My Kind Of Crazy

by Nadene Seiters

  Her left hand buries into my short hair and grips tight when I gently part her legs and run my tongue along the insides of her thighs. The taste of Anastasia is sweet and salty all at once. I kiss her everywhere but the one spot that I know will bring her to climax, and then I stand up with the entire length of my body against hers. I pick her up with my hands on her bottom, and she wraps her free arm around my neck.

  I’m careful not to jostle her bad arm in her sling as I set her on the bed. Then I gently unwrap her legs from my waist with the smile that I reserve for her, and I kiss each one of the tiny, pebbly, hard peaks before I trail my tongue down to her inner thighs. When I’m pretty sure that she can’t take it anymore, I reach up one hand to play with her nipple, use a finger to stroke her on the inside, and circle my tongue around her nub until she bucks against me hard.

  I ride the orgasm with her for over half a minute before she starts priming for another. I could play with her like this for hours on end, but the doctor did remind me that she needs rest. She’ll rest really well tonight if I make her exhausted before bed. That’s not Tom anymore. That’s me. It’s been six days since I’ve seen or heard from Tom, and I hope that I can keep the peace as long as I take my medication.

  I switch hands and tease her other nipple while I coax her into another orgasm, and this time I hold her hips down with my hand until she’s crying out my name. When I’ve finally satisfied the need to hear her say my name over and over again, and her fingers are limp in my hair, I pull off my own pants and slip on a condom. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but I don’t want little ones running around the house while we’re not married.

  Careful of her arm, I position myself overtop of her and tease her nipples a few times more with my mouth. Just as she’s on the verge of another climax, I push into her so that I can feel just how much she likes my touch. Our mouths collide as my hips crush down on hers, and my rhythm remains steady. I have to take it easy while her arm is healing, but as soon as that sling is off and she’s feeling better, I’ll show her everything she’ll ever want to know.

  My back arches as my face buries into her neck on her good side and she calls out to God and me through several different intervals as I stroke in a little faster each time I pull out. The friction of my hips pushing against hers and the way her good hand scratches along my back makes me shiver. I hold out for as long as I can until she’s lying under me breathless and panting as I spill into her. I almost collapse onto her afterwards, but as the last second I remember her bad arm and roll to the side.

  Her skin is flushed pink, and her lips are swollen from the rough kisses. I brush some her hair back from her forehead with a shaking hand, and marvel at how soft it is between my fingers. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper without thinking. Anastasia chuckles as she turns her face to me, and I see her eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “Really? With the scars, the craziness, and to top it all off, my useless arm?” I lean over and kiss her bad arm, and then I kiss all along her chest until I’m almost at her nipples again. Her skin is salty from her sweat and warm against my lips.

  “Do you still like me even though I’m insane? Certifiably.” She smiles and rolls over, careful of her arm and kisses the tip of my nose.

  “That’s just my kind of crazy, Jonah Quinton, the certifiable kind.” I look at her with my eyebrow quirked at an odd angle and one corner of my lips quirked. After that, there aren’t very many words again for over another hour. Then we’re too exhausted for conversation, and I believe she’ll sleep like the dead tonight.

  * * *

  She hisses as the therapist moves her arm up and down gently. Today is the day she gets to take the sling off and start physical therapy. There are a lot of tiny movements that are supposed to lead up to miraculous results in three months. Anastasia doesn’t believe the man, but I remind her every night that it took me weeks to be normal on my medication. Besides, she was shot. That is a lot to come back from.

  “Now, I want you to do fifteen repetitions of this once a day. It will keep the muscles loose and lax for our next session in four days.” She groans with disappointment, and I cross my arms over my chest as I glare at her. She’s very intolerable.

  As we get into the car, I hear her grumbling about having to wait even longer for her arm to work right.

  “You know, if you want to get some good exercise, you could pull on something.” She slaps me on the upper arm playfully, but I see a smile tugging at her lips. We haven’t gone to see that movie, but unbeknownst to her, we’re going to see it now. I don’t care if she’s in a sports bra with a sweatshirt overtop and a pair of yoga pants. She looks more beautiful to me this way than any other way, except for naked.

