The shock was obvious, but when he reached for his gun, Ryder shook his head at him. “I wouldn't do that if I were you. Eddie, tell him to drop his weapons."
She did and the man did as he was told, very reluctantly.
"Gather them and put them in the vehicle, Eddie,” he ordered. “I've got you covered.” A grin crossed his face as she did what he said immediately. That's my girl. “Now, get in the driver's seat and get ready to leave."
When she did, he walked backward to the door, jumped up on the foot rail, kept the gun trained on the man spitting daggers at him and said, “Drive now. Let's get going."
With a flurry of spinning wheels, Eddie got them out of there and in seconds they couldn't even see the man. She stopped when he told her to, and he climbed in on the passenger side. Silence reigned as she drove again.
"You may as well get some sleep, Ryder. I'll drive for a few hours then we can switch off."
It sounded like a good plan to him. He rested his head against the window and settled the assault rifle between his legs, where it was within immediate reach, and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Ryder looked at the woman sleeping beside him. She had been very quiet since they boarded the plane. The captain had just announced they would be landing in a few minutes, and she had still not awakened.
"Eddie,” he said softly. “Come on, baby, wake up."
When they had changed planes, he'd placed a call to Colonel Nowell, telling them when they'd be arriving. Now that they were circling the Dulles International Airport, he wanted to stop time.
She stirred and looked up at him, her amazing walnut brown eyes still cloudy with sleep. “Are we landing?” Her question was hushed.
"In a few minutes."
"Thank you for saving me. I know I didn't want you there, but when it came down to it, you saved my ass. Thank you."
He leaned over to her and kissed her. “You don't ever have to thank me."
They held hands as the plane landed and taxied to the gate. There was no rush to get off the airplane, so they waited for the others to disembark.
A heavy silence fell over them as they walked toward baggage claim. Ryder continually rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Her face was stoic, and she refused to look over at him. They maneuvered slowly through the crowd that seemed frantic to get back to their loved ones.
A few steps away from when baggage claim would come into view, he stopped. “Look at me, Eddie.” His heart wept from the amount of sorrow he saw in her amazing eyes.
Cupping her face, he used one thumb to trace her lips. She kissed the pad before she pivoted on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.
Ryder walked disheartened into the baggage claim area and saw her in the arms of her parents. Colonel Nowell was there as well and headed toward him, reaching out and pulling him in for a giant hug.
"Thank you for bringing her back safe."
"Right,” he mumbled, trying not to stare at her.
"She's fine, Ryder. Although I am curious as to why you are watching her like she's yours."
"I have to get back through security. I have a plane to catch. Goodbye, Colonel.” Ryder turned and began walking off.
"It's better this way,” Colonel Nowell hollered after him.
Better for whom? Because I'm pretty damn sure my heart is being ripped out. Ryder kept walking without looking back.
[Epilogue]
Eddie kept playing it over and over in her mind. Ryder Matthews walking away without a single look back. She'd longed to run after him and hold him to her. She wanted to beg him to keep her, because she loved him.
Her parents were smothering her. She just wanted to get away, and today when she told them she was going back, they just about blew a gasket. Eddie didn't care.
"I'm happiest when I can use my ability to help people in need,” she'd told them. Her mother had understood, but then she'd never had a problem with her little girl's need to help those less fortunate.
So after talking to them, she'd made two more calls, and she was soon in an airplane heading to the stop midway to her destination. She smiled as the plane banked to the left and headed toward the runway.
She got in her rented vehicle, stowed her gear, and began driving. It took a few hours, and it was dark when she shut off the engine. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out and headed for the door, knocking gently.
Her heart caught in her throat as she was faced by the man on the other side of the door. Ryder Matthews still looked so wonderful. His hair was a bit shorter, and his scruff was lighter but nevertheless there.
"Hi,” she said by way of a greeting.
"Eddie,” he breathed, pushing past the door and pulling her into his embrace. “What are you doing here?"
