Jamie shook her head while emitting a soft laugh. "I wonder if that’s why I like cigars so much." She didn’t add that she didn’t much care for them on Ryan’s breath the day after, since she thought that was a bit too much information for her mother.
"Your father picked up the habit from my father, you know. I’ve been surrounded by cigar smoke since I was born."
"I didn’t know that," Jamie mused.
Catherine laughed as she suggested, "That’s one very big plus about loving a woman, Jamie. You won’t have to deal with those nasty cigars."
"Umm-hmm," she murmured noncommittally, keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself.
They sat for a few minutes in silence, sipping cognac, while they took in the evening sounds. The garden was alive with crickets, small birds and even a nightingale. Lulled by the rhythmic chirping of the multitude of crickets, Jamie was nearly asleep before she knew it. Taking a few deep breaths she concentrated on the myriad of scents that surrounded her. The ocean’s tang was still noticeable, even with the profusion of trees and flowers, each giving off its own distinctive scent. There were close to 1,000 rose bushes in the expansive gardens, many of them species roses, some of them from the time the house was built. Jamie was particularly fond of the ones that emitted a sensual hint of myrrh, and she let her mind wander to how delightful that scent would be on Ryan.
"Mom," she began, the unfamiliar term feeling a little odd as it rolled off her tongue. "I know I’ve said this before, but I want to thank you again for your support. I can’t tell you how much harder it would be for me to handle if both you and Daddy were opposed to my relationship."
"I’m not opposed, Jamie," she said, and for the first time, Jamie detected a hesitancy in her comment.
"That sounded pretty equivocal," the younger woman said with a touch of concern.
Catherine sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. "I ahh…I don’t know if this is really the time to bring this up," she said.
"Why not? I really like that we’re being honest with each other, Mom. Tell me what you’re thinking."
"It’s a little hard to put into words, Dear. There’s just something…"
"What, Mom? This is important. Please, don’t worry about hurting my feelings. "I want to know how you really feel about this."
"All right," she conceded, taking in a deep breath. "I’ve told you before that it concerns me that you’ve had so little experience with love."
"Yes," Jamie acknowledged, "you have. And I’ve told you that Ryan surpasses all of my requirements."
"Yes, you have, Dear." Taking in another breath, she tried a different tactic to make her point. "Would you consider Jack to be a very passionate man, Jamie?"
"Uhh…" she gaped, never having foreseen this avenue of questioning. "He was passionate about a few things, but no, in general, I’d say he was much more logical and deliberate than passionate."
"Umm-hmm," Catherine mused, "that’s as I expected. He seemed like a very nice young man, and in many ways I would expect him to make a good husband. But I always thought you were making a mistake to settle for such a logical choice, Jamie."
"Okay…but Jack’s quite out of the picture now, Mother."
"I realize that, Dear," she agreed. "But it seems to me that you’ve applied the same logical thought process to choosing Ryan. Now that might be exactly how you want your life to go, Jamie, but I can’t help but think that one day you’ll regret never having been intimate with a man who is truly passionate. I just don’t want you to miss out on that experience."
Jamie tried to look calm but her mind was racing. I really, really, really don’t want to hear about my parents being in bed together. And of all the things I’d say my father is, passionate is not one of them. I guess you just can’t tell from the outside.
"I don’t have any intention of missing out on passion, Mother. I have a very fulfilling relationship with Ryan. I have all of the passion that I’ll ever need." And all that I can handle.
"But Honey," she explained, "it just can’t be like that with a woman. I see how you are with each other, Dear. I’ve been with you several times and, while she seems sweet and thoughtful and very caring, I just don’t see how she could fulfill you like a man could. It’s been on my mind since I saw Ryan say goodbye to you at the airport on Saturday night. I just don’t see any passion between you two, and it occurs to me that perhaps you just don’t know what you’re missing."
