by Sylvie Kaye
Picking up her head, she met his eyes. She expected to see a glassed-over in-the-mood look. Instead, his eyes beamed at her.
Dancing flesh-to-flesh made her feel more vulnerable and less enticing than she'd thought it would. Panic sunk in and must've shown on her face. He widened his steps and exaggerated his arm movements as he swept her around the room until she laughed. When he dipped her, leaning her across his arm, she laughed harder.
Then horror of all horrors, she snorted.
He didn't seem to notice. He simply smacked a loud, quick kiss to her lips. “That was a start.” He undipped her. “What should we try next?"
"We could swing in the hammock.” She hadn't forgotten about that tempting hammock strung between the willows, with its rhythmic, sensuous sway.
"Great.” He flung open the French doors leading onto the verandah. The last shreds of daylight streamed inside, pinkish and orange.
"It's light out,” she shrieked as if he hadn't noticed.
"Want your sunglasses?"
"No, suppose someone sees us."
"Everyone has gone, Jilly. The party's over. For them anyhow. Ours is only beginning.” He tugged her along.
"What about Big Foot? He could be lurking and I'd bet he has big eyes.” She dragged her feet for all of a second, taking immediate comfort in Zack's size and strength to fend of any intruder. Thoughts of them together, naked and swinging, on the green-striped hammock overcame her fear of Yeti. Before she knew it she was skipping across the lawn, buck naked.
Once cocooned in the hammock beneath the shadowy branches of the trees with Zack's hard body next to hers, grazing at the arms, hips, and thighs, playful feelings were replaced by familiar flashes of want. With the enticing sway egging her on, she cuddled closer to Zack, brushed her breast against his arm.
He reached for her hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed her fingertips. First one hand, then the other. The gesture tender, the sensation sizzling. “You touch me in ways I can't begin to describe,” he said.
If he'd let go of her hands, he wouldn't have to describe anything. She'd show him. She settled for telling him. “I'd like to touch you in more ways and places.” Her voice sounded soft and seductive in the airless twilight.
"Very poetic, Jilly.” He gazed into her eyes. “Now it's my turn again."
If he weren't so entranced with her eyes, she'd roll them heavenward. She hadn't been composing. She'd been trying to stir him into rocking the hammock and her world.
"Please open your secret places to me,” he said after a pause.
That's what she'd like to do, show him a dark but reachable place. She struggled for a line to match his. My place or yours came to mind, but that didn't work. Sensitivity might be key here.
"There are places you alone have reached,” she whispered. Two erogenous zones came to mind.
"See, we're making progress.” He smiled, pleased. “It's not Haiku, but it will do."
She matched his rhyme. “You're a poet, and now we both know it."
They'd danced and composed poems. Surely the playful part of the night was out of the way and the heavy breathing part was about to begin. She crossed her toes. He still held her fingers.
The hammock lulled her while the leaves of the willows rustled, a bird sang in the distance, and the sun set. She dozed until Zack's voice rumbled near her ear.
"Wake up, Boo. You're going to get cramped.” Once he roused her, he lifted her out of the hammock and carried her up the stairs.
His carrying her off to bed two steps at a time reminded her of a scene from Gone With The Wind. Minus the long, flowing dress, and the more opulent plantation, and Rhett Butler, of course. But Zack more than made up for the slight. He was real-life larger than any movie hero.
When he plopped her onto the middle of the mattress, she sat up. “I'm wide awake now."
"Good,” he said. “I was lonely."
In spite of her aunts and her busy-ness, loneliness was something she understood. But when he held her in his strong arms, their hearts seeming to beat as one, while he was buried deep inside of her, skin to skin, bone on bone, breath to breath, she didn't ache with want or feel abandoned and alone.
"All that playing must have worn me out,” she said to fill in the silence and blot out the tender thoughts.
"Ready to try something easier?"
She nodded. It was about time. Making love with Zack was almost too easy. She melted at his slightest touch. His kisses wilted her bones.
