Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  His senses whirled dizzily as she guided him to her lover’s portal, and he sank into her sweet heaven. He felt her relax, stop driving for what she needed, and give way to his lead, and he had to push back the tears. Home. She tightened her grip on him, and he thrust gently, careful not to let her push him too far too soon. Even so, when she caught his rhythm and joined his dance in perfect harmony, giving him everything as she’d done in Zimbabwe, he had to think of something other than the passionately hot lover beneath him. Her long legs wound around him, and the sound of his name on her lips nearly sent him over the edge. He murmured to her.

  “You’re mine, and I’m yours. You do whatever you want with me. Let it go. Give in to me, baby.” He put his hand between them, caressed her as he accelerated his movements, and she rewarded him with a keening cry and the beginning ripples of completion that clutched at him until he shouted his release and she yelled his name in ecstasy.

  “Oh, Mason. My love. I love you so.”

  He wanted to tell her what he felt, to open his heart to her, but the words didn’t come. He kissed her eyes and her lips and laid his head on her shoulder.

  “You... I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re the only woman who’s given me this feeling of completeness. Wholeness.” His lips brushed her shoulder, and he looked down at her breasts, their smooth olive skin and dark aureoles, hard with desire. She moved beneath him, exciting him, making him proud that she wanted him when he knew he’d satisfied her thoroughly only minutes earlier. This time, she exhibited no submissiveness, but demanded what she knew he could give her, and he gloried in her womanliness.

  She’s what I need, he thought, as her hands grasped his buttocks and she lifted herself to his loving, drawing him deeper until she pitched over the edge, draining his essence and tearing at the shield in which he’d shrouded himself for thirty-seven years.

  He lay awake in the darkened room, glad that he’d slept during the day, because he didn’t intend to go to sleep nor to leave her side until she gave him her word. She stirred beside him, and he drew her closer.

  “Are you awake?” For an answer, she kissed his shoulder.

  “Be prepared, Jeannetta. I am not going back to New York City until I can take you with me. I intend to stay with you until you give me your word.” He felt her tense, but he plowed on. “Nothing and no one will make me leave here until you come with me.”

  “What about your business?”

  He turned on his side, propped himself up with his elbow and gazed down at her.

  “My next tour is ten months from now and, in the meantime, my secretary and my assistant can run the business. If they need my advice or opinion, you’ve got a telephone.”

  She looked away from him. “Are you accepting any patients yet? What about them?”

  “Not to worry. You’re my only patient right now.” He couldn’t understand her stubbornness nor what she thought she’d gain with it, so he punctuated his words. “You. Only you. And it’ll be that way until you give up this notion of being a martyr.” He could see that she bristled at the remark.

  “What are you saying? If I don’t let you operate, what will you do—go back to surgery or keep your travel agency?”

  “Honey, I own Fenwick Travel Agency. I’ve been hoping that my brother would operate it but, if he won’t, my assistant can do it. I’m a surgeon. I know that now, and that’s what I’ll be no matter what. A dozen people have asked their doctors to try and persuade me to help them, and the guilt of ignoring that far outweighs any concerns I have about performing that surgery.” He fell over on his back and encouraged her to relax on top of him. She slid into his open arms.

  “I suppose this crisis in my life has forced me to develop some humility,” he went on. “I hadn’t had much of that since I completed my internship. To tell the truth, I doubt I was ever humble, but it’s been brought home to me with hurricane force that I’m not all-powerful, and I needed to learn that.” I won’t push her right now, he told himself, reasoning that their lovemaking had probably exhausted her.

  “Can you sleep in that position?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t move and he’d have the upper hand if she attempted to leave him. He breathed more deeply when she nodded, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  She rolled off of him and burrowed into her pillow.

  “You’ve been awake for at least half an hour, and I’ll bet you’ve been lying there plotting. Your mental wheels are already preparing you for flight,” he said, his tone light as though her behavior didn’t concern him.

  “G...go back to s...sleep,” she slurred.

  “Not this time. I’m a morning man, remember? If you’d planned to move on, you’ve missed your chance. You’re my woman, Jeannetta, and I’m sticking with you. No man could do what you’re asking of me. If you don’t give me your word that you’ll go to New York City with me as soon as I can make arrangements—Tuesday at the latest—then I’ll just stay here.”

  “You make the alternative sound like a threat. Believe me, I’ve never heard of such delicious punishment.” She yawned, raised her arms above her head, stretched and purred. “It’s like giving a kid an allowance for misbehaving. Will you stay forever?”

  “Stop playing with me, woman.” He looked down at her, watching her breasts jut forward when she twisted and stretched, and his voice lacked sincerity. She couldn’t see them well, but she knew from his hoarseness that his eyes had become greenish-brown. And it didn’t surprise her when his fingers skimmed her thigh and his hot breath teased her skin seconds before she felt him suck her nipple into his mouth. She squirmed, and he couldn’t doubt that she liked it, but he raised his head.

