Honesty - SF8

by Meagher, Susan X

  Shifting the taller woman onto her back, Jamie crawled up her body until their noses touched. Holding onto Ryan’s face with both of her hands, she tilted her head until her lips were just where she wanted them. She played with the deep pink flesh, trailing the tip of her tongue over them, tracing their shape, their softness. With a slight pressure on the lower lip, she bade them open, smiling gently as they did so. Her tongue slid into the warm space, and she let out a little growl as she was enveloped by the moist heat.

  Ryan’s mouth felt so clean, so fresh and sweet, she was tempted to stay right where she was and just feast upon her lips until she had to leave for the airport. But her desire was beginning to grow now that she was taunting and teasing the pink flesh, and she knew she would have to put out the fire.

  Wringing every bit of pleasure she could from the tender kisses, she started to move down, using her mouth to build her lover’s need. It felt like it had been a lifetime since she tasted the firm flesh that covered her neck and shoulders, and Jamie fed hungrily, trying to imprint the sensation on her tongue.

  Her mouth sought out the always-alluring breasts, gasping in surprise when she could pull most of the warm flesh into her mouth, highlighting the dramatic weight loss that Ryan had suffered. Even though the volume had been reduced, the sweetness remained, thrilling Jamie to the core as she licked and sucked at the quivering mounds.

  Pausing to linger at the well-defined abs, she sighed when she saw that most of the cushioning layer of flesh had disappeared, leaving a rock-hard belly that was slightly concave. Her tongue traced each depression and dip, and she smiled to herself when she noticed that Ryan was tensing the taut muscles.

  Continuing to move down, she was struck with a desire and moved quickly to fulfill it. She scooted up to the head of the bed, supporting herself with a few squooshy pillows. Tugging Ryan along with her, she spread her legs and urged her lover to nestle into the space she had created for her.

  When Ryan was settled against her, she spent a few moments nibbling on a tempting ear and nuzzling against the smooth neck. "I want to be able to see your body react when I touch you," she whispered. "I need to see your breathing start to increase, watch your breasts rise and fall when you cry out."

  "Mmm," Ryan moaned, "you’ve never held me like this when you touch me. It feels nice… intimate."

  "I feel intimate," Jamie whispered. "I want to crawl right into your skin and be a part of you."

  "You are," Ryan pledged. "You are a part of me."

  Jamie's hands couldn’t avoid the perfect breasts that beckoned to her, so she began to gently knead them while she continued to play with Ryan’s sensitive ears. In mere moments the dark woman was moaning softly, her head tossing back and forth against her partner’s torso. The dark hair skimmed across Jamie’s chest, the inky blackness splayed over her fair skin.

  "Watch my hands," the blonde whispered. She could feel her partner take in and hold a breath as hands slid down her body, inching towards their ultimate goal. Two pairs of eyes were glued to the small hands as they found their target and Ryan’s legs reflexively spread wide to welcome them.

  The breath slipped from Ryan’s lips as a sibilant hiss when two determined fingers slid into her wetness, re-igniting nerves abandoned for too long. Her hands automatically raised and latched onto Jamie’s forearms, ready to redirect her should she lose her focus.

  "You feel like liquid velvet," the smaller woman sighed directly into Ryan’s ear. "I’ve missed this so very much."

  "Mmmm, me too," Ryan moaned. "Oooo…I’m so sensitive…it feels like it’s been years." Her head was lolling against Jamie’s shoulder, but she couldn’t stop from staring at the hands that possessed her so completely. Seeing her lover’s hands caress and stroke her so intimately was driving her arousal, making her feel like she couldn’t hold back for long. "Almost there," she gasped out in warning.

  "Relax, Baby," Jamie soothed, picking up the pace just slightly. "Just relax and let yourself go. I’ve got you."

