The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  “I know. But I like it here a lot.”

  “Good, I’m so happy to see you doing so much better. I brought you something.” I handed her the small jewelry box and watched her delight in the tiny oyster shell and pearl necklace.

  “Stacey has arranged for me to have my hair cut by one of the finest stylists in Europe. She’s here for a week and has offered to do my hair because she said she had wild unruly hair herself as a child. She’s going to cut it to my chin, thin it and put weaves in it to hold it away from my face. She says it will look like my hair is tame!”

  “Wow! I can’t wait to see that,” I said, and we both laughed.

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  Rainbow chirped, “Wait ‘til your father gets home. Shit’s going to hit the fan.”

  Amy giggled. “He’s always saying such funny things.”

  “Don’t drink his moonshine or he’s going to shoot your ass full of buckshot,” the bird continued.

  “What odd language.”

  “He once belonged to a family who made moonshine. They sold him for bail money, and he ended up here.”

  “They’re burnin’the grass! Oh Lordy, they’re burnin’ the grass! Damn, there goes all that weed!”

  “Sounds like they did more than make moonshine.”

  “Yeah,” Amy laughed and it was like seeing the clock turn back. I patted her hand. “You’re going to be just fine, you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “And I’ll be here for you to put it back together.”

  Tears started streaming down Amy’s face. “How could he have done that? He was supposed to have loved me! He was my husband!”

  “People change.”

  “No! Not like that. I was just stupid. I should have seen him for what he was.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, no one did.”

  “Tom did,” she said and then she looked up at me. “He never liked Carlos.”

  “No, he never did,” I agreed, looking off into the distance, following the flight of a colorful parasail. I thought about Tom and how on the money he’d been about Carlos. I wondered what he’d think of Roman.

  “They wrecked the still Ma! They broke every fuckin’ piece!”

  Amy and I looked at each other and broke into gales of laughter.

  Yes, she was going to be all right. It would take time to heal, but she was strong, and she was smart. Once all the medication was out of her system, she’d pick up the pieces and get back to her old life, sans Carlos. And I would be there to help her and to give her the shoulder she needed to cry on when things got tough.

  I couldn’t marry Roman. As much as I loved the life I had with him here, I had another life I had to get back to and friends who counted on me.

  Amy and I had a nice lunch at a table overlooking the beach and then I left her in Stacey’s capable hands. On the way out of the spa I heard Rainbow on the verandah screeching, “Oh God, the shame of it! All that Mary Jane wasted!”

  I had to chuckle as I ducked to get into the back seat of the car. Poor bird, he was sure a good mimic, he had the despair and anguish down pat. I thought of the new store that had recently opened at Ocean Isle Beach called The Porch Parrot. I’d have to get Amy a wooden parrot on a swing for her screened-in porch as a memento of this trip and to remind her of the fun she had with Rainbow.

  Back at the house, I changed into a bathing suit in anticipation of going to the beach with Roman when he got home. It was an old bikini, hand crocheted and ultra soft, so even though it was out of style, I still wore it. Keyed up about the proposal and not knowing how to convey my thoughts to Roman, I grabbed the exercise ball I saw in the sunroom and began my Pilates work out.

  I was on the screened in porch doing wide bridges on the ball, balancing my hips on the very edge of the ball and with my knees spread wide and raising and lowering my hips in a smooth pulsing rhythm. It was an exercise particularly good for my hips, but also for my inner thighs.

  I had not heard Roman come in but sensed someone’s presence and looked up and over and between my legs. Roman’s eyebrow was quirked and his nostrils were flared. Clearly he was intrigued by my workout. “Any chance of getting you to do that with your bikini bottoms off?” he asked.

  I looked down at the tiny piece of fabric covering my crotch as I gently bounced up and down on the ball. The next thing I knew he was tucking hundred dollar bills in the elastic in appreciation of my performance.

  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked as he found the strings on one side. He pulled and the bottom came off in his hand. Smiling with devilment in his eyes, he tossed it aside as he knelt between my legs. By rolling the ball backward, he positioned me exactly where he wanted me.