  “You want me to make breakfast, or...”

  “Ooh,” she gasped, as his lips encircled the little brown aureole, pulling and sucking, while his fingers danced wickedly and wantonly inches away from where she wanted them to be.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” he teased, his voice dark and lusty. She swallowed hard; damned if she’d beg him. His fingers inched closer to their prize.

  “What do you want?”

  She buttoned her lip and swallowed more. If he wanted to play games, she’d do her best to accommodate him.

  “Won’t talk, eh? Okay by me.” He bent to her breast. Exasperated at his teasing, she reached for him and lovingly encircled his velvet steel. A groan erupted from his throat, but he wouldn’t give in to her. Suddenly she remembered what she’d wanted to do to him when she found him lying on the Lido beach, and she led him to his back, straddled him and took him mercilessly, wantonly, withholding nothing, until he surrendered. Until they both surrendered. Spent. She gazed down at him, but when she couldn’t make out his expression, she let her fingers graze lightly over his face. Yes, he smiled. She thought her heart would burst.

  Mason held her against him while the fingers of his left hand played in her wooly curls. Contentment permeated his whole being. Her lovemaking hadn’t been desperate; he was sure of that, but he’d give a lot to know why she’d gotten aggressive with him. He couldn’t think of anything more alien to her character. Or was it, he asked himself, remembering their tryst in the tour bus. Her arms encircled his neck, and she stretched out on top of him. Then it came to him. Jeannetta hadn’t been able to see him clearly, and she hadn’t been able to judge from his eyes his reactions to what she did, so she had let her inhibitions fly. Great for their lovemaking, but that was as far as it went.

  He got up, walked downstairs, got the reports on her clinical tests that Dr. Farmer had sent him, and reviewed them briefly. Then he went back to bed and pulled Jeannetta close. “Trust me?”

  She nodded. “You know I do.”

  He reached for the phone on the night table beside the bed, placed it on her back, picked up the receiver and dialed.

 
“This is Dr. Fenwick. Schedule surgery for tomorrow morning. The patient’s name is Jeannetta Rollins, and I’m checking her in this afternoon. Thanks.” He hung up and held his breath while he waited for her to protest or to accuse him of seducing her in order to get his way. But she said nothing, and the muscles of his belly tightened while he awaited her next move.

  Wet drops splashed on his chest. He raised her from where she lay prone on top of him, and the sight of tears bathing her face tore at his insides.

  “What is it, baby? Have I gone too far? I only want to help you before it’s too late. You have to know that I’d rather hurt myself than you. Talk to me, honey.” He listened to words that came haltingly, but firmly.

  “No. You haven’t hurt me, and I know you won’t if you can prevent it. You’ve made me feel special. Please promise me that if it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, you’ll be satisfied that you gave it your best shot, and you’ll understand that I’m content no matter the outcome. Promise me that, and I’ll go with you this afternoon.” He stared at her, his emotions so near the surface that, for seconds, he couldn’t trust himself to utter a word. Had his month of gruelling torture and guilt ended at last, and could he find the words to let her know what her trust meant to him? He held her face and he kissed her, because no words could tell her what he felt.

  “I promise. And all I ask of you is that you trust me. My chief told me last week that we doctors don’t perform miracles, but that miracles are often performed through us. If I remembered that, he added, everything would fall in place.”

  She’d been quiet while he spoke.

  “You alright?”

  Her answer was a kiss on his neck.

  “Can you be ready to go to New York with me this afternoon?” He held his breath for fear she’d procrastinate.

  “I’ll go with you.” Air gushed out of him, and he gave silent thanks.

  * * *

  “I don’t have much time to get things together here,” Jeannetta told Mason, who watched her fumble her way around the house.

  “Just pack a gown, robe, slippers, and your toothbrush, honey. We’re not going on vacation.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, and his hand went to his chest as if he could steady the fluttering of his heart from the simple gesture. He could see the pieces of his life marching toward each other and fitting themselves together in a perfect whole. Only six weeks earlier, he wouldn’t dared have imagined it. “Aren’t you going to tell Laura?”

  Jeannetta turned toward the direction of his voice. She didn’t mind the haze in which she had awakened the previous morning, because he was with her, though she knew now that she would have hated experiencing it alone. She groped for the phone, but failed to touch it.

  “Where’s the phone?” She didn’t even care if he knew how bad things had gotten. He handed it to her.

  “Laura, I’m going to New York with Mason this afternoon. The surgery is tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank God. I didn’t want to see you ruin your life for some supposed altruistic reason. I’ve never been in love, but if it makes you do unreasonable things, I don’t want any part of it. Mason looked capable to me.” Jeannetta sat down, because, once Laura got going, she preached a sermon.

  “You always did attract men, and some were good ones, too. I used to envy you, because you had the beauty, smarts, height, and all that. And I never could see why you couldn’t accept one of those nice men and settle down. Maybe now, you will. Honey, I sure hope so. I can’t close the Hideaway and go with you to New York, but, I’ll be praying for you.”