  Ryan felt herself crest and hurtle over the edge, her orgasm hitting hard as Jamie’s arms cradled her. The physical sensations pulsed and thrummed through her body for long minutes, but the emotion continued to build as she felt all of her defenses crumble as she welcomed her partner back into the place in her heart reserved especially for her.

  Feeling more anxious than she could ever remember being on a golf course, Jamie tried to limber up before the start of her first intercollegiate golf match. She had slept poorly, partly from anxiety, and partly from Ryan’s absence. She wasn’t used to traveling on the economy plan and was a little surprised at their meager accommodations. The hotel was decent enough, but the sheets were rough and remarkably short for the queen sized bed. Each time she woke during the long night, her feet were completely exposed by the top sheet that refused to stay tucked in. Even the towels had been rough, as though they had been washed in strong soap with a healthy dose of bleach. Come on, Jamie, she had chided herself repeatedly. The place isn’t that bad—it’s probably as nice as any business travel place in the country. If you’re going to be a member of this team, it’s about time you learned how the other half lives. Or other ninety-nine point nine percent, as Ryan often reminded her.

  She was concentrating hard on stretching out her tense back when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned, letting out a squeal of delight as she came face to face with her mother, who was grinning widely.

  "Mom!" She threw her arms around the smaller woman, startling her a bit with the enthusiasm of her greeting. "God, I’m glad to see you!"

  "Oh," Catherine sighed, "I was a little afraid I’d be intruding, Sweetheart. I don’t want to upset your concentration."

  "No! Not at all!" Jamie cried, relieved to have some companionship. "I actually do better when someone I love watches me play." She looked a little sad as she said, "It’s been hard not to have Ryan here."

  "I’m sure it has been, Sweetheart. I assume that you were even more reluctant to leave her after her illness."

  "Yeah, it was tough," she admitted. "She’s better, and I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually, but this really took a lot out of her. I’m worried about her not taking care of herself while I’m gone."

  "Oh, Jamie, she grew up nice and strong all on her own. I think she’ll be fine for two days."

  Blushing slightly, the younger woman confessed, "I just miss her, Mom. It’s so hard to sleep without her."

  An image flashed in Catherine’s mind of the many years she had shared her bed with Jim and how calming it had always felt to know that he was close by. Even when things were going poorly between them, they had often bridged some of the distance by holding each other in the night. Shaking her head to dispel the longing, she put on a bright smile for her daughter. "One more night, Dear. I know you can get through another night."

  "Yeah," she smiled sheepishly. "I guess I can. Are you staying over?"

  "No, Honey, I have a board meeting tomorrow that I can’t get out of. I’m taking the last flight out tonight."

  "Maybe we can have dinner?"

  Catherine thought about the offer for a moment, and then politely declined. "I think you should spend some time with your teammates, Honey. I’m just here to support you, not monopolize your time."

  Leaning over slightly to compensate for the two-inch difference in their heights, Jamie placed gentle kisses on both of her mother’s cheeks. "You’re a very, very good mom," she said softly. "I’ve gotta go now, but I want you to know that your coming today means a lot to me."

  "It means a lot to me to see you participate in something that gives you pleasure, Honey. I know you’ll do well."

  Giving her a hug that squeezed most of the breath from her lungs, Jamie added another kiss and grabbed her bag to walk to the first tee.

  Catherine watched her go, shaking her head in wonder as she considered the athletically built young woman. There was a confident, rolling muscularity to her stride, and that confidence extended
to her carriage. She looked healthy, and happy, and quietly determined, and Catherine thanked God for allowing her to share this moment with her child.

  She pulled her tiny cell phone from her purse and speed-dialed a number, waiting for the machine to pick up. "Hi, Ryan, it’s Catherine. I’m in Oregon, watching someone you love play a little golf. Call me on my cell if you’d like a live course update. Oh, and Ryan? Make sure you eat a good lunch. Jamie’s orders!"