  The workout I had that afternoon on the ball was unlike any workout I’d ever had. And it was likely that anytime I took my ball out at home, I would remember a man in a white uniform, kissing my tender flesh so lovingly and thoroughly that I died the petite morte as the French would say, against his lips many, many times before he entered me and took me while I used my legs, fighting to keep us centered on the ball. It was an unrivaled workout for my lower half and I was exhausted as I slumped to the floor with him when he finally allowed his pleasure to overtake him.

  “Mmmm, what a nice thing to come home to,” he murmured as he pulled me into his arms. “I like that string bikini, don’t let anything happen to it.”

  “It’s old, ancient even. I think I bought that back in the eighties.”

  “Ah . . . anyone else ever divest you of it so quickly?”

  “Tom untied it while I was lying down at the pool once, pulled it out from under me and tossed it into the water. The deep end mind you.”

  “I take it he made you fetch it?”

  “Oh yeah, luckily we were the only ones in the pool area at the time. This was at the Pink Palace Pool on the Plantation. I managed to get it from the bottom of the pool just as we heard some kids coming through the gate. So here I was treading water to keep afloat while trying to put the damned thing back on.”

  He laughed, “So all that work to get it off you and then he couldn’t capitalize and have his way with you. What a shame. I have my own pool though, so you won’t have any worries if I take this piece off too . . .”

  He pulled on the string behind my back and my top came off. He picked me up and carried me out to the pool and dropped me in. I sputtered back to the surface in time to see him removing his clothes and diving in.

  He swam to where I was floating. “I’m thinkin’ we might pass on the windsurfing today and just relax here, if you don’t mind. My housekeeper is coming in to cook our dinner so we have all afternoon to frolic naked in the pool, if that’s okay with you?”

  I grabbed his penis and lightly squeezed it. “Does your lingam have any new Tantric lessons for me today?”

  “Ahhh . . . I’m sure a lesson can be arranged. Now, before I pleasure you in a way you cannot imagine, can we discuss your answer to the question of you becoming my wife?”

  I was holding onto him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled us along, drifting in the water. With my other hand I held his penis, feeling it pulse in my hand— when I heard his question, I let go and sank to the bottom of the pool.

  “That can’t be good,” he said as I surfaced.

  “It would be imprudent of us to marry,” I said simply.

  “And why is that?”

  “I love where I live. I have lots of friends on the Plantation, especially Cat and Viv and now I have to make sure that Amy’s going to be all right. Gosh, the friends I have there, there are so many, everyone’s so friendly. It’s as if they were all just waiting for me to move there. I just can’t up and leave and I don’t want to. As nice as all this is,” I swept my arms around, indicating the pool and the beach below, “it wouldn’t be home to me. I never planned on remarrying. Finding someone to love, yes!
Someone to spend time with and to do things with, yes! But marriage . . . I’ll admit that it would be nice to have someone to take out the trash every once in a while, especially on those dark chilly nights when there is no moon, but I’ve been independent for so long, I don’t think I can be what you want.”

  “You are what I want and what I need. Trust me on this. I have scarce little experience with proposing, so I’m not taking this lightly. And as to your independence, I only want to rule you in bed. You can come and go as you please. I just need to know that you are mine and that your lovely body with all its charms belongs to me.”

  “And speaking of bodies, mine has a weird quirk remember? What if my cancer comes back, what if I get sick again?”

  “Then we will deal with it together. There are no guarantees. I’m in for the long haul, Tessa. If you get sick then you certainly will be better off than you are now. Forgive me for being harsh, but your Tom isn’t here anymore, if you get sick you’ll need someone to wipe your brow and to hold a bucket for you. I’ll be here to do that, when or if need be.”

  “I wouldn’t want you doing that.”

  “Tough! What’s next?”

  “What if you die jumping off one of those boats?”