"Ready.” She knelt on the bed. The candlewick muslin bedspread bunched beneath her knees.
Zack didn't join her. He roamed the bedroom, striking a match to the tapered candles in the brass holders on the fireplace mantle, flicking buttons on a CD of soft music, and turning off the lights.
In the soft glow of the candlelight, he settled cross-legged in the middle of the bed facing her. He looked to be in one of those meditative poses she'd seen him in at his hotel room. With his hands resting on his knees, his palms up, he breathed in deeply.
Jilly relaxed and sat cross-legged, too. From the looks of Zack, this might take awhile.
"This is a practice in intimacy.” He stared into her eyes.
Oh no. He was back to that again.
"The eyes are the windows to the soul.” His focus intensified. “Look into mine. Really look, Jilly."
She studied his eyes. Never having searched for a soul before, she wasn't sure she'd recognize one if she saw one. What she noticed were warm, gray flecks so she concentrated on those. Candlelight flickered in the flecks, the flames dancing almost in tune to the music. That entertained her for a while.
She listened to the soft strains of the CD, wanting to hum or sway to the rhythm but figured that might interfere with Zack's hunt for intimacy.
She hadn't thought to ask if speaking was allowed during the search. That's why his voice startled her, even though his tone was low and whispery. “Try to become aware of your breathing and of mine. See if you can synchronize the two."
She wasn't sure if he expected an answer so she just breathed, deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth, imitating his technique. She tried to pace her breaths to his and keep eye contact at the same time. This intimate exercising was tricky.
Playing had been more fun than his internal quest. At least they'd touched while they played. Nothing was going on here. She hoped she didn't fall asleep again. Daydreaming was probably okay though. He wouldn't know if she daydreamed so she let her mind drift to cars and dealerships.
Uh-oh. Somehow he must've figured it out. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Now if that wasn't a daydream-buster she didn't know what was.
Their eyes filled one another's focus without a peripheral in sight. He inhaled and filled his chest. She followed his lead, taking in as much air as she could. She had a much smaller chest than his, which made synchronized breathing a challenge.
"Contract your genital muscle when you feel as if your lungs are full,” he instructed.
All of a sudden things took an interesting twist. There might be hope for this innermost journey yet. She wondered if she was supposed to tell him when she was contracted or make him guess. She probably couldn't focus, synchronize, contract, and talk all at the same time so she chose not to tell him.
His mouth hovered near hers. A gentle rush of air parted her lips as he released his breath into her. Not quite a kiss, but a step in the right direction.
She contracted.
"You try it now,” he coached.
This might be as close to kissing as she was going to get anytime soon. With a gentle puff, she breathed against his lips.
Palms still facing up, he moved his hands from his knees to hers. She did the same, the masculine hairs on his thighs tickling the backs of her hands.
"There is a variation,” he said.
"Let's try it.” Jilly jumped at any chance to liven things up.
"It's called Riding the Wave of Bliss.” His voice
sounded sensual as he reached onto the night table for a condom.
"Bliss.” Jilly mouthed the word, her voice failing her. She was all for any ride that included bliss and a condom.
"Begin by getting closer. Straddle my lap.” He continued to sit cross-legged while his strong hands held her by the hips and lifted her onto his thighs. After protecting himself, he inserted himself into her and hugged her to him tighter. She locked her legs around his waist and embraced his neck and shoulders, holding on fast.
"This is comfy,” she said. And sexy, she didn't say.
"Try to complete the circle by touching the soles of your feet together,” he instructed her. Then he joined his mouth to hers in a real kiss, with no puffs.
Joined together, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, genital to genital, Jilly felt deeply connected to the man, too deeply connected. The position was turning out to be more sensuous than sensational, more intrusive than blissful. Her instincts told her to free herself and fast before she discovered the intimacy he craved.
The fastest way to separate from him was to bring things to a climax. The fastest way to climax was to move. She tried rocking, bouncing, grinding.
Stimulating for her, but no response from him.