  “Ugh, I just want to be able to pick up a glass with my right hand again!” I take her left one in mine as I hit the gas pedal when the light turns green. I raise a few fingers as we pass by Chief Robertson’s squad car on the side of the road, and he raises his hand in greeting with a smile.

  Henry Cooper is being charged for kidnapping, assault, destruction of evidence, and a slew of other misdemeanors along with federal crimes that will keep him in jail for a long time. One day he will get out, when he’s an old man, and I’ll be waiting on the other side of those bars to enact my own justice. Anastasia seems to think he’ll be dead before then because he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut in prison, but just in case the criminals in their don’t get to him first, I’ll be waiting.

  “Where are we going?” I glance over at her and try to loosen the grip I have on the steering wheel. I don’t want to think about Henry Cooper anymore.

  “The movies. I figured we’d celebrate you getting your arm out of the sling. Don’t worry, I’ll hold the popcorn.” Her signature eye roll makes me smile, and I turn into the parking lot for the theatre. I’m true to my word. I hold the popcorn.

  Anastasia

  I step out into the dewy grass of midsummer and raise my face to the sunshine. Norman brushes against my legs as he leaps past me into the yard with his tail swishing wildly. It’s heartbreaking at moments like this when he reminds me of May, and then he rolls in the deer shit by the new barn. He’s nine months old, and he’s driving me insane, certifiably.

  This morning marks the one year anniversary that I found Jonah Quinton lying on my father’s farmhouse front lawn naked. My lips quirk up at the corners as I remember that day, and how afraid I was of what the people in town would think of me. Since I’ve lived a year here as an adult, I’ve found out that a lot of the people in town are just as crazy as me or worse. So I fit in quite well here.

  The sound of hammering reaches my ears, and Norman takes off like a streak of lightning across the lawn with a few gummy turds still stuck in his fur. I raise both my hands above my head as I stretch, and glance down at the scar from the bullet through my shoulder almost a year ago. Sometimes during bad weather, the arm will throb with the ghost of the pain I felt when I was shot. But I’ve regained full use of it.

  My ankles brush against the top of the grass as I walk across the lawn to the barn, and peek my head in the door to see what Jonah is up to. It looks like he’s still attempting to repair one of the stalls that the stallion he bought three weeks ago kicked down. The horse is feisty, but Jonah is hell-bent on understanding what makes that beast tick. I just like to tickle behind his ears when he feels like behaving.

  “Norman rolled in the deer dung again!” I call out to Jonah, and I hear his grunt of frustration. He doesn’t sound surprised. There must be something about dogs on this farm that like to roll in any type of feces they can find. I make sure to keep Norman out of the stallion’s pasture as much as I can.

  “I’ll hose him down before lunch.” Jonah calls back to me, and I tiptoe through the barn in my flip flops to see how he’s coming along. The corn is growing nicely, and he’s already talking to a few suppliers that might want to buy.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be up for dinner tonight?” He’s been p
romising to cook tonight for weeks now, but I’m not sure that he’ll feel like it after all this work in the barn. Jonah peeks his head up above the stall door and smiles at me as he puts his chin on his arms.

  “I’ll be up for dinner, and much, much more.” The twinkle in his eyes makes me suspicious. He’s had this look for over a month now, and it makes me feel like there is some inside joke I’m missing. I shrug a shoulder and don’t believe him, but I let him have his illusions. After he comes in, he’ll ask me to order something from in town, and we’ll pick it up. That’s how it usually goes on days like this.

  “Alright, if you say so. I’m going to get back to work.” The door to the stall slowly opens, and the twinkle in his eyes gets a little brighter as he stalks towards me. “What are you doing?” I look at him warily and start to back away, but it’s too late. Jonah pulls me up into his arms like I’m a bride being taken over the threshold, and he carries me up into the hayloft.

