James laughed at the way Maggie always seemed to put the cart before the horse. It had annoyed him at one time, especially when they were in high school and she had pressured him to commit to spending the rest of his life with her before going off to basic training. He found it endearing now though, especially when she talked about their future together.
“I doubt we’ll stay in that little house for long,” he reminded her. “Hell, I don’t even know if we’ll stay in Maryland long after I get back.”
She shrugged her shoulders but didn’t let his attention to details detract from her enthusiasm. “I don’t care where we are! I just want to make cute McAllister babies with you!” she laughed, her golden curls shaking around her face.
He loved her laugh, how she threw her head back, lips spread, her straight white teeth gleaming. “You look tan!” he commented, seeing her cheekbones highlighted by the glow of the lamp. “You just laying by the pool all day or what?”
She shot him a smirk with her lip curled before erupting in more laughter. “Hardly!” she protested. “I have been mowing your yard! I think the neighbors are confused though. I told them I was your fiancée and they all just sort of looked at me funny.”
James glanced down for a moment as it hit him why his neighbors would find it confusing to see a tall blonde woman living at his house and claiming to be his fiancée. They’d seen Sarah at his house so many times in the prior six months. “I’m really glad you found a job,” he changed the subject. “I was worried about you being lonely, not knowing anyone in town. Now you’ll have something to do and you’ll meet some new people as well.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, I’m fine,” Maggie assured him. She straightened her shoulders, “I also found a volunteer gig at the local animal shelter. I’ll be starting that next week!”
“Oh, that’s awesome,” he said, proud that she was finding her niche so early and independently. Maggie was a very driven, resourceful woman and he admired her for it.
“Besides,” she continued, “when I feel alone all I have to do is walk through your house and feel your presence and remember you will be here with me soon.”
James smiled. “The time will go fast!”
They said their goodbyes, and as he closed down the laptop, he felt his swollen cock straining against his pants. His balls were tight, aching for a release. He hadn’t had any opportunities to take care of himself since arriving on base but he was fortunate to have had some privacy for his Skype session with Maggie. He tried to imagine her watching him masturbate on webcam, but he wasn’t quite able to envision it.
He conjured up the image he’d just witnessed: her tan shoulders, the strap of her top sliding down her arm a little, the hollow space between her breasts, the happy realization she wasn’t wearing a bra. He imagined lifting up her top, revealing her small peachy-brown areolas, remembering her hard nipples and what they felt like against his lips.
He unfastened his camo pants and pulled out his stiff member, starting to imagine Maggie’s soft lips wrapping around his hardness, as if she was kneeling below him between his legs. He began to stroke himself, thinking about how urgent his need had suddenly become and how little time it was going to take for him to release. Long slow strokes, prolonging his climax for a bit, thinking of thrusting into her mouth, his hands laced through her curls, guiding her head up and down on his cock. He closed his eyes, the intensity starting to grow, the strokes becoming faster.
His grip tightened as his hand moved up and down his shaft, his cock growing impossibly hard as his imagination continued playing out the fantasy behind his eyes...only suddenly his hands were laced through thick brunette waves, not golden curls. The eyes looking up at him were dark brown, not light hazel. Full ruby lips curled into a smile as he pulled his cock from her mouth and spurted thick white ribbons all over her ivory skin, her cheek, her neck, dripping down between her lush, full cleavage.
Those lips and alabaster skin unmistakably belonged to Sarah.
***
“I got a letter from him,” Sarah revealed as she stabbed a piece of broccoli.
Rachel looked up from her salad as her lips spread into a surprised grin. “It’s about damn time!” she exclaimed. “What the hell took him so long?”
Sarah shrugged. “He wants to call me,” she said. “I don’t know if I should talk to him.”
Her best friend’s eyes looked tired. Her pregnancy was taking its toll and she’d already endured several sleepless nights. But there was a tranquility that had enveloped her since the wedding that Sarah had never witnessed in the eleven years she’d known her. “You’ll talk to him,” Rachel replied knowingly. “I can’t imagine you refusing to speak to him.”