He pulled his head back and his mouth away from hers. “Our chakras, those energy wheels we've talked about before, are perfectly aligned with you slightly elevated like this. The flow of energy between us could be spiritually and mentally expanding."
"I'm all for mind-blowing.” She tried rocking again. But he didn't cooperate. He stilled her hips with his broad hands.
"Tantric sex involves two forms of energy, the energy of intimacy and the energy of sexual passion."
"I like passion.” She tried a small bounce, but his strong hands kept her bogged down.
"Intimacy is fine, too, Jilly.” He spoke both with his words and his eyes. His eyes looked disappointed.
She should have suspected the weekend was going to take a turn for the worse when she got her first peek at the bedroom. A north-to-south facing bed pretty much spelled misfortune.
"I've gone along with every one of your intimate suggestions,” she said in her defense.
"Yes, but only to an extent. You've remained detached in every instance.” He shook his head ‘no’ when she opened her mouth to protest. “I want to be more to you than the man who satisfies your sexual needs."
"You're much more than that. We laugh, we enjoy each other's company, we spend our free time together. What more can you want?"
"Your trust."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty-Two
Smart move, Zack thought.
Wearing only his boxers with the printed jungle figures on them—the shorts, like his Mickey Mouse watch, were a reminder not to take himself too seriously, in this case a certain too stiff part of his anatomy too seriously—Zack sat cross-legged in the middle of a four-poster bed in the cheery, yellow bedroom down the hall from Jilly.
He wasn't feeling cheerful though. This wasn't how he'd meant for their private swampfest weekend to turn out.
But trust was important to any relationship so his stand was necessary. No more sex without trust. One of the purple elephants on his shorts protested by wedging his butt. He shifted his position.
His raging libido demanded direction. The bedroom Jilly occupied two doors down was the one it wanted to take, but no way was he giving in to her this time.
He inhaled a deep breath and let out a loud, “Oooohm."
Two more and his mind would be on a higher plane. Right?
Wrong. Even meditation wasn't going to erase memories of a willing, loving, supple Jilly from his mind. He needed brain freeze.
Barefooted, he scooted down the winding staircase of the plantation house and into the kitchen in search of ice cream. When he flung the freezer door open, he found a carton of gourmet chunked chocolate. A quart eaten at a gallop should chill his brain just fine.
A yellow giraffe on his shorts wriggled its head to disagree when Zack plopped down on the kitchen chair with a tablespoon in hand.
On Monday at Betty's Bar and Grill, Zack was still eating ice cream and still wanting Jilly. He was supposed to stop by and fix Aunt Vinny's rocking chair, amongst other things. Repairs were one of the few things they'd discuss on the long, quiet ride back to the city. But he wasn't ready to face Jilly yet. Hoping one more dish of chocolate hunk, or whatever they called the flavor, might do the trick, he lifted his spoon to his mouth.
"Watching you eat is making my teeth hurt.” Bob's lip did an Elvis-like curl while his teeth gritted. “Let's go for a cold beer, eh?
"This isn't doing the trick anyway.” Zack shoved the dish aside and signaled to the waitress for their bill.
"The trick is to gain twenty pounds?” Bob chuckled.
"The trick is to get Jilly to trust me,” Zack confided in Bob, wondering why he bothered. But sometimes his cousin's advice on women proved useful. On second thought, maybe not when it came to serious stuff.
"You want more than trust, I suspect.” Bob squinted at him.
Zack supposed he did. He was falling for her and it would be damn nice if she reciprocated.
"You're not going to win any trust sitting here. You've got to get back into the game and onto the line of scrimmage.” Bob threw several dollars onto the table for a tip.
Zack nodded. “Tomorrow night. I'll tackle the old ladies first and then try for a goal and extra points."
"That's not what I meant by playing the field. Make her jealous.” Bob shook his head. “The game you're trying to play might need a team. I'm still willing to help out with the aunts. Especially the one with the French-maid apron fetish."
