‘He’s not paying me anything ... and this is not work,’ he answered with a wink, causing me to smile.
‘Then what is it?’ I countered.
He changed the subject. ‘You must be hungry. Keith tells me that you never eat breakfast.’
‘Is that right? I never imagined that my eating habits would be a topic of your conversations.’
‘Well, our first stop will be lunch,’ he said, pulling into a parking garage.
The restaurant was a small Moroccan place on 9th Ave and not much to look at from the outside. I remember thinking that the dining room was very dimly lit for the middle of the day, creating an ambience of mystery.
‘Wow, the food must be great here,’ I commented, noticing the place was almost full and thinking that was also odd for such an obscure little dive. We were seated at a table near a circular clearing in the centre of the room and next to a bunch of middle-aged women on a ladies’ lunch.
Evan, familiar with the menu, walked me through the choices and helped me select. He declined silverware, opting to share our dishes in the traditional fashion – with our hands. Before long, he was helping me understand which condiments go with each dish and slipping me a sample inside a torn piece of flatbread. I asked him for another taste simply for the opportunity to have him place his fingers in my mouth again. I could tell that he was just as happy to oblige, and he ended up feeding me almost my entire meal.
Between bites, he told me about his time spent in the Middle East studying archaeology for a semester. I began to see why Keith always spoke so highly of him. I always wore my accomplished resume on my sleeve. Meanwhile, Evan was full of impressive experiences and worldly insight with his modesty making me feel like a show-off. I was caught up in one of his stories and equally lost in his eyes when a beautiful belly-dancer rang a small bell and drew our attention to the centre of the circle.
She was joined by a trio of musicians and another dancer. Once the music started, they instantly began to make their way around the tables, their fluid hip movements mesmerizing everyone. I clapped along with the music, prompted by Evan’s improvisational drumming on the table. Suddenly she was at my side, inviting me to join her. The women next to us were already out of their seats, excitedly trying out moves as the other dancer instructed. I cringed at the idea of joining in, having never relished the notion of trying anything in public with which I was not already familiar.
Evan reached for my hand and placed it into hers. ’I, for one, would love to see you shake those hips of yours,’ he whispered, nodding in her direction. And so I did something so very uncharacteristic: I took a risk at looking ridiculous in exchange for the thrill. The dancer pressed herself against me from behind, matching my silhouette and sliding her hands onto my hips to guide me in slow motion through the mechanics of her gyrations. I glanced at the other women and noted that none of them were getting the special attention that I was. Evan’s satisfied look suggested that he had planned the whole episode in advance, even arranging my more intimate instructions.
She smelled of jasmine and vanilla, and her hair fell past her shoulder and onto mine, her whispers of encouragement tickling my ear. The music was as foreign and exotic as the beauty winding behind me and it only took a bit more goading from Evan for me to decide not to disappoint and meet the challenge with my usual initiative. As I became accustomed to the movements, the belly-dancer increased her tempo, and Evan continued to drum his beat on the table with enthusiasm. I loved the sensual power of this ancient art form and found the lustful concentration in Evan’s eyes exhilarating to say the least. His gaze was glued to me, and I was imagining what it would be like to give him an instant replay in the nude. When the music changed, the two dancers returned to the centre of the circle with a melodic duet of shimmering finger cymbals to continue their routine alone.
We didn’t stay for the rest. Evan paid the bill and we were laughing our way down the street at how he thought I must have been a sultan’s concubine in a previous life. Fittingly, we passed a tarot card reader and he abruptly stopped in front of her door. ‘Let’s find out,’ he said and rang the buzzer.
There is no way that I would have ever stepped foot in such a place without Evan’s impromptu suggestion. For what purpose? I always believed that kind of thing was for crackpots and suckers, and I certainly refused to be made a fool of by anybody. But looking at Evan with his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin and a glint of adventure in his eye, I entered with mild intrigue.