  Catherine diligently walked the course, staying well in back of the foursome to remain out of Jamie’s peripheral vision. She knew what to do because she had attended most of her daughter's high school matches and Jim had advised her on the proper etiquette to allow Jamie to concentrate.

  After the group finished the ninth hole, they were once again close to the clubhouse, and Catherine stopped in to buy a bottle of water. When she returned to the course, she had to rush to catch up. Cutting across an empty fairway, she saw a familiar figure half-lurking behind a pine tree. Marching up to him, she tapped her husband on the shoulder and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

  "The same thing you are," he snapped, obviously miffed at having been spotted. "I’m here to support my daughter."

  "Uh-huh," she said suspiciously. "Rather hard to do when you’re hiding behind trees, isn’t it?"

  "Look Catherine," he said, in a tone of voice that made her name sound harsh and unattractive, "I know she doesn’t want to see me now, but someday she will. I don’t want her to look back at this time and regret that we didn’t share it. Just because she’s angry with me doesn’t stop me from trying to be a good father."

  She was actually rather impressed by that statement, and she decided to be honest about her feelings. "That’s quite thoughtful of you, Jim. I hope things do work out that way and that you can someday share your pride with her."

  He looked down the fairway, spotting Jamie’s compact form as he said, "She’s really something, isn’t she?"

  "Yes, she is," Catherine agreed. "We’re both lucky…luckier than we deserve," she couldn’t help but add.

  He looked at her for a moment, tilting his head as if he was going to ask her a question, but then he stopped and just sighed. "I want to watch her putt. This is a hole she can probably make birdie on."

  "Okay," she said. "I think it’s wise not to let her see you, Jim. At this point it would probably upset her game."

  His shoulders slumped perceptibly as he admitted, "I know that, Catherine." He left without saying goodbye, and she felt the same old twinge of sadness that settled over her whenever they saw each other lately. It felt like a combination of nostalgia, longing, and the stark realization that whatever they had once shared was now centered around one 21-year-old woman.

  Jamie won the match decisively, and she was ebullient when Catherine caught up with her outside the locker room. "I have to call Ryan and leave her a message," she bubbled.

  "Oh, I’ve spoken to her three times already, Honey. She called me right before she left for volleyball practice. It was obvious that victory was assured at that point, and she told me to tell you that she loves you and is very proud of you."

  "That is so sweet!" Once again, Jamie threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tight.

  "She loves you, Dear, of course she’s proud of you."

  "No! It’s so sweet that you called her to keep her informed." Giving Catherine her third rib crusher of the day she said, "I couldn’t have picked a better mother!"

  At that moment, Catherine could have floated back to San Francisco, having never felt more connected to, or more proud of, her child.

  As Catherine settled into her seat on the plane, the steward approached and asked, "Mrs. Evans? There seems to be a slight error with the seat assignments. It appears as though Mr. Evans is sitting in the other row. Should we move him back here?"

  Marvelous! she thought, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes. Well, we don’t speak in San Francisco, maybe an enforced confinement will do the trick. "That would be lovely," she heard herself say.

  As usual, Jim was the last one on the plane, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw that he was assigned the seat right next to his wife. "I thought you’d be staying over," he said, looking uncomfortable.

  "No. I just wanted to be there for her first match. That was enough."

  He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking less confident than she had ever seen him. "Umm…should I ask to be moved?"

  "No. I’m perfectly willing to be civil for an hour or so. How about you?"

  Giving her a wry grin he advised, "I think I can handle it, Catherine. I’m paid $450 an hour to be civil to my adversaries."

  "Well," she said, letting out a sigh. "I hate to think that’s my role, but if you do…"

  He slipped into the spacious leather seat and gave her knee a hesitant pat. "No, I didn’t mean it that way. There’s no need for us to be adversarial."

  She nodded, and turned her head slightly to gaze out the window. Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear him say, "Do you remember the first time I took her to the golf course with me?"