She stared up at him, her heart pounding erratically. “I couldn't stop thinking about you."
His mouth lowered until his lips teased hers. “I wanted to come to you so many times, but wasn't sure you'd want me."
"There's no one I'd rather have beside me. I love you, Ryder Matthews."
"Jesus, Eddie. Do you have any idea how much I've longed to hear those words from you. I love you, too, baby. I love you, too."
He kissed her. Their tongues met in a flare of passion. Ryder picked her up and carried her to his bed where he made long, sweet love to her.
When she woke later, totally satisfied, she opened her eyes to see him watching her.
"What's next?” he asked.
Eddie smiled. “I'm going back to Africa. Be my bodyguard?"
"Forever, baby. Forever."
* * * *
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Slice
© Ralph Greco
[One]
Germane's three-inch heels lightly spanked the wet patio. Sliding the glass door slowly open, she stepped up and into the dark kitchen, walked across the tan linoleum floor, past the small butcher-block table to the far right corner of the room, and stood at the silent basement stairs. She descended painfully slowly. This was the important part; mustn't rush the sound of her heels clicking on the thin wooden stairs.
So much fucking ritual, she mused as she artfully fell into darkness.
"Took your time,” the low voice greeted her from the silence of the basement.
"It took me a while to get ready,” Germane explained when reaching the bottom step. She paused to straighten her wrinkled raincoat then stepped off the last stair, around the wooden banister, and walked forward onto the cold tile.
"I called you an hour ago,” Lila admonished from her ratty high-backed chair. A splash of blue haze peed from the television in front of her. In the light, Germane could just see the tops of Lila's bare knees.
Germane continued her creep, past the closed laundry-room door, past the high video shelf, finally stopping at the high back of Lila's chair. She reached her long arms over its cloth back, resting her bright red nails on her lover's pale shoulders.
"I'm sorry,” Germane said, kneading Lila's pale skin through her strong thumbs. She lowered her arms over the thin silk of Lila's bra and began tickling the smaller woman's pointy breasts.
"You're just delaying your punishment,” Lila spat, not moving her eyes from the television.
Germane slowly removed her hands, straightened, and opened the belt around her raincoat. Lifting one sharp three-inch heel at a time, she deftly walked from the rayon splash and around to the front of the Lila's chair.
"Keep your back to me,” Lila ordered as the black woman stood in front of her.
Germane watched a silent David Letterman make faces at a guest she knew she should recognize but didn't.
"You know...” Lila started, lifting her foot to rest on Germane's bare ass. “I can't tell if I like you with or without the G-string."
I like it with, Germane thought, but Lila had ordered her bare tonight, so she was.
"Spread your legs and bend,” Lila sighed, and Germane did so, grabbing h
er ankles and spreading her ass wide as she had been instructed to always do.
"Sorry?” Lila mocked, removing her foot and moving forward on the squeaking chair. “If only you were."
Germane yelped as Lila thrust her stubby middle finger up into her dry anus. She grabbed her ankles tighter as Lila thrust her finger up to its first knuckle.
"Sorry,” Lila repeated, sliding forward off the rocker, kneeling down to meet Germane's wet sex with her hungry mouth.
[Two]
"Ge, move down just a bit,” Doctor Birch coaxed.
New baby keeping you up, huh? Germane thought; she could hear the raspiness in his usually liquid voice.
Doctor Birch's voice had been one of the reasons Germane had first started coming to the gynecologist. He seemed a nice enough man with his wide face and little blue eyes, but when he started talking—the wet patter of his speech, the delicious way words just splashed off his tongue—Germane had been convinced to trust the guy.
"Any pain?” he asked from somewhere between her legs.
"No more than usual,” Germane answered, the pressure building a bit in her pelvis. She looked up at the ceiling and tried to find the Quintan triplets, attempting to forget her endometriosis.
"Any time you want to go for that...” Doctor Birch started but stopped as Germane felt a pinpoint of pressure poke her lower left side.