  He gave an exasperated sigh, “They’re ships. And why is it that the very same thing that attracts a woman to a man, the thing she finds so sexy and manly at the outset, suddenly becomes taboo? Well, if I miss the boat, which is highly unlikely, you’ll be a very rich woman indeed. I have so much insurance and so do the pilot’s associations and cruise lines that you’ll have a hard time spending all the money I’ll be leavin’ya. But I would na be countin’on me missing the boat so to speak, I am vera good at my job.”

  His brogue was more pronounced when he was angry and I had definitely managed to rile him with my refusal. As I looked at him, a dark lock of hair fell across his forehead; he was shaking his finger at me. I doubted that he had been refused many things in his life—especially by women. My rejection had apparently blindsided him and he was furious.

  “I don’t care about the money! I couldn’t go through grief like that again. Tom died on a fishing trip so this whole water thing scares me. Now, I’m afraid of you dying on a ship.”

  “Well, I’ll be givin’ you one thing, I guarantee I’ll nae die on a ship—there’s not one made that I don’t know all there is to know about it! And if it’s all the same to you, I rather fancy the idea of dying in bed screwing the hell out of an appreciative woman!” He rifled his fingers through his hair and swam to the end of the pool. Then he stood and stared back at me.

  “Why all this talk about me dyin’anyway? How old do you think I am?”

  We both looked at each other and stared. “I have no idea. How old are you?”

  “Forty-eight, forty-nine next month.”

  I sucked in a breath of air. I had thought him older because I had wanted him to be older. The truth cut into me. I didn’t want to be the older woman; I didn’t want him to be the younger man. I would have preferred it to be the other way around. This was Amy and Carlos all over again. “I can’t marry you, you’re six years younger than I am!”

  “Really? You’re fifty-four?” His head tilted and he looked at me as if trying to absorb that.

  “Yes, I’m older, so it’s likely that I’ll get sick before you, if not cancer then something else.”

  “Then we will deal with it together. There are no guarantees. I could slip off a ship and drown.”

  “I thought you said that was not at all likely and to never even think of it.”

  “Yes, I did. And I think that’s how we should look at your health issues. Not bloody likely, and not worthy of wasting thought on. But if you did get the cancer back, or got sick with anything else then I would take care of you. But until then we would have a wonderful life together. Marry me Tessa, don’t worry so much about the what-ifs.”

  “I’m too old for you.”

  “It’s of no matter, you coulda changed my nappies, but ya didna. I am full-grown and so are you. My ballocks are furry and my cock a man’s and if you’ll not be appreciatin’ them, I’ll be takin’ ‘em elsewhere!” He stood, turned his broad back to me and stalked up the steps and out of the pool. I watched him walk the length of the long apron with his fists clenched at his side. What a marvelous butt.

  “Oooh!” I yelled to no one in particular. Then I sat on the top step and cried.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Mother and Child He came back a few minutes later and sat on the step next to me. The water lapped around us as he put his arm around me. “It’s very hard to stay mad at you when you’re out here naked,” he said. “If you want to fight, at least put some clothes on and give me a fightin’ chance.”

  I smiled through my tears, but I said nothing. “Look, let’s put this off for a while. Maybe I jumped the gun a bit. I’ve never been in love like this before and it’s all new to me. “Let’s just go on the way we were goin’ and forget I asked for your hand.”

  “What about the ring?”

  “I would be honored if you would wear it until we can revisit the issue.” He saw the wary look in my eye. “But not anytime soon, mind you. It’s not like we have to get married, you’re not with child, right?” he said teasingly.

  “No, I’m not with child,” I said wiping at my tears with the back of my hand.

  “Hey, listen, didn’t you say you were ready for your second Tantric lesson?”

  I looked up and nodded. He picked me up and dunked me in the pool. “Can’t have a tear-stained face for Mother Child Meditation.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not exactly how it sounds. There is no child involved. In fact, this can be done whether or not your partner and you are lovers. This was done in one of the seminars I was in and my partner was a complete stranger to me. Well, up until this particular exercise.”

  “You’ve peaked my curiosity.”