  A gentle, fond smile settled on her face as she asked, "That depends," she said. "Do you mean when you used to make me ride in the cart, carrying her in her infant seat? Or when you bought her first little set of clubs?"

  "Oh, I wasn’t that bad," he chuckled, but quickly nodded and said, "I only took you with me a couple of times when she was an infant. I just wanted her to get a feel for the experience."

  "She certainly did," Catherine said. "I can still see that determined little face all scrunched up into a scowl, trying to mimic your swing. I swear, those were the world’s tiniest golf clubs!"

  "Some of my fondest memories are of the two of you, sitting on the grass, watching me warm up on the driving range." He bit his lip, looking like he was holding back tears as he choked out, "I thought we’d always be together."

  She wasn’t sure if he meant him and Jamie, or the three of them, but whatever his intent, she felt a deep pang of sympathy for him. Through all of their troubles, through all of Jim’s betrayals and broken promises, there was a glimmer of love that still remained, and she let that flickering emotion show as she reached over and squeezed his hand. His head dropped to her shoulder and reflexively she reached up and smoothed her hand through his hair. They stayed that way for a long while, neither wanting to give up the tentative, fragile connection.

  She continued to stroke his face as he whispered, "Will she ever forgive me, Cat? I can’t…I can’t bear it if she’ll never speak to me again."

  "She’s hurt and she’s angry, Jim. But she has a very generous heart. If you can apologize and make her believe that you’ve learned that you were wrong…"

  He sat up immediately, recoiling against the far corner of his chair as he said, "But I’m can’t! I’m not wrong!" He was blinking in surprise, obviously confused by her suggestion.

  "You were and you are wrong, Jim. If Ryan was the worst choice in the world for her, you were still wrong. But she’s not! She’s a wonderful young woman, and if you’d only give her a chance…"

  He glared at her, his lawyerly intimidation showing. "I’ll never give her a chance. She’s conniving her way into Jamie’s heart, but I will prove that she’s not who she says she is. I will prove it, Catherine!"

  She leveled a gaze at him, unable to see one shred of the idealistic, earnest young man that she had married. "You will prove to Jamie that you don’t trust her or her decisions. That is all that you will prove, Jim, and if you can’t see that, we’re wasting our time discussing this."

  "I should have known that she’d win you over, too." His disgust was evident as he sulked in his chair, looking more like his inner four-year-old than a man who had logged forty-six years on the planet. "I’m sure you all get along famously, don’t you, Catherine? You probably have all sorts of fun times together that only encourage Jamie!"

  "Well, I certainly hope that’s true," she replied. "I have a very good time w
ith them both. And yes, I do try to encourage Jamie to be who she is, even when it’s not my choice for her."

  "So while I’m trying to make a point, to save her from making this mistake, you’re going behind my back to help her ruin her life!"

  "Jim," she said as calmly as possible. "I don’t have a secret agenda. I’m not withholding things from you."

  "I just bet you don’t," he snarled. "You’ve always had your secrets, Catherine. I’ve never known what’s going on in your head."

  It was difficult to make Catherine lose her temper, but Jim was pushing the boundaries of her patience. During their long marriage she had almost invariably kept her opinions to herself, but she was changing and was not afraid of his censure any longer. She looked at him carefully and said, "All right, Jim, you want to know my secrets? I have one that I’ve harbored for a few years now." She leaned over until her eyes were gazing directly into his and said, "When you act like a spoiled child, I sometimes fantasize about strangling you in your sleep." She turned in her seat and got the attention of the steward, saying pointedly, "Mr. Evans would like to change seats. Can you accommodate him?"

  The irate man unbuckled his seat belt and stood, not sparing another glance at his wife. As the steward directed Jim back to his previously assigned seat, he gave Catherine a sympathetic look. "Sorry," the young man mouthed, obviously having heard some of the argument.

  Ahh, just what I’ve been missing in my life. Public arguments on airplanes. Could we be any more clichéd?