"Little inflammation here,” he continued. “I'll give you something for it."
Two minutes later, Doctor Birch was taking off his gloves as his nurse left the room. The curly-haired man continued speaking to the chart in his big hands.
"You know, I forgot to thank you for a referral."
Germane sat on the examination table coaxing the flimsy robe to close over her heavy breasts. She shifted her bottom to allow the robe to close even more and then stopped herself, nearly chuckling at her modesty.
Referral? she thought as the doctor's words rang in her head.
"Who?” she asked.
"A.J. Janson,” Doctor Birch continued, making a few markings in Germane's file. “Real nice young lady."
"Oh yeah, I remember,” Germane said and suddenly did.
She had met A.J. and her mother two weeks ago in the mall, and the younger woman had taken her aside and asked if Germane could recommend someone for her “little problem.” More than a decade ago, Germane and A.J.'s cousin had been roommates in college, and Germane guessed that her rather liberal reputation went a long way in establishing a quick confidence. Germane hadn't asked what exactly was the young girl's problem ... and wouldn't dream of prying now. Still, she would like to know if everything was all right.
"You and her hit it off?” Germane asked as innocently as she could.
"Yes, real well. She's a real nice young lady,” the doctor reiterated, looking up from his notes to add, “with not a problem in the world."
Thanks, Germane thought, smiled at the chubby man, and jumped off the table.
"Um...” the doctor started, reaching for the door, “she should be here any minute."
"Alone?” Germane asked, too late to have caught herself. Doctor Birch only smiled. She knew he knew.
"Alone,” he agreed, smiled widely and left the room.
Good, Germane thought.
A.J.'s mother was okay but could be a bit of a bitch when she wanted to. She was one of those neighbors who never started a rumor but could be counted on to keep the flood going. There would be all the usual prying questions, and Germane just wasn't up for that.
A.J. she could handle, though.
Actually, Germane smiled, putting on her sweater, I'd love to see her.
There was something about the almost tomboy type of girl that was very attractive to Germane; the young girl had a quality about her that could best be described as ‘bouncy.’ She was a stunning package of long blonde hair, soft features, and big brown eyes, all tempered by a mind that seemed to flitter quickly from one thing to a next. And although Germane had not caught the girl at her best, as A.J. had been worried about her ‘little problem,’ she had been sufficiently smitten by the early twenty-something year old that she imagined she could affect some harmless flirting now.
At the very least, she could ogle the girl for a few minutes before Doctor Birch called her in.
[Three]
Good deep curves, sharp contours, and long lines; the body in the mirror was a delight to Germane. In her younger years, she had never enjoyed looking at herself; hastily drying herself after showers; masturbating with eyes shut and room dark; never checking slowly toning muscles after a workout. Love was made with lights low and music loud. But now, thirty-three and holding, Germane was digging her shape, her dark wispy turns and rises, her full open spots. She liked the woman she had grown into and delighted in taking any and every opportunity to stare long and hard at her long and lean body.
"The Peak Early Theory,” Germane whispered as she opened her legs and grabbed her right breast even harder.
Germane had seen clear evidence of the PET at her ten-year reunion. With vindictive aplomb, she had sashayed through that hotel ballroom, cutting sharp corners with her tight brown hair shining and her even tighter dress clinging. Every girl considered a babe back in 1979—or every guy called a fox—now looked old. Very old. Hell, Germane's father had those guys beat, and he was double their ages!
The girls fared worse. What marriage hadn't done to them, post-childbirth letting-go had. And all of them, from petite Lori Simons to busty Mary Ellen Reynolds, who'd all been incredible looking in high school, had “peaked early.” Germane, who at seventeen had been battling baby fat, a too long body, and hair that was always natty, looked sleek and fine in her black taffeta and lace. Hence, the proof she needed and the salvation she secretly burned for came when guy after guy—who never paid her any mind in high school—flirted with her that cool November evening. She, of course, had no interest—since her homosexuality was one of the few things about her that had peaked early—but it was a victory all the same.