  “Thanks, Laura, and don’t worry. I’m in good hands.” Laura envious of her? She couldn’t believe it.

  “By the way,” Laura added, “that Mr. Miles called here this morning, and I told him you’re back. He is one persistent man, and you know I don’t lie.” She paused for a second, and Jeannetta knew she was about to get some unsolicited advice. “Don’t you think you should rent out your house and stay here at the Hideaway ’til you get healed up?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but it’ll be time enough to think about that when I start recovery. I have to get over this next step before I worry about the future. Mason will let you know how I am. And Laura, for once, I appreciate your meddling and telling him where to find me.”

  * * *

  Mason waited with Jeannetta in the admitting office and, later, accompanied her to her room. She placed her recorder on the little night table, sat on the edge of the bed, and Mason took a chair beside her and held both of her hands.

  “Have you so little faith in me that you brought the recorder with you?”

  She removed her hand and tugged at his arm. “I believe in you with all my heart, but this gives me something to do. I can’t sustain an interest in my novel, and that hasn’t happened to me before, so I think I’m going to scratch it. A different story plays around in my mind, and I’m going to have to write that one as soon as I recover. That’s why I need the recorder, so I can put down these ideas.”

  The phone rang, and Mason handed it to her.

  “This is Clayton.”

  “Oh, Clayton. I’m so glad to hear your voice. I’ve decided to do it, and now that I’ve made up my mind, I can’t wait to put it behind me.”

  “You have company?” He must have deduced that from the stiltedness of her conversation. She told him that she did.

  “Fenwick, no doubt.”

  It embarrassed her to admit that Mason hadn’t left the room when she got a personal call.

  “Yes.”

  It probably didn’t make sense, but she could suddenly sympathize with the filling in a sandwich, and she didn’t like the feeling. “Mason is my surgeon, Clayton, though he’s with me right now as a friend.”

  “Alright. Good luck. I’ll see you in a day or so. And don’t forget that I asked you to marry me, and that you haven’t answered yes or no. So you’re half engaged.”

  “We’ll discuss that some other time.” She hadn’t thought she would ever be glad that she couldn’t see Mason’s eyes, but she was.

  * * *

  Mason reminded himself that he’d long ago mastered his temper. “A friend, huh? I can’t wait to know how you’ll act with me when you decide I’m your lover.” He took the old keys out and looked at them; the night before, with her in his arms, he’d thought she might be his home. He tossed them about a foot high, caught them, and put them back in his pocket. Miles was after her, but what was he after, his conscience prodded. He had no answer; one step at a time, he told himself.

  “There’s nothing between Clayton and me. Surely, you don’t think I could...”

  He cut her off. “Of course I don’t think you’d make love with me if you had an intimate relationship with another man. But Clayton Miles wants you.”

  “Okay, I’ll print a sign telling men it’s illegal to want me and stick it in my hair where everybody can see it.” The laughter that rang in her words warmed his heart and eased his concern that she might get a pre-op case of nerves.

  He moved closer and took her hand. “You’ll have to add in big letters, ‘except for Mason Fenwick,’ otherwise I might find myself behind a grilled fence dressed in regulation drab blue.”

  She pooh-poohed the remark. “Not even a barbed-wire fence could hold you.”

  He draped his arm lightly around her and asked her, “Do you remember that morning on the Lido beach?” She nodded.

  “Why did you run away? I know you did, because I saw that wide gauzy shirt you wore trailing behind you as you ran. I was half asleep, but I knew someone stood there watching me. The first thing a doctor learns when he begins residency is not to sleep soundly. What happened?”

  Her left hand grazed his chest, and he held her closer.

  “You’d be shocked. You should have seen yourself lyin
g there at my mercy, almost completely nude with sweat beaded on your body.”

  He heard her swallow and told his libido to get lost.

  “I almost gave in to an impulse to strip that little G-string off of you and make love to you then and there. My hand had actually reached toward you when I came to myself. If you’d felt what I did, you’d have run, too. The violation of your person would have been against the law.”

  He couldn’t suppress the mirth that boiled up in his throat and came forth in peals of laughter.

  “Baby, believe me, you wouldn’t have done anything illegal, because you would have had my complete and eager cooperation. I can’t think of anything that could have excited me more.”

  She gasped in astonishment. “On a public beach?”

  He grinned as the picture of it flashed through his mind. “Well, hell, honey. You were barely speaking to me in those days, so I’d have taken what I could get when I could get it.”

  “I can just see the salacious newspaper headlines for which the Italian paparazzi are famous—‘African-American man and woman heat up the Lido.’ Or maybe ‘American blacks show how it’s done.’”

  “Alright. Let’s not get carried away. Anyhow, I think you ought to get some rest, because you and I have an early appointment in the morning. I’ll stay with you until you’re asleep.”