  “You.” He responds to my question with a cheesy grin, and I forget about getting back to work. Who could remember anything with a man like Jonah pulling off his shirt to reveal his hard muscles? He’s bulked up since he started farming, and I rather like the change.

  “What about Norman?” I ask breathily as he pulls my earlobe between his teeth.

  “Norman is fine. He’s probably chasing Rudy around the farm like a nut already.” After he pulls off my tank top, I forget all about the fact that Rudy is a one thousand pound mustang and Norman is a sixty five pound pup yet. Who knew rolling around in the hay could be so fun?

  * * *

  It’s quarter past seven, and I’m tapping my foot impatiently on the floor as I try to dive into a book on my new eBook reading device. I can smell the steaks cooking, and I know that they’re going to be medium rare, my favorite. I wonder if he’s doing this because it’s been exactly a year since I met him, or if there is something else special he has planned. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles.

  I’m not supposed to know what’s cooking, but steaks have a distinct scent.

  My hair fans out behind me as I flop back onto the pillows and let the kindle rest beside me, still in my hand. I hum as I stare at the ceiling, and I try to control my mouth watering so that I don’t look as bad as the dog when he’s being fed. Just as I think I cannot take it anymore, I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer to the room. I hold my breath, and the door opens.

  “Okay, I think I have everything ready.” I sit up with enthusiasm and walk to the kitchen behind him in bare feet. He’s wearing nothing but socks, so I assume I don’t need to be wearing shoes for this occasion.

  I’m suspicious when I see the flickering light from the kitchen, and my suspicions are confirmed as I slip through the doorway. The kitchen has been transformed into a scene from a fine dining restaurant. Candles adorn the table along with a white tablecloth. He must have bought that sometime because I don’t remember it. Other candles are placed around the kitchen to light the entire room with flickering luminescence.

  I no longer harbor the thought that this might be a special occasion for Jonah. He is definitely celebrating something here. I’m seated at the table by my chef, my waiter, and my live-in boyfriend. I smile as I see that he remembered where the fork and knife go. He put the glasses on the wrong side, but I won’t tell him that.

  “Voila! Dinner is barely cooked steaks with mashed golden Yukon potatoes, and a side of red beet salad.” I quirk an eyebrow at the salad, and wonder if he realizes he’s supposed to serve that first. I’m too starved to say anything, and I’m not that nitpicky out loud.

  “Thanks, so where’d you learn how to make the salad?” I flick my eyes to the counter when he does, and see my trusty laptop sitting with the lid down. “Ah, good old Google.”

  We eat in silence for a few minutes as if neither one of us know what to say. I tell him the salad is delicious. He responds appropriately with a thank you. The dog sniffs my foot and gives me a very wet kiss between the toes. I feel as if the tension in the room is growing to a palpable amount. My plate is whisked away to the sink, and desert is removed from the fridge.

  My mouth waters at the lemon meringue cupcake in front of me and I unwrap it slowly. Jonah is sitting with a glaringly nervous face, and I pull the cupcake away from my mouth right before I’m about to take a big bite out of it. My eyes narrow and I tilt my head at a questioning angle, but he’s not budging.

  “You’re not going to eat yours?” He’s staring at my hands, and I feel a little weirded out. Has Jonah finally lost his marbles for good?

  “Yeah, yeah I’m going to eat mine. Sorry, just spaced for a second.” He grabs his cupcake and downs it in three bites. I mumble something about poor manners and conveniently forget that I was going to do the same to mine earlier. I help him clean up desert, and I’m about to head back to the room when he lays a hand on my shoulder and spins me around.

  “I’m sorry. I meant to do this at the table. I just didn’t know how to say it. I’m not really gifted with words I guess.” He cups the back of my head gently and brings my mouth up to his. The kiss is gentle, hesitant, and I can almost taste his fear. It’s then that I feel the bulge in his pants, and it’s not the kind I’m used to feeling.

  Jonah pulls away from me and leads me back to my chair. He sits me down in it and paces in front of me a few times with both his hands running through his short, dark hair. I see the flash of nervous energy in his stormy, gray blue eyes and wonder what has him so riled up. I also wonder what is in his pocket that is square, small-Oh shit!