Zack shook his head. “Bob, remind me to introduce you to her aunts someday."
"In the meantime,” Bob said, “my advice to you is to get off the bench."
"You're here.” Ken flung the door to the apartment open and pulled Jilly into a downward hug. For a small guy he was strong. “Let's get right to the down and dirty details.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her over to the sofa, leaving Eric standing in the open door.
Eric slammed the door shut and ambled over to join them. “Don't you find it strange that Jilly's here at all?"
"No,” Ken said without glancing his way. Ken fussed at her hair. “Pulled back is nice."
"I do. Why isn't Jilly playing catch up?” Eric sat down across from them and heeled off his sneakers without undoing his laces. “Away for an entire weekend and here she is free and clear of aunts. No chauffeuring, no chores at the house.” He propped his feet up on the arm of the leather chair. “I find that very odd."
"I guess if you look at it that way.” Ken scowled at Eric's scruffy sneakers.
Jilly shrugged. “Maybe Ann wore them out. From what I hear the four of them traipsed through every quilting shop in the city browsing fabrics.” She paused. “Although...my aunts are usually pretty durable."
"They might be too tired to have you take them out, but I can't see them being too tired to ask you to run errands for them.” Eric waggled his foot.
"For now, let's just be glad Jilly's here.” Ken patted the knee of her chino slacks. “Let's talk."
Jilly figured there wasn't much sense in prolonging Ken's agony. She flipped off her sandals and dove in. “The weekend went well, actually fabulous. For a while."
"Uh-oh.” Squeezing her knee, Ken coaxed her on.
"Is this going to take long?” Eric said. “Maybe we should pop some popcorn first."
"How insensitive.” Ken ruffled, but trotted off into the kitchen anyway. “Mix me and Jilly a spritzer."
While Eric mixed the white wine, he said, “I hate to say I-told-you-so, but I told you to buy the latex dress."
Jilly groaned.
"You and the big guy didn't hit it off?"
"He wants a lot.” Jilly squirmed on her seat. “He wants trust."
"Trust,” Ken shouted from the kitchen. “Did you
say trust?"
"Yes,” Jilly called out to him.
"That sounds heavy,” Ken's voice squeaked. “Wait till I get back into the living room. Eric can't handle heavy for too long."
In no time, the smell of warm, buttered popcorn filtered through the apartment. They settled back amongst the bright plaid pillows, drinks and napkins in hand, bowls in lap.
"Start from the beginning,” Ken said. “Well, the beginning of the good stuff. Skip the scenery. I've been to the swamp."
"We danced to Zydeco music during the party, and danced slower, when we were alone. Later, we swayed in the hammock and made up poetry.” Jilly sipped at her spritzer not sure how to phrase the next part. “Then, in the bedroom, things sort of fell apart."
"Dancing, swinging, and poems. All great foreplay.” Ken grabbed a handful of popcorn. “I don't see how that failed."
"He went for the gusto,” Eric piped up. “He grabbed when he should've laid back. Right?"
"Where's your couth?” Ken tossed popcorn at him, and Eric managed to catch several kernels in his mouth. “Sometimes I wonder why we're even together."
"I'd tell you, but there's a lady present,” Eric teased.
"Never mind.” Ken waved him off.
"Actually,” Jilly said, “I sort of was the one who clutched at the gusto."
Eric laughed.
Ken threw more popcorn.
Jilly went on, eager now to put it into words. “Zack insisted on soul searching. When it didn't workout, he accused me of not trusting him."
"Is that when you clutched?” Eric chuckled between chews.
"Yes,” Jilly admitted with a blush, recalling how she'd rocked in Zack's naked lap. She crossed her legs to squelch the memory.
Eric hooted at her admission.
Ken shook a finger at him before turning to Jilly. “Soul searching's pretty serious business.” He studied her face. “Do you want serious?"
"No. Not exactly. Maybe, but not now.” Jilly rolled her eyes upward at her own indecision. “My life's too busy. Too complicated. Trust takes time."