This line of questioning was starting to piss Jamie off. She knew that her mother was well-intentioned, but it annoyed her to think that she would assume that women couldn’t be wild together. "I have no way to prove that you’re wrong, Mother, but I can assure you that I’m more than satisfied." She spoke with more asperity than she had intended, and her mother immediately tried to explain further.
"Jamie, don’t be upset with me," she urged, "but when I saw her kiss you, it just looked so...friendly. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course, but if that’s all you ever know I’m afraid that you’ll regret it in the future."
Talk about a plan backfiring. "Mother, we try to act discreet in public, and we’re both sensitive to your discomfort with our physical affection. Just before we reached the waiting room I pulled her off into another concourse, and the kisses we gave each other were far more friendly than the one we gave each other in front of you."
"I can tell this is bothering you, Jamie," she said slowly. "I think I’ve offended you."
Taking in a deep breath of her own, Jamie reminded herself to allow her mother to make her point without jumping down her throat. She knew that her mother was trying to make what she assumed was a helpful suggestion, and she wanted to hear her out. "It’s okay, Mother," she assured her. "Just because I don’t agree with your point, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it. Please go on."
"I swear I’m not trying to think for you, Jamie, or make your choices for you. I’m just trying to recall what it was like to be your age. Goodness! Your father and I would have made a spectacle of ourselves in that terminal if I was leaving for a week."
"Well, to be honest, it’s a little different for us. We have to be more discreet than you and Daddy did. It’s no fun to be stared at and get dirty looks for being loving towards one another."
Catherine nodded slowly, lost in her own reverie, and letting the loss of her own passion wash over her. She knew that what she and Jim had left was just a tiny glimmer of the fire that once burned between them, and she assumed that if Jamie and Ryan started out with merely a friendly feeling it would all be extinguished quickly. "I don’t think we could have controlled ourselves if every eye in the airport was on us, Jamie. It’s impossible to be rational when a passionate man takes you in his arms and just overwhelms you with his power and his drive and the force of his need." She sighed deeply, then recalled herself to the point she was making. "A woman can’t possibly do that for you, Jamie. I don’t doubt that she makes you feel very cared for and nurtured. And I’m sure that she loves you and pleases you sexually. But don’t ignore the lure of the force and the intensity that a man could bring to you. It’s just something that I’d hate for you to miss, Jamie. Every woman should be swept off her feet at least once in her life."
She’s already swept me off my feet, and right into bed, more times than I can count. "Okay, Mom," Jamie laughed. "Ryan said that I shouldn’t be too forthcoming about our relationship, and I agreed with her, but you’ve got some goofy notions that I just have to address."
"Goofy?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow. "I don’t recall the last time someone said that I was goofy."
Patting her gently on the thigh, Jamie nodded slowly. "Your ideas are just plain goofy, and I’m gonna set you straight…as it were."
"Well, well, well, do continue, Dear." Catherine cocked her head slightly, her twinkling eyes encouraging Jamie to proceed.
"Here’s the deal, Mom. You seem to think that having a penis is a corollary to having passion. Not true. To be honest, not having one c
an be a very good thing. Ryan is always, and I do mean always, ready to perform. She never has been, and she never will be, impotent. She will never ejaculate prematurely. She will never go limp just when I need her the most."
Catherine didn’t say a word in response to Jamie’s little soliloquy. Her wide eyes indicated that she was a little shocked by her daughter’s directness, but Jamie honestly felt that the only way to allay her mother’s concerns was to be brutally honest.
"Now I’m not saying that penises can’t be fun. I’ll admit there was something kinda nice about being face to face while you shared the same pleasurable sensations. And I’m sure that being with a man who really knows how to use his penis would also be great. But not having a penis between us is not a problem, believe me."
"I believe you, Dear," Catherine said, still a little wide-eyed. "I just assumed…"
"I think I know what you assumed, Mother. And I could give you a rundown on all of the ways Ryan can fill my…needs. But I think that might be more information than you really want."
Catherine’s rapidly nodding head assured Jamie that she had learned plenty.
"You also seem to think that a woman can’t be wildly intense and powerful in bed. Also not true," she declared. "Have you ever seriously looked at Ryan’s body?"