She didn’t waste any time, sitting us down across from her on a green velvet sofa for what she called a “Karmic Reading”. With knotted, gnarled hands that moved like silk, she laid the cards in front of me and began. ‘You have lost something dear to you and don’t know where to find it,’ she murmured and I nodded, playing along. ‘You were born with a longing left over from your past life, a longing you carry with you until this day.’ She turned another card. ‘You will suffer more loss before you find yourself fulfilled.’
‘Well, this is a real drag,’ I scoffed with exaggerated drama and giggled to Evan about the absurdity of the whole thing.
‘You love deeply – intensely,’ she continued, undaunted by my cynicism, and turned another card. ‘You have yet to know the full power of this love, but it is near if you will only accept it.’ I’d heard enough and hastily thanked her before excusing myself to wait for Evan outside. Trite as the old hack was, she hit a chord that I wasn’t ready to hear.
‘Too close for comfort?’ Evan asked, joining me for the walk back to the garage.
‘That stuff is total bullshit. Don’t tell me you believe that crap,’ I said, hoping that the old adage, Methinks thou doth protest too much, would not be attributed to my dismissive reply. He quietly stared at me for a few moments before speaking, while my gaze flitted anywhere but back in return.
‘You do know what she said could apply to anyone. That’s how they make it seem so real,’ he stepped in a little closer and wrapped my dragging scarf neatly around my neck. ‘I mean, who can say they’re totally fulfilled, right?’
I took an exasperated breath. ‘You know when someone asks me how are things, I’ve always said “Who, me? I’m great – got it all under control”, but I can’t even manage to get that bullshit line out anymore.’ Such a sudden blurt of honesty took me as much by surprise as it did Evan and I quickly busied myself with putting on my gloves, hoping that the comment would go unremarked.
‘It’s OK to feel overwhelmed, Sabrina,’ he said softly, the words dripping from his lips like a soothing elixir. ‘You don’t have to be invincible.’
‘I don’t?’ I asked in a deadpan tone, half-joking, half-serious. ‘Who’s going to let me take a day off from being everything to everyone?’
‘I am. And this is your day off,’ he said with an extended arm for me to slip my leather cloaked hand into. I readily accepted his invitation.
‘It’s supposed to be your day off,’ I reminded him as we started again back to the car.
‘Let’s just call it our day off ... together,’ he resolved and draped his arm around me for added warmth. It was just about inappropriate, but in the chilling wind, the gesture could have merely been received as an act of chivalry from a well-mannered gentleman. Still, even through the thickness of our heavy coats I could feel my skin burn with excitement in the shelter of his closeness. Perhaps the only scandalous bit was the way I imagined heading to a hotel to finally feel those arms wrapped around my waist as he plunged into me.
The drought between my legs was making me feel like a horny teenager, but the beauty of his character created quite a different reaction. I wanted to share myself with him, my thoughts, my dreams. I was bursting at the seams for a chance to have a conversation marked with plain truth and bare emotion. It had been months since Keith and I shared more than a comment about the news or the price of home heating oil. What was bottled up inside of me was simply eating me alive, and while driving uptown to our next destination, I le
t most of it pour out onto Evan’s lap.
‘You can’t imagine how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer. Keith is just withering away before my eyes, and I just don’t know how to reach him.’ He let me speak, listening intently. ‘I have been nothing but supportive; encouraging him to return to his work, to take control of his life again ... But nothing seems to help. I don’t even know him anymore. The man I married wouldn’t let anything destroy him like this. Not even the loss of his legs. The accident, it broke him ...’ I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and propped my hand under my chin as I absently watched a tugboat cutting through the Hudson. ‘It broke him and it’s breaking my heart.’
Evan put his hand on my knee in gentle reassurance. ‘He loves you, Sabrina. You cannot know how deeply.’
‘He may still love me, but he’s been so distant for so long that I’m starting to forget what his love even feels like.’ I breathed a hard sigh and turned to him. ‘I know it’s terrible to think of myself when he’s the one who has lost so much. But the truth is that I lost a lot in that accident, too. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to get it back.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ he said.
‘Shouldn’t what?’
‘You shouldn’t feel terrible,’ he pronounced simply and pulled over into a small parking lot adjacent to the river.