  “This exercise does not culminate in intercourse, in fact, under no circumstances should you have intercourse with this exercise.”

  “Yet, you still want to do it.”

  “It’s very nurturing and we’ll both enjoy it. It’s soothing and relaxing. We both need this one right now.”

  “Well, if you’re sure . . .”

  “Positive.”

  “All right what do we do?”

  “You nurse me.”

  “What?”

  “You nurse me.”

  “I have no milk!”

  “It doesn’t require any actual nourishment.”

  “You’re kidding right?”

  “No. Trust me on this. You take the role of the mother and I, of course, take the place of the baby. This is very open, but full of intimacy and vulnerability. The pitfalls are that often the man fears that by acting out as a child that he is losing his manhood and will want to prove it by having sex, and then the surge of pleasure the woman gets by the relaxing and tugging on her breasts makes her desire sex, too. But we cannot let those feelings distract us. We both have to focus on the fact that my sucking is as a baby seeking nourishment not as a man trying to turn on a woman. Remember that, you take on the role of mother with her baby, you hold your partner exactly as you would an infant and you do not talk, unless it is baby talk. For my part, I curl up in your lap and suck on your breasts for twenty minutes, just like a baby.”

  I gave him an I-think-you’re-out-of-your-mind eyebrow quirk, “Oookay . . . and where do we do this?”

  “Anywhere, anywhere a woman would nurse her infant. How about on one of the lounge chairs out of the sun? And lets get you a towel or cover up at least from the waist down.” He walked out of the pool, grabbed a large beach towel and pulled me up from the step. He wrapped the towel around my waist and left me topless. He settled me into a lounger with the back all the way up and then he sat and positioned himself with his lower body between my legs, as he was too heavy for me to hold in my lap. He settled in at my left breast to nurse while I
cradled his head and shoulders in my arms. I noticed that his hand was slightly cupping my other breast just as an infant’s might, lightly and possessively, as if content to know that he was saving it until he was finished with the first one. It was such an odd experience at first, a bit unsettling really, but then the constant tug of his lips and tongue pulling on my nipple, totally took me to a new place. My breasts were getting heavy and the act of holding Roman’s head to my breast as I would an infant’s was some kind of erotic. I began to stroke his hair and I even made low cooing sounds to him. He responded by sucking harder and it felt so wonderful, I thought I was floating. After ten minutes, it was time to move to my other breast, so Roman, without saying anything, repositioned himself and began suckling on the other breast. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth worked to keep the nipple in place, it was so sensual that I could hardly credit it. His hand was cupping my left breast oh so gently, not moving, just holding his place, as his mouth worked tirelessly. My breasts had never felt heavier. My womb had never felt heavier. And I wanted sex. Badly.

  When he lifted his slumberous head from my breast and smiled up at me, I could actually envision him as a little boy. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  And I did feel better, whole worlds better. I nodded. “I want sex.”

  “Sorry, no can do.”

  “When? I need you . . . “

  “A couple of hours at least.”

  “How did it feel to you?”

  “Let’s just say I could do that for hours and hours. It was very relaxing and comforting. And the fact that you were so accepting, makes me very happy.”

  “You’ve done this before.” It was a statement, for I knew that he had.

  “Yes.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “It’s how I quit smoking.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Deadly. Twice a day for ten days. Haven’t had a cigarette since.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true. I was taking this Tantric course and I happened to ask one of the instructors if she had any advice for me, that I was trying to quit smoking. She explained the Mother Child Mediation and asked if any of the instructors had the time to help me with it. Atimid young woman raised her hand and said she could do it if I came to her house. I could hardly believe it; this woman who I had not even yet been introduced to was offering to let me suckle her breasts for forty minutes every day. I eagerly leapt at the opportunity, but the elder advisor took me aside and made sure that I understood that we could not have sex, ever. That it would be detrimental for both our spirits, that this was not about sex, and that the home I would be visiting was hers and her husband’s, it was likely her husband, who was a baker, would be home when I came for a session.