And now she sat naked, her old red rocker gently moving back and forth, sneaking peeks at her long, taut, brown legs in the mirror. It was almost as if she wasn't even looking at herself, but rather that she was gazing at an attractive nude, a woman she would like to see a photograph of. A woman that Germane was delighted was herself, but at times like these could trick herself to believe possibly wasn't.
"Damn good,” Germane said aloud, and her mind drifted to the long legs of A.J. Janson. Man, how great they would look in a tight miniskirt!
"God, that little ass,” Germane whispered to herself as she spread her legs a bit more. The young girl's little rump had never once stopped moving in the waiting-room chair today—boundless, intoxicating energy.
Probably tastes as sweet as honey, Germane thought, slowly curling the dark hair on her pubis.
"Let me teach you,” she whispered, licked her lips and draped her legs one over each arm of the rocker. She repositioned her ass so her wet chocolate sex was well in view of the closet door mirror, licked her middle finger and began to tickle her waiting, hard clitoris.
"Just once,” Germane said and pushed her finger further down, stopping at her silky full lips.
"Wait ‘til I get you at lunch,” she threatened her empty bedroom. With a deep sigh, Germane thrust her index finger into herself, lifting her other hand off her plump breast and splaying it across her wide belly.
It was all Germane could do to not fall off the rocker as she watched herself in the mirror, cupping her whole hand in her crotch, lurching forward in the chair as she imagined A.J. there, kneeling between her spread legs. The swell had begun inside her as it had when she was speaking to A.J. but of course, now German could do something about it.
"Oh, let me just kiss your ass, just once. Please!” Germane growled to the still June night as she imagined watching the young girl's little bottom bounce as she kissed its bare rise.
God. Germane needed to come. She thrust her finger in as de
ep as it would go and grabbed her shaking right breast. Ten seconds more, and she'd explode.
"Oh, God, A.J.,” she growled and shook as the first wave rose to full height within her steamy long body. Reluctantly, with steel resolve and eyes wide, Germane peeled her hands away, her wet sex aching for the finish of her finger fucking, her breast quivering.
Not yet. Got to save it, she thought, breathing heavily and laying back in the rocker.
Germane's ass was slightly sticky on the hard wood seat. Her sex flooded strong juices as she tried hard not to think of how hot she really was. She slumped further back into the rocker, afraid now to stare at her heaving reflection, afraid of the deep hunger she knew would be evident in her pulsing brown eyes.
She had to have A.J. That was all there was to it! Germane's need was growing into an obsession she knew could be dangerous. Her current situation with Lila was testament to that. Germane had never wanted that ‘relationship’ to be anything more than an occasional meeting when both she and her neighbor were horny. But it had grown into much more than that. Much, much more, and Germane shuttered as her hand poised over the portable phone. It was at quiet, desperate times like these that she remembered...
* * * *
Both women had slowly displayed their sexuality in front of one another. It was a small town, and since Lila had been living in her house for close to twenty years, Germane quickly heard the gossip about her new neighbor. But separate lives, friends and careers, proximity of family kept the women from any real contact. It wasn't until the languid pose of summer—as greetings across front lawns grew into iced tea breaks and cookouts—that the women learned of their shared homosexuality and slightly unusual predilections.
At first Germane had considered herself lucky; a willing partner living right across the street! Germane had harbored a desire to be dominated from as early an age as she could remember sexual feelings. But it wasn't until she met Lila that she really had the luck to explore these feelings. Sure, there had been those few encounters with girlfriends early on ... very early on. Rolling around at a slumber party when one girl manages to fall across another's lap and a quick swat is greeted with giggles and light protest. Germane had thought the heat she felt was simply the close proximity of another girl. At the time, Germane had no idea what S&M was.
Coming Together: At Last, Volume Two Page 5