  Just as I’m about to lose my nerve as the knowledge flashes through my mind, Jonah stops pacing and kneels down in front of me on one knee. He takes my left hand in his and starts to talk, but I’m barely hearing what he’s saying. Something about the fact that we’ve made it through a year together, and he wants to make it through a lifetime. He’s talking about a wedding, a family, and a commitment that is much more than just a ring on my finger. It’s a tying of the souls.

  My breaths are coming fast and short as he pulls the box from his pocket, and when he opens it I stop breathing. I don’t know how long I sit there on the chair with my breath held and my eyes growing misty. It’s long enough that I’m probably red in the face, and Jonah looks worried about my response.

  “I can get another ring,” He says, unsure. I feel my bottom lip tremble, and then I begin to chuckle with a watery sound.

  “Oh God, I don’t care about the ring! I mean it’s beautiful, absolutely stunning. You spent too much on it! How much did you spend? Oh God-” I cut myself off before I can say anything else that is stupid and racing through my mind. Jonah swallows as he tries for small smile, and I finally look at his eyes.

  Deep therein the sea of blue and gray, I see his calm resolve. Jonah Quinton wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and in that split second moment I forget all about the fears of having a family and what could possibly go wrong. I want him, in more way than one.

  “Yeah, I mean yes!” Norman is upset by our strange behavior and gives us both an odd glance before he leaves the kitchen. The poor dog didn’t get scraps tonight, and he’ll repay me for that by rolling in the largest pile of dung he can find tomorrow morning. God I love that dog, and the man who hoses him off every day.

  Jonah’s fingers are steady as he pulls the ring from the box and slips it on my left ring finger. I feel the weight of it settle on my skin and marvel at how right it feels. I won’t be wearing this while I’m working in the barn with Jonah, but I will keep it with me at all times. It’s a reminder of the fact that I’m going to marry the man I love more than anything in this world.

  “You’re crazy.” I tell him as I stare at the ring. He grins at me as it flashes in the light of the candles. The tiny diamonds are like a million stars lighting up the sky.

  “I’m you’re kind of crazy, right?” I smile at our code for ‘I love you’, and lean down to kiss him until my lips hurt and my chest is tight from not breat
hing. We don’t make it to the bedroom for another couple of hours, but we’re already consummating the marriage before it even begins.

  * * *

  Three days later, we’re standing in the kitchen of the cabin with my father’s ashes in a tiny urn. It’s amazing how a one hundred and sixty five pound man can be reduced to just a few pounds of ashes. My finger traces the rim of the urn and the ring flashes in the sunlight. I’ve already explained to my dead father that I’m now engaged to the man he tried to keep me from. Maybe he just knew that Jonah wasn’t ready for something like this yet.

  My breath catches in my throat when I think about the fact that he won’t be at my wedding to walk me down the aisle. But he’ll be with me in my heart, and that’s what matters. Jonah’s hands slide over my shoulders, and he kneads some of the tension away. I’ve had these ashes for a while, and now it’s time to spread them where my father loved it best.

  He built this cabin for himself as a retreat from everyday farm life. It seems fitting that he should be spread on his favorite piece of this property. I pick up the urn in both my hands and follow Jonah out of the cabin.

  I sit down on the brand new bench that we brought up along with the urn, and hold the small, ceramic object in my hands for a long time. Jonah doesn’t interrupt my thoughts at all as we sit. I wonder if he’s thinking about all the good times with my father, and about the fact that his mother loved my father. He came clean about that yesterday, and I wasn’t shocked by the confession. My father would not keep company with a woman like he did with Jonah’s mother without falling for her.

  My eyes are free of tears when I finally open up the urn, stand, and walk around the cabin as I tip the ashes out. Jonah is still sitting on the bench when my circle is complete, and I sit next to him as we watch a burst of wind take the ashes away. My father’s essence will be spread through this property within the next hour, but I’ll always think of this beautiful spot when I think about him.