I started to contest his absolution of my guilt, but he took my hand so tenderly that it just made me want to say, ‘Thank you.’
He smiled back, sincerity gleaming in his dark grey eyes. ‘Keith wants you to have fun today – not get all hung up on the sad stuff.’ He smiled a little wider now. ‘It’s my mission to put a smile on your face, and nothing’s going to get in my way – you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I responded in a disciplined tone, managing a small smile of my own. He was jumping out of the car and proceeding to help me from the passenger seat in no time.
Stepping into the wind whipping off the Hudson, I instantly shielded myself from its icy onslaught, turning and noticing a helicopter about 100 feet away. In response to the inquisitive look on my face, Evan nodded his head. ‘Yeah, we are taking a ride on that thing.’
I was blown away. A helicopter ride over Manhattan was something I had always wanted to do but had never made the time for. Some of the most invigorating experiences in New York go completely ignored by the people who live there. Nothing like taking something for granted until all that’s left are missed opportunities, I mused as we strolled over to the office to check in. ‘How did you know this was on my “have to do before I die” list?’ I asked Evan while the attendant behind the counter ran his credit card.
‘Keith told me,’ he answered.
‘You two have been planning this for a while, haven’t you?’
He shrugged mysteriously before saying, ‘Long enough.’
The pilot cranked the engine and exhilaration rushed through my body as the beating rotors pounded in my chest. The churn was slow at first, a sultry drumming like a resting heartbeat and then faster and faster, until I beamed with excitement as I watched the ground take leave beneath us. And when I looked up at Evan with childlike wonder in my eyes, he was always looking right back at me, seemingly more intrigued with my growing smile than the sights that abounded all around us.
I pointed to the Statue of Liberty and he leaned over to take a look out my window. As he did, I looked back to register his reaction, and he grazed my mouth with his. It was an accident and the moment was brief, but just long enough to tempt us both. The kiss we shared was sweet and delicate with the ginger touch of uncertainty, each of us unsure of the other’s response. Yet it soon grew with the confidence of reciprocation, as each tongue shamelessly solicited the other. That kiss was as powerful as the rotor blades were deafening. Eyes closed, I felt like the world had been stripped away, leaving only Evan and I and persistent desire smouldering between us. Suddenly I wished to land, so that his tongue might be able to explore the rest of my body in private. When he abruptly pulled away, I read the words ‘Not like this’ passing his ruddy lips.
Since I thought he’d only disrupted our kiss because of the limitations of our surroundings, I was confused and then mortified when he was unresponsive to my advances once we were alone back in the car. A few times, I started to ask him what was going on – why the sudden change – but his concentrated expression kept me quiet. He was in his own world, his mind ticking away on something while I simply sat confounded and indignant next to him on the trek to the suburbs.
I was preoccupied as well, guiltily reliving the feel of his lips while my return home loomed. When the day turned into evening and we neared our exit off the parkway, I wondered what in the world Keith had expected of my day with Evan.
Once inside the house we found Keith exactly where I expected: in his wheelchair watching the Discovery Channel with a glass of wine. The smile with which he greeted us contrasted starkly with our stiffened expressions. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘sit down and have a drink with me.’ Evan took my coat and I kissed Keith softly on the cheek before taking a place on the sofa. ‘Did you have a good time, love?’ he asked.
‘It was a crazy idea, Keith, but yes, I did enjoy myself,’ I answered, pulling off my boots and tucking my feet underneath me.
‘Let me ask you, Evan. Did you two have fun?’ Keith’s eyes were bright with intensity as he motioned for him to sit.
‘We had a great time. I’d say it was a perfect day,’ Evan answered with mild enthusiasm, grabbing the open bottle of Chianti and pouring both of us a glass.
