by Calinda B
I looked over at Cam. “Did you eat?”
“Yea, I snacked a bit…how about you?”
“I stopped for a sandwich on the way home.”
He gave me an intense look. “Come here, babe. I missed you.”
I looked at him quizzically and politely sauntered over to him. Hadn’t he just seen me this morning? He nuzzled my neck and slid his lips up for a kiss. “Mmm, you taste like beer.”
Pushing him back, I answered, “Yeah, I had a beer with Michael after my meeting with Jill.”
“Oh, I forgot about that meeting. How did it go?”
“Not the best. I have to work with this greasy guy name Mr. Dallas. He and Jill want me to dress up like a slut to sell their auction items.”
“Like a slut? What makes you say that?”
“That is what they said. Mr. Dallas told me, ‘Dress in something racy and we’ll sell lots of auction items.’ Jill agreed.”
“Wear whatever you want, babe. Don’t let them push you around.”
“I won’t.” I glanced over at Mac and Jack, staring at me. “Did you feed the boys?”
Mac saw me looking at him and sauntered over. Did not.
Jack looked up from his grooming. Empty bowls.
“Hold on a minute, and let me feed them.” I slipped from Cam’s arms and strode over to the cupboard where the cat food was kept.
“Cam…” I said in a tentative voice. “Do you think sex is fun?”
He paused for a second before answering. “I guess I never thought about it, but sure. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, Michael was telling me how much fun he has with sex.”
“Michael does not have a serious or committed bone in his body. When it’s a one night stand on his and his terms alone, how can it be anything BUT fun? Of course he said that.”
“It sounded good to me. I want it to be fun. Are you saying it’s not fun having sex with me?”
Now Cam tensed a little. “No, I am not saying that at all. I love making love with you.”
I considered that. “Yeah, me, too... I just wish I didn’t have such a hard time letting go. I get so nervous sometimes. I…I just check out and tense up.”
“That has never bothered me,” Cam said.
I looked at his face, searching for a sign that he was telling the truth. “Well, okay. I believe you. But are you ever attracted to anyone else?” I asked, thinking about the dark haired guy.
Uh oh…Mac thought.
Here we go, thought Jack. It’s this topic again.
Cam narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking me this? We’ve had this talk before.”
“I just wondered.”
“Well, don’t wonder. The same is true as always. I notice women, I look at them, but at the end of the day I only want to come home and be with YOU.”
“Uh huh.”
“What do you mean ‘Uh huh’?” Now Cam was getting visibly upset. “Are you attracted to Michael now?”
“God, no, not Michael…I’m attracted to YOU.” I smiled as sweetly at him as I could, pushing a persistent thought of the dark haired guy under my inner rug. I hoped Cam sensed that the hotness I was feeling was for him – not the dark haired guy.
“Then come here and show me,” Cam said, eyes still tightened.
When I did as he requested, I felt him relax a little. I slipped my hands under his flannel shirt and caressed his back.
“That’s better,” he murmured, offering a reciprocal embrace and calming even more. “Let’s take this into another room, shall we?”
I politely followed him up the stairs.
Chapter 8
That night I had another weird dream. This time I was watching a woman stretched out on a wooden pyre. She looked extremely sad. Tears were falling down her cheeks, creating huge puddles on each side of her face. The puddles leaked down the sides of the pyre in long, uneven streaks. To the left of her were all these hovering, dark, ghostly figures. They were gazing at the left side of her chest. “There’s still a lot of work to be done,” they said in low sinister voices. “Still some heart left in this one. We’ll have to extract it soon.”
I felt a curious detachment watching them. I floated overhead to get a better view. When I saw the woman’s face, I woke up with a start in the dream, lucidly conscious. That woman was ME. I tried to wake up for real, but could not. I willed myself to wake up. “Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake UP! Come on, come on, come ON!” I felt panicked and freaked out. I could not, or would not, wake up. “WAKE UP, Cheerