He came in while I was showering and when I heard him relieving himself, I turned and faced the wall.
“ ‘Tis nothing you’ve not seen before. Only now it is not adequate.”
“I’ve not seen it doing that,” I said through the running water.
“You Americans . . . you’ll take it into your mouth and swallow what comes out of it, but you’ll not take a glimpse of it while it’s pissing out water.”
“You Europeans—oh!” I laughed out loud. “Is that what the Europee-ans are all about?”
He pulled open the shower door and stepped in, “No, this is what we Europeans are all about—hot sex in the morning.” He grabbed a handful of shower gel from the pump and began soaping me up, then he indicated in the
Tessa of Crooked Gulley
nicest way possible by pushing down on my shoulders that he would like me to kneel between his thighs. Adequate became gargantuan inside my mouth and to the sounds of him panting and moaning I brought him to within a hairsbreadth of coming. When he quickly backed away and pulled me up by my elbows, I sighed. “You were almost there, I was doing so well.” This was still such a novel thing for me. I was actually disappointed that he had made me stop.
“Yes, you were very good. But it’s not the way I want to remember our last time together for a while.” Grabbing my waist, he hoisted me against the tiles and lifted my legs over his hips. With his head buried in my neck and murmuring sweet, encouraging words while he pumped into me, my vaginal muscles clenched around him and I came. I was barely aware of what I was saying against his chest, but I knew that I was crying when he came inside me. And I felt emptied out in a way that I never had before, as if the tension on a slingshot all set to fire had been released without any ammo and was wobbling back and forth inside me.
Roman thrust high into me, scooting my back up the tiles with each upward impalement. I could tell that on some primordial level male instinct was overtaking him and he was fucking me as if it was his right, as if it was his due to be able to take me any way that it pleased him. Fast and hard he pounded into me as the water ran over our bodies drenching us.
I heard his low growl and felt his hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he held me to him while he forced himself inside with a final savage surge. With a groan he emptied himself inside me. Sex is the ultimate submission and if I hadn’t known it before, I surely knew it now. For this span of time, this man owned me. I was his.
After long moments where he just held me against the wall I felt him slide out of me. He helped me lower my legs and reached for the soap. “You were sobbing, are you all right?”
“That was odd, wasn’t it? I don’t know what happened.”
“Must’ve hit your G spot, makes it more intense that way.”
“Really?”
“Mmmhmm,” he said as he put his head under the water to rinse.
“And you’d know this, how?”
“Darlin’there is nary a thing about a woman’s body I have not been privy to at one time or another.”
“After this weekend, I think I can believe that.”
“I can give you references, if you’re in doubt.”
“A tome the size of the New York Phone Book, I imagine.”
“Nah, just London’s.”
He kissed me on the cheek and left me alone in the shower. I washed my hair and luxuriated in the hot water running down my body.
Sitting across the table sipping coffee, eating an English muffin and watching him watch me, I wondered how I was going to leave this man. Each time it got harder and harder to pack up and kiss at the door, the door to the room, the door to the hotel, the door to my car.
On the way home I told myself that two people could not remain this intense, this needy and this desperate. We had to burn out. No one could live this high in the clouds, this mesmerized and distracted. It took almost the whole drive home for me to come off this edgy cliff I was on and begin to think of things that didn’t center on Roman, his body, or his adequacy.
Chapter Nineteen
No slaves on this Plantation Itook two days to brood, doing nothing much more than watering plants and cleaning deck furniture. Then Viv and Cat showed up at the door and said it was time to come out of my shell and stop ducking their calls. I was talked into lunch at the Mexican restaurant, San Felipe in Shallotte, and then we went to see “Accused,” at the movie theater. It was a good movie, well done, but kind of a downer. And for the mood I was in, I wasn’t sure this had been the best choice. But then laughing didn’t feel quite natural now either. I had heart issues again, and even though my emotions weren’t dealing with the finality of death this time, I was hurting just the same.
Coming out of the theater we ran into Marianne Stickler and her husband, Neil, and because we hadn’t seen them for a while, we all agreed to stop at Fibber McGee’s on the way home for drinks. The veggie quesadilla I’d had at San Fellippe along with the popcorn and Raisinettes I’d had at the theater had left me quite satisfied, so I tried to beg off when Viv, Cat, and I got into Cat’s car. But they would hear none of it.
“You’re not going home to sit on the couch and watch Idol reruns on the DVR. David Cook aside, you have more important things to do.” This from Viv.
“Important things like what?”
“Being with your friends, that’s what,” Cat said.
“Roman will call and even if he doesn’t, you can’t let your life revolve around a man.”
“You do.”
“That’s different, we’re married, and we live together. You have to accept that you and Roman may never be more than a fling and that you can’t fall apart every time you separate or it’ll ruin all the fun you have when you’re together,” Cat said.
“Yeah, and if he even gets a whiff that you’re needy or pining and just waiting for his call, he’s going to balk and head for the hills.”
“You guys have this all wrong, you think I want something to come of this, something of a more permanent nature, well I don’t.”
“You don’t?”
