshole was great in bed?”
“Oh pleeeease. Even if I never see him again, he’s being listed in my will. Let’s get going and I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”
After a quick lunch filled with every juicy detail, we arrived for Nikki, but she pleaded to spend a few more days with Cousin Jimmy. I usually felt rejected when Nikki chose to stay apart from me, but today I handled it well, kissing her about a zillion times before leaving.
Around six in the evening I heard a knock and knew it was Gabriel before opening the door. Dressed in different clothing than he wore earlier, he hugged me tightly. I inhaled his woodsy scent. “Never open a door unless you know who’s knocking.” He held some gizmo in his palm. “Hell, ya never know when a deranged carpenter might be lurking about.”
“You work on Sundays?”
“Not often. But today I just had to get out of the house.”
“Oh.” My voice sputtered. The reality of him having a house, a wife, and children, resurfaced, making me uneasy.
“Where’s your mini-mouthpiece?”
“Nikki decided to stay a few more days with her favorite cousin.”
“Well, c’mon.” Gabriel pulled me into the entry foyer with him, closed my apartment door and busily installed a peep hole. “That’ll make things a little safer for you two.” He held out one hand and briskly rubbed his thumb across the tips of his four fingers as though trying to get circulation going. Then his face turned solemn. “Cherie, we have to talk. I can’t get you out of my mind. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I’m not sure how to handle what’s going on here. When I went home this morning, Astrid didn’t say a word and acted like I was merely leaving for a short vacation when I put a few clothes together.” Sadness flooded his eyes. “I just kissed my daughters goodbye, and walked out the door.”
My heart hurt for his little girls and a deeper sense of guilt unfolded. Involvement of children made our actions more injurious than reckless adultery. Shame overshadowed the wonderful emotions I previously felt.
“I brought enough clothes to stay a few days and contemplate my future,” he said shyly still standing out in the foyer. “If you don’t mind having a grouch underfoot for a few days.”
Mind? I was ecstatic. Yet at the same time feeling guilt. Homewrecker! Gabriel stood staring at me for an answer. “Just don’t interrupt me when I’m watching The Mod Squad.” I pulled him inside.
The evening began on a somber note, but turned passionate as we repeatedly made love and fell asleep in each other arms. I knew I was in love with him. It was a visceral sense that I did not question. Even knowing how great the odds were of gettin
g my heart broken, fear nor guilt could keep me from embracing this experience. Here was a man who listened with undivided attention when I spoke, even about trivial stuff, yet when he spoke, I often lost thought mid-sentence, due to memorizing everything from his head to his toes.
The following morning, I cooked breakfast while Gabriel showered for work. He thanked me for the meal, helped clear the table, and insisted we do dishes together. Seriously? A dream lover and decent dishwasher to boot?
The Jewel Box had become more tolerable after Beau deemed Kat and me as waitresses only, but returning was difficult. I asked Kat if she could handle work without me a few more days and she eagerly accepted, wanting the extra bucks. When Gabriel knocked on my door shortly before six, I met him with kisses.
“You expecting company?” He glanced at lit candles on my dining table.
“My distinguished guest just arrived.” I kissed him. “I think I’ll enjoy some sawdust sorbet before my caviar.”
“I’m distinguished?” He pulled me closer.
“Well, you’ve got a special kind of je ne sais quoi.”
“You takin’ French lessons, girl?
“No, I just heard it somewhere and like the poetic way it sounds.”
“Poetic? You’re really into that muse-mush crap, aren’t ya?”
“I enjoy some poetry, but mostly I dig anything French. And despite your vile mouth, you make me feel as romantic as an evening in Paris.”
“Oh girl, you don’t know what you do to me. Ummm,” he moaned. “Well, I better not get sappy this early in the evening.” He gave me a mini-lip massage before jumping into the shower.
With a towel tied around his chiseled waist, Gabriel walked into the kitchen. “Wanna swing by tomorrow morning and see the carpentry job I’m doing?”
“Twist my arm,” I tried being cool when indeed I was drooling inside like he’d just declared undying love for me and unveiled plans to purchase adjoining burial plots for us atop some picturesque mountain in Montana. How could any woman not be in love with this man? He was kind, considerate, fearless, gentle, intelligent, organized, and Lordy, Lordy was he ever an incredible lover. The kind of lover who tosses your soul onto new horizons, across the black void, into the sparkling universe, and causes you to speak languages you never studied. I would’ve traded my sponge curlers, bell bottom jeans, driver’s license, library card, voter registration, and every Beatles album I owned for more time with him.
The Jewel Box Page 8