Sarah laughed, “Well, I did consider it anyway.” She finished chewing and set her fork down on the table. “He said he wants to be friends.”
“I told you he cares for you.” Rachel copied her friend, also resting her fork against her plate. “We talked about this in Colorado, remember? He is at odds with the two sides of himself. He thinks marrying Maggie is what he is supposed to do. It makes sense to him. It appeals to his sense of tradition.”
“I know,” Sarah agreed. “It’s just hard for me to imagine being with him...being in the same room with him and not touching him...kissing him...making love to him.”
“So you don’t think you can be just friends?” Rachel questioned.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, trying to envision the scenario. “While he’s gone in Afghanistan, sure. But what if he wants to see me when he gets back?”
“I think he will want to see you,” Rachel predicted. “It will be interesting, that’s for sure. I also wonder if he’ll be able to keep his hands off you.”
“So where are you with baby names these days?” Sarah inquired, shifting the subject. She didn’t want to think about James anymore...at least not today, she decided.
“Still at a stalemate,” she replied. “At least when my amnio results come back we will know which gender to aim for. Cuts our work in half.”
“Very practical,” Sarah laughed. “So any plans the rest of the week?”
“Not really. Jack has an out of town gig on Friday night. Why?”
Sarah finished chewing and dabbed at some salad dressing on the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve been talking to one of my colleagues in the theater department and he’s urging me to audition for the community production of South Pacific,” she said. “He’s directing it. I thought it might be fun for Abby and I to both go out for it.”
“Oh, you mean Xavier?” Rachel asked, dreamily remembering her friend’s very attractive, but very homosexual colleague and their debaucherous night on the town a year or so ago.
“Yes, Xavier, who is still very much gay,” Sarah giggled. “Anyway, the audition is Thursday night and I wondered if you would care if Owen hung out at your house, since you’re so close to the theater and all.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem. Thomas will be thrilled. He just got a new video game,” Rachel replied. “Means I shouldn’t even see them for a solid hour or two! Hope Gia will leave them alone though.”
“Oh, it’s good practice for them to be tormented by girls,” Sarah laughed. “Thanks for helping out. We’ll be there by 6 then.”
“So when did you get bitten by the theater bug?” Rachel teased her, eyebrow raised.
“I used to do it all the time when I was growing up,” Sarah explained. “And, honestly, I think it will be a good distraction for me. I need something else to concentrate on besides finishing my book, which is not nearly as enjoyable as it sounds.” She rolled her eyes.
Rachel nodded, seeming not to understand that the last part of the comment was facetious. “Good, can’t wait to see you on stage!”
“Should be fun!” she beamed, ditching the sarcastic tone and remembering how wonderful it was to lose herself in a role, to escape real life for a few hours every night. It’ll be like therapy.
***
> Abby was nervous and fidgety as they made their way to the audition. “I don’t know why you’re stressing out so much,” Sarah observed as she steered her red car toward the small downtown community theater. “You’ve done shows at school a zillion times!”
“I know,” Abby agreed. “But this feels different. I don’t know why, I guess cause it’s adults maybe?” She slurped down a sip of water. “My throat is full of gunk. What if my voice cracks?”
“Just relax,” Sarah advised. “Xavier guaranteed he’d give us spots in the chorus. We’ll play nurses. This is supposed to be fun, sweetheart!” She patted her daughter’s knee as she slid into a parking space and unfastened her seat belt.
Abby shuffled through the sheet music in her lap again and then slowly extracted herself from the gray fabric-covered seat. “Okay, let’s do this,” she announced with determination.