I let the echo die from both of them before taking a deep breath and sighing. “I’m not exactly mooning for Roman as much as missing the connection we have. If he would just call, even to say let’s hook up in July, I’d be just fine with that even though it’s more than half a year away. It’s just knowing that I amgoing to see him again, eventually. I actually like the anticipation and the waiting; I just don’t like the not knowing.”
“The not knowing whether you’ve been dumped or not?” Vivian clarified.
“Yes, exactly. The not knowing even the tiniest bit of what the future holds for me with regard to him.”
“Well, I’d say you have to get into full distract mode. Tomorrow we go golfing, and then shopping, and if you haven’t heard from him by Saturday, we’ll go to the South Brunswick Islands Woman’s Club Fashion Show for lunch and then take in a show at The Alabama Theater.”
Tessa of Crooked Gulley “Can’t I just go home and wallow? I actually think a little wallowing is good for the soul.”
“No!” they both said simultaneously as Cat pulled into a parking space in front of Fibber’s. It was crowded but we found a table in the corner and waited for Lisa to take our order. The Sticklers arrived a few minutes later. Nancy and Paul Barnes showed up a few minutes after that and we invited them to join us. We started getting caught up on everyone’s travels. Nancy and Paul had spent a lot of time during the summer in the Orient and had some wonderful stories to tell.
There were many people from Sea Trail scattered through out, people who were looking for a new watering hole since Brassie’s on the Plantation had closed. This was a nice place to meet for a drink and to grab a deli sandwich. It was smoke-free and a nice, boisterous place to watch a game with friends, but not a good place to order an Irish coffee as I soon discovered. Odd, as this appeared to be an Irish pub of sorts. I was stunned when the bill came—it cost $8.50 for a shot of Jameson’s an
d some strong black coffee. Beer drinkers get the bargains at a neighborhood bar like this, I grumbled to myself as I peeled off a ten-dollar bill for my part of our tab.
I asked Nancy about her work as she has the longest commute of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s a dental hygienist, practicing in New York City so she flies up, stays in her apartment for a week, takes care of her clients, and then flies back to the Plantation until it’s time to go back again. That’s dedication.
Matt called Cat on her cell phone and he showed up a few minutes later and then Denny and Bobbie deLagarde showed up and before long we had a loud chatty group and soon Roman was far removed from my mind. It turned out that Bobbie had been stunned by the $8.50 Irish whiskey charge a few nights ago, too.
Viv and Cat had finally succeeded in distracting me—until we arrived back home to discover a huge flower arrangement sitting in front of the door on the front porch. The plants were all of the tropical variety, birds of paradise, exotic lilies and dendrobium orchids, anthurium, and Pink Mink protea. It was lovely and I knew without reading the card who had sent it. But of course, reading the card was the icing on the cake and with a huge smile on my face I reached for the small white envelope. I clutched it to my chest while I opened the door for Cat and Viv, as they weren’t about to leave once they saw what was waiting by the door. Viv carried the huge vase inside and Cat followed. I lingered to read my card in private.
“Missing you terribly. Your smell, your touch, your taste . . . Roman” When I didn’t go inside, both Viv and Cat came back to the door.
“Uh oh, she’s crying,” Cat said.
And I was, tears were streaming down my face.
Viv reached over and hugged me, but I knew it was so she could read the card. Which she did. “Oh my!” she exclaimed.
Cat lifted it from my fingers, turned it in hers and then read it. She gave a huge grin. “I think you have that connection you spoke of, and that your future holds some pretty wonderful things to look forward to. And unless I miss my guess, it doesn’t sound like he’s going to be willing to wait until July.”
I hugged them both, thanked them for a wonderful day and went inside to get into my comfortable pj’s so I could smell my flowers and read my card a hundred times.
Not able to sleep that night, I did manage to clear out most of the recorded shows on my DVR, even all the old Idols.
Chapter Twenty
Where, oh where, can my little friend be? Ihad called Amy numerous times, leaving message after message, and once or twice getting an irate Carlos, who with forced politeness, informed me that Amy was not at home, and no, he could not tell me what doctor she was seeing or what he had advised.
I watched their house carefully for any activity until I heard from a member of STMGA, Sea Trail Men’s Golf Association, that Carlos was out of town visiting friends in Florida. And no, he didn’t believe Amy was included in this trip. His snide smile told me without me having to ask why he felt that way. Who took their wife on a what-happens-inVegas-stays-in-Vegas kind of trip?
Traipsing across backyards and skirting the course, I investigated the house no less than six times. Each time I found it locked up tight, with no lights on other than those on timers, and there was no mail or newspaper piled up anywhere. Finally I remembered that I had a key and late one afternoon, I went inside to see what I could see. I wanted to know where Amy was. I wanted to know that she was all right. I wanted to know that he had not doped her, cut her into little pieces and buried her. And honestly, if I’d seen a speck of blood anywhere, Police Chief Massey would have been able to hear me from her office without benefit of amplification.