"Well, umm, yes, she has a lovely body," Catherine said. "Very tall, with that trim waist, very much like a model."
Jamie laughed out loud at that assessment. Then it dawned on her why her mother thought this. "You’ve never seen her in anything that showed off her body, have you?"
Catherine shook her head. "No, I’ve not seen her in a dress, if that’s what you mean."
"Oh no, that’s not what I mean at all, Mother. Did you hear me tell the sales clerk that Ryan weighs about 180 pounds?"
"180?! No, I didn’t," she gaped. "How is that possible?"
"That’s possible because about forty pounds of that 180 is pure, hard, sexy muscle," Jamie declared. "Hard earned, well-used muscle. And if you want to feel well loved, let me tell you, nothing is sexier than having her pick me up like I don’t weigh a thing and hold me in those big, strong arms. When she does that, I run my hands down her back and feel those bands of hard power that lie just under that smooth skin, and I want to swoon!"
Jamie was so wrapped up in her vision that she didn’t even glance up when Catherine leaned her head back and let the remainder of her brandy roll down her throat in a single gulp.
Still intent on giving her mother an accurate picture of their relationship, she continued. "You know, you also don’t have to be a man to have a powerful sex drive, Mother. We make love almost every day, often twice a day, and I’ve never failed to have an orgasm with her. Never! Actually, I usually have two, and quite often three in an evening. She can be so tender, and sweet, and gentle that it breaks my heart to look into those gorgeous blue eyes. But two minutes later, those eyes can be glittering with need, and my pulse starts to race."
The younger woman swallowed slowly, her vivid imagination allowing her to perfectly recreate the mental impression of her partner’s desire filled eyes. She was almost in a fog of memory, and she continued to speak, almost oblivious of her mother’s presence. "She can get me so turned on that I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get release, but she knows just how much I can take. I’ll never know how she does it, but she manages to take me just to the edge of my capacity–never beyond."
She shook her head slowly, remembering the fevered lovemaking they had engaged in just before she departed. "I’ve asked her to do things to me that I never would have asked a man to do, and I’ve done things to her that I would have never considered doing with Jack. It’s almost amazing how unencumbered I feel with her, but I think it’s because she knows how I feel, because she’s a woman, too."
Slowly swallowing a mouth-warming sip of cognac, Jamie leaned her head back against the wicker chair, her eyes fluttering closed in memory. "When she makes love to me she concentrates on me fully. She’s not concerned about herself--only me. I feel so loved…and so special…and so unbelievably precious…that I feel sorry for the women who can’t experience what it’s like to be loved by her. I know you mean well, Mother, but don’t even think that we’re lacking in passion. I’ve felt it, I’ve given it, and I’m going to continue to feel it and lavish it on Ryan for the rest of our lives!"
Catherine leaned her head back and tilted her glass once more, surprised to find it empty. She slowly poured more of the liquor into her own, and then tipped the bottle into Jamie’s nearly empty glass. After a few minutes of dead silence she started to giggle. She laughed harder and harder until she was bent at the waist trying to catch her breath. After a very long while she finally gasped out, "Would you consider lending her to me for my birthday?"
Jamie joined her mother as they dissolved into fits of laughter. Tears were rolling down their faces, and they didn’t even try to collect themselves. They laughed harder and longer than they ever had together. Finally, sides aching, they sat back in their chairs and giggled a few more times. Catherine looked at her and asked with a straight face, "Three in one night?"
"Well, four is the current record," Jamie informed her, trying to be accurate. "Three is the norm."
Jamie stumbled over the threshold of her door as she unsuccessfully tried to enter her room quietly. She and her mother had emptied their glasses several more times as they sat in the cool night air, talking about love and life. It had been a tremendous amount of fun–probably the most fun they had ever had together, but she was paying the price now. Her head was spinning as she tried to remove her clothes, and she had to sit down several times to hold the room in one place. But once she got her clothes off, and slid in between the cool, soft sheets, she started to feel that familiar tingle that came from thinking about and talking about Ryan, especially in such intimate terms.