That’s my girl, Sarah thought and locked the doors with her key fob twice until she heard the honk and saw the headlights flash. She and Abby headed into the building and shuffled down the long main aisle to the stage, which was empty except for a large antique-looking upright piano spun to a diagonal angle on the right hand side. She paused by the director’s table to sign the audition sheet. Name. Age. Singing part. Role auditioning for. Contact info. Sarah wrote “Sarah Lynde, 37, Mezzo-Soprano, Chorus.” Then she added her cell phone number and email address in the final column. Abby wrote “Abigail Lynde, 16, Soprano, Chorus.”
They both took seats in the velvety crimson-cushioned chairs and waited for their names to be called while they watched the other auditioners ambling in. Maybe I should have brought Owen, Sarah thought, reading through the cast list. She hadn’t seen the show since she was in college and had forgotten there were parts for children. He might have been able to pull off the half-Polynesian son of the male lead character. He’d be such a natural on stage! she thought, thinking of his cute little animated face. Oh well, maybe next summer.
Sarah’s train of thought was derailed by the sight of a tall, athletic-figured man walking up the steps to the stage. His hair was a tufty blaze of fiery red and he moved with precision and deliberation. He stepped swiftly to the piano and handed the accompanist his music, giving her a few instructions in a low voice. Then he confidently took a spot in the center of the stage, smiled toward the director’s table and nodded at the pianist. Sarah studied his dexterous looking fingers that laid flat against the seams of his dark washed jeans, not a nervous tremble in sight. His limbs were long and straight, his shoulders broad and pushed back, his chest jutting out as his lungs filled with air.
The accompanist began the introduction and the redheaded tenor’s voice floated out toward the rafters as if it had butterfly wings. Sarah was shocked. She had been expecting deeper, grittier, angrier judging by his hair and presence but there was a delicate, ethereal quality resonating from his vocal chords as though they were made of crystal. He finished the last few bars of “Bring Him Home” from Les Miserables and the small audience of directors and auditioners was momentarily spellbound before finally erupting in hearty applause. She was sitting close enough to the director’s table to lean in and steal a glance at the clipboard of auditioners. He was first on the list: Garrett Stone.
***
The summer was quickly slipping into oblivion. Sarah spent the day after the audition cleaning out her office and polishing up the next to last chapter of her book, readying it for submission. Her agent was getting impatient as the September 1st deadline loomed. “It’s only the first week of August,” Sarah argued over the phone with her. Then she conceded, “I will have the last three chapters to you by the end of the week.”
She hung up the phone, feeling her spine grow prickly with frustration. Concentrating on her book had been an overwhelming challenge all summer long. She exited the hallway of offices and trekked down the steps of the Art and Sociology Building, then out into the courtyard. The August heat enveloped her like a suffocating embrace from an overbearing relative, the kind from which one struggles to wiggle free. Her flip flops seemed to melt into the red bricks as she made her way to a bench near the fountain.
She looked down the hill toward the library and the main part of campus. Eleven months ago today, she thought, I made my way down that hill to the panel discussion where I met James. She shook her head, incredulous that nearly a year had passed since that night. A breeze rattled through the trees in the distance and reached her in an instant, catching her gauzy white skirt and blowing it up around her thighs, revealing her hip. She laughed, only slightly embarrassed, and smoothed the fabric down, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed.
She stood up from the bench and walked down the hill around the side of the library. She traipsed down the steps in front of the turtle statue and gazed across the mall, fighting back the tears. It feels so wrong to be on campus knowing that classes are starting soon and he won’t be in his classroom. There’ll be no run-ins at the gym. No chats over coffee at Java the Hut.
She had been proud of herself for getting through the days following the receipt of his letter with a minimum of crying. For a while she found herself constantly staring at her phone, waiting for it to light up with his face and phone number announcing an incoming call, but she finally dismissed that fantasy knowing that he’d be calling from a different phone. If he calls at all, she qualified. Sometimes it felt as if he was just gone, vanished, completely absent…not that he was half a world away in the Middle East. It was more like he had ceased to exist. The emptiness, she thought, the emptiness is like a black hole. Sometimes it consumes me.