It was eerily quiet, only the low hum of the refrigerator made any kind of impression on me. I walked around the kitchen opening and closing cabinets, the dishwasher and the fridge. Everything was neat as could be, like the Amy I used to know would have left it. The pantry was sparse, but then it almost always was as they ate out a lot. The fridge held an open box of Arm & Hammer Baking Soda and a six pack of Diet Coke and four Coronas. In the deli drawer was the egg timer Amy kept there so she’d know where it was when she made deviled eggs for a pot luck event. It was the only thing she made that always turned out well and she loved the praise she got. Clearly she would not be making any deviled eggs anytime soon. I shut the door and made my way to the bedroom.
The blub blub of the water cooler caused by Godknows-what nearly sent me through the roof. Holding my hand to my chest I grabbed the counter and hung onto it while I regrouped. I knew I was trespassing, I knew if Carlos found out I was in big trouble. But something in my gut told me that Amy was in bigger trouble. No way would she have left to go anywhere without saying good-bye. It was that fact, and that fact alone, that kept me sneaking through the house, opening drawers, looking under beds, and checking the caller I.D. list on the portable phone. The same number called two days ago, I didn’t recognize it but it was a local exchange. I pushed the redial button.
“Doshier Nursing Home, how may I direct your call?”
“Uh, is Amy Diaz there?” Wow, that took me by surprise. Could she possibly be there?
“I’m not allowed to give out that information. Do you have a room number?”
“I’m not sure what room she’s in.” Think! Think!
Tessa of Crooked Gulley “But my church has asked me to visit her and it’s a long drive from Sunset Beach if she’s not able to have visitors.” “Please hold and I’ll get a nurse for you.”
I stood by the bed staring around the room and wondering how the hell Amy ended up in Southport at the Nursing home. Unless there was some other reason they had called that had absolutely nothing to do with Amy.
“Nurses station.”
“Hi! I’m on the visitation committee at Seaside United Methodist and I wanted to know if today would be a good day to visit Amy Diaz.”
“Well, actually no. She’s in testing today and test days are really very tiring for the patients, perhaps tomorrow, can you call back?”
“Yes, definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow. Should I call you?”
“No, I won’t be working tomorrow just ask for Dayna.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me if there’s anything I can bring her?”
“She loves coloring books and stuffed animals are always nice to cuddle.”
“Coloring books? I was told that Amy was in her fifties.”
“Oh she is, but when they’ve reverted to this degree they like simple things.”
“Are you allowed to tell me what’s wrong with her?”
“I would have thought that the church would have gotten that information from her husband when he requested visitation.”
“I think they have it, I just forgot to write it down. I see so many people. I’m a widow you see.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. She has early onset Alzheimer’s. And it’s progressing very quickly, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d heard of cases where this happened, but not this suddenly, and not this soon, and not to someone I knew and loved.
There was silence on the other end too, and then a rustling of papers. “Hmmm, there must be a mistake somewhere, her orders say no visitors. Her husband signed off on that.”
“Oh, well then I guess I won’t be coming out after all.”
“That’s a shame. She seems so alone. But orders are orders. If you want to send a few coloring books, I’d be happy to see that she gets them.”
“Yeah, sure.” I listened as she rattled off her name and the address for the facility. Then I said thank you and hung up.
I plopped down onto the bed, fell to my side and curled into a little ball and cried. I don’t know how long I lay there soaking the comforter under my cheek, but it was dark when I looked up and saw the picture of Carlos and Amy on her beside table. I’d never really taken a good look at it before so I stood and went over to pick it up.
It was their wedding picture. Amy was wearing a white sleeveless dress, h
er arms spindly and noticeably sunburned. On her head she wore a fabric-covered headband that had little silk lilies attached to it. Her smile was huge, her eyes shining with promise. Next to her was a handsome Hispanic male, his smile for the camera, not necessarily for her. I saw a glint in his eyes that I had seen the first time I’d met the man. It was a hungry look, a leering, lustful look. I thought that very odd until I remembered the blonde who was behind the camera.
Chapter Twenty-one
Pick me up Ianswered the phone that night to a husky male voice saying, “Your feet must be tired, ‘cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” It was Roman and I could practically see the grin lighting up his face.
“That’s pretty corny you know.”
“You should have heard the rest of them. I was at a party on a yacht anchored in the harbor last night and four women corralled me and regaled me with the best pick-up lines they’ve ever heard. One right after another, they flung them at me as if I alone was responsible for all the world’s lecherous males.”
My mind asked the question: Did he? Did he take one of them home? But I wasn’t going to go there. I wasn’t going to be the jealous, possessive type. I wasn’t. I was not!
“What was your favorite?”
“If it’s true you are what you eat, I could be you by morning.”
I groaned and then I had to giggle, but the thought that these women, all probably young and drop-dead gorgeous, were hanging on Roman’s arm and talking about things having to do with oral sex, caused me a few moments of unease. Did he? Did he? I was going to rise above this. Even if I summoned up the courage, what man in his situation would tell the truth? “That’s a good one, I hadn’t heard that one.”
“Try this: ‘You’ve got 206 bones in your body, want one more?’”
“Oh, that’s pretty raw.”
The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley Page 14