‘I’m glad,’ Keith said simply. Then raising his half-full glass, he announced in a reverent tone, ‘I’d like to propose a toast.’ We raised our glasses in turn. ‘To Cupid and his uncanny ability to find the right match for those deserving of love.’ He smiled at both of us, but his words gave me the chills. I knew there was more. He looked at me in the matter-of-fact way I was used to seeing when he explained something. ‘Sabrina, I have to tell you something and I’m afraid it won’t be easy to hear.’ He took a breath and narrowed his eyes upon me. ‘There is a tumour rapidly growing on my brain. It’s the reason I blacked out that night and crashed my car into a tree.’ A heavy sigh came through his clenched teeth and the next words were even more painful. ‘It’s inoperable and I’m dying. They say I have about three months, maybe four.’
I sprung out of my seat and threw my arms around him; climbed into his lap and blanketed him with desperate kisses. ‘No, no, no. No, please, no,’ I begged for him to say it wasn’t true.
He held tight, stroking my hair and whispering ‘Ssshhh. Don’t cry, love. I’ve had some time to accept my fate. Yours, my sweet, doesn’t have to be as grim.’ I pulled away with my tearful eyes full of question, confounded by what he meant. He held my face and drew my lips back onto his in a deep, emotional kiss as if it were the last time he’d ever taste them. And then he stopped, gently guiding my chin toward Evan, who was seated only a few feet away.
Evan was already staring at me with a look of compassion that revealed his prior knowledge of Keith’s news. When he took my hand and slowly leaned into me, I was frozen in shock, and in truth, curious anticipation. He kissed my salty tears, softly and with a sensitivity that made me flood with an uncontrollable desire for more of his tender affection. Simultaneously, Keith drew my hair over one shoulder and dragged his moist lips and tongue over the back of my neck while I became dizzy from the duo of mouths dancing on my skin.
The agonising news seemed to amplify my senses as adrenaline mixed with sorrow and my body seemed to yearn for both Keith’s reassurance and Evan’s consolation. As they each showered me with their sweet kisses, a third sensation seemed to arise; I was startled to find myself lusting for both of them. Keith appeared to have anticipated this reaction and was reaching under my arms to busy his fingers with the buttons on my blouse. I tensed up, looking at him with trepidation and he replied with conviction, ‘I know that you have been suffering. Let Evan g
ive you what I can’t, love; a future.’
Keith pulled me back against his chest, spreading the fabric away from my breasts and off my shoulders. Then with a dexterous flick of the fingers, he continued to rid me of my bra as well. He lifted my head to expose the full length of my neck and I rested there, bare to my waist like an offering from the gods, while Evan stood over us deciding momentarily what he wanted to taste first. When his hot mouth engulfed my nipple, I cried out with a thankful moan for the tingling pleasure I’d longed for but had almost forgotten. He was licking at me, indeed tasting that distinctive skin constricted in want, and then sucking softly, savouring my breast as he took it full into his mouth. He lavished me with the decadently slow undulations of his tongue, electrifying every nerve and sending my mind into overdrive.
Keith placed his hands under my thighs and lifted my legs high into the air, while Evan reached under my dress to remove my panties. His mouth left my breast and his eyes locked with mine for a moment, with a lusty smile playing lightly on his lips. Then Evan let his sweet tongue slip tenderly into my needful slit and relaxing my head back onto Keith’s shoulder, I sighed with appreciation for his splendid technique. Like rolling waves against my clit, his tongue seemed to keep tempo with my pounding heart. And when my hips began to buck, Evan let two slender fingers play deep in my silken river as Keith spread my legs wider. I arched my back and hooked my arms around Keith’s neck, using him for leverage against my rising climax.
He was whispering to me in my ear, ‘Come for him, my love. Give yourself to him.’ His words carried me to climax and I burst into Evan’s mouth, crying out with a jumbled mix of all my conflicting emotions.
Keith kissed me one more time, sweetly now. And with an unblinking gaze he directed, ‘Upstairs, the both of you – alone.’
He was so definite in his tone that it seemed like a prophetic decree, not to be contested. Not that I wanted to. I was in pain and in shock and in love all over again with my husband for his remarkable complexities. I wanted to please him, and I had to admit that I wanted to please myself. He’d always known my silent desires, and his blessing for Evan and I was his final gift to me.
Bittersweet (Xcite Romance) Page 2