There had been a night in the past week that she curled into a fetal position, wrapping herself around a pillow, quivering with desire for him. There were no tears, no sadness, just an all-consuming longing for him permeating every cell in her body. She hadn’t been touched since the night he left. No fingers had trailed down her creamy curves; no lips had grazed her wanting flesh. She breathlessly moved her hand down to her trembling clit, her fingertip slowly parting the slick, wet lips of her sex.
She envisioned him hovering over her, propped up on his wrists, his triceps bulging in the dim light as his hard cock found passage into her softness. She imagined his breaths falling onto her neck as he buried himself in her again and again, his powerful muscles guiding him in and out of her as she wrapped her legs around him. She cried out his name as she came, spasming around her own fingers, coating them in her desire, but in her mind the fingers were him.
***
About a week after the audition, Sarah received the cast list via email from Xavier. “Look, Abby! We made it!” She called her daughter into the room and pointed to their names on the screen.
“What’s an ensign?” Abby asked, an eyebrow raised curiously.
“That’s the rank of the nurses in the show. They’re in the Navy,” Sarah explained. “We’ll have to rent the movie this weekend. Then you’ll have a better idea what the show is like and what we’ll be doing in the chorus.”
“Oh, okay, cool! Well, I guess that means we didn’t suck too bad!” Abby smirked.
Sarah scanned the cast list for other names she recognized. She saw a woman she knew who taught in the Communications department. And then she saw another name that sparked her memory by the role of Lt. Joseph Cable. It was Garrett Stone, the tall red headed man who’d delivered a soul-touching rendition of “Bring Him Home” at the audition. He was not easily forgotten.
***
Abby was studying the choral books that Boyd, the musical director, had handed out while Sarah watched Garrett on the other side of the stage talking to Xavier. He was animated, his hands flying as he spoke, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pianist. They were supposed to be warming up: “Mi, me, ma, mo, mu” on one note, then up a half step.
She watched Xavier put his arm around Garrett as they both erupted in laughter. I wonder if he’s gay? Sarah thought, then she chastised herself for making assumptions. Just bec
ause he does theater and the gay director has his arm around him doesn’t make him gay too. She giggled and dropped out of the chorus on the note “Mo” and then struggled to get back on track. Abby shot her a glare as if to say “Pay attention, Mom!”
She observed a young woman flying down the aisle shouting apologies to Xavier and Boyd. She had shoulder-length curly red hair with blonde highlights, a lush, curvy figure and carried a huge blue and white striped bag. She tossed the bag onto one of the velvet chairs before springing up the ramp onto the stage. The entire chorus stopped and stared at her, breathless, her chest heaving in her pink gingham blouse with the top button undone to reveal a hint of freckled cleavage. Sarah’s curiosity was piqued. She was the epitome of the girl next door: wholesome looking, but with hints of devilish playfulness lurking beneath the facade.
Xavier grinned as he made his way to her. “And this is our Nellie,” he exclaimed, putting his arm around her as soon as he reached her. Oh yes, Xavier is just extremely touchy-feely, Sarah remembered. He hugs everyone. Boyd remained standing behind the pianist looking less than thrilled by “Nellie’s” lateness.
“What’s up with all the gingers?” Abby whispered, rolling her eyes.
Sarah shrugged and watched “Nellie” take a seat in the front row with the other leads, the slight Asian woman playing “Liat,” the heavier black-haired woman playing “Bloody Mary,” and the salt and pepper-haired middle-aged man playing “Emile.” She turned to Emile and shook his hand, introducing herself, “Hi, I’m Tess.” Garrett took the seat next to her but they didn’t speak.
Xavier addressed the assembled cast, thanking them for being there and directing Boyd to hand out the rehearsal schedules. This is going to be fun, Sarah thought, looking over some of the music in the book, her head filled with pleasant memories of shows from the distant past. She couldn’t help but overhear one of the other younger men in the cast tap Garrett on the shoulder, “Hey, Nav, congrats on your role!”
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 36