She found her phone and punched in Ryan’s pager number, putting in her cell number when prompted. In just a few minutes, her cell phone rang, and she drawled in her sexiest voice, "Hi, Love."
"Hi, yourself," Ryan replied, a little surprised by Jamie’s tone. "I was beginning to worry about you. It’s almost midnight there."
"Is it really?" she asked. "I just went outside with mother for a little drink. How could bat thee?" she slurred as she mixed her words up.
"How many 'little drinks' did you have?" Ryan asked in an indulgent tone, realizing that her partner was well over the legal blood alcohol limit in most states.
"I guess a couple," she said. "I think."
"Well, you sound like you need some sleep," Ryan said. "Do you want to hang up now?"
"No, no, I really don’t, Honey. I miss you, and I need to hear your voice. Will you help me get to sleep?"
"Sure, do you want me to sing to you? I found that my cell phone works tonight for some reason, so I’m in my room."
"Uh-uh," Jamie insisted, "I want the other kind of sleep aid," she said with a seductive growl.
"Oh my!" Ryan laughed. "Well, you know me. I’m willing to give it a try."
"You are such a good sport, Ryan O’Flaherty. Have I told you that I love you today?"
"Not nearly enough," Ryan admitted. "It’s hard not talking to you all day."
With a deep sigh, Jamie agreed wholeheartedly. "It’s torture, Ryan. It really is. I was talking about you all evening with Mother, and now I just want to hop on a plane and get my little hands all over you."
"Well, I have to say that would be the nicest surprise I’ve ever received," Ryan chuckled. "But I’d still be stuck in a little room with Jordan. They don’t do bed checks, but sharing our private time with her isn’t my idea of a good time."
"What is your idea of a good time?" she asked huskily.
Ooh, her engines are really stoked, Ryan thought. I wonder what she and her mother were talking about? Oh well, I’ll have to ask that when she’s sober. I have a feeling her memory isn’t too clear right now. "You know what I like, Baby. And you’ve never failed t
o give it to me."
"Ummmmhhh," Jamie murmured, "I love that tone of voice. What are you wearing, Baby? I need a good picture of you."
Ryan glanced down and considered her outfit. After dinner she had put on a pair of Conor’s old basketball shorts that came almost to her knees. They were so baggy that one or two of her teammates could have gotten in with her, but they were quite comfortable for lounging around in. One of Rory’s ribbed undershirts served as her equally ill-fitting top, but she knew that outfit would not be suitable to spark Jamie’s imagination--so she improvised. "I have on the same underwear that I wore the first time we made love," she murmured. "It reminds me of you, and how wonderful it was to be able to touch every part of your body for the first time."
Jamie’s mind was so muddled by the cognac, that she didn’t ask the obvious question–namely, why Ryan would wear her sexy undies to volleyball camp.
"That is so romantic," Jamie sighed. "You know just how to make me feel special."
"That’s because you are special," she insisted. "Now help me fill in my mental picture. What do you have on?"
"Nothing but a smile," she purred lazily, languidly rolling over onto her stomach. "Guess where my hand is?"
Ryan immediately realized that she could get to like this game rather quickly. But she was not really in ideal circumstances to let herself get aroused right now. Lying on a tiny bed in a strange room with a grumpy roommate liable to walk in at any moment just didn’t provide the type of ambiance she needed to relax enough to get hot. So she tried to stay involved enough to please Jamie, but distant enough to remain lucid. "If it’s your right hand, I bet it’s snuggled up some place soft and warm."
"How did you guess that?" Jamie asked in wonder.
"Because every place on your body is soft and warm," Ryan explained, letting her voice drop a little.
"Mmm, you’re sweet," she said. "Are you wearing a bra?"
She was, but she saw no reason to let reality intrude. "Uh-uh. I’m completely bare under my lacy black tank top."
"I want you to slide your hand inside and gently rub your nipples just like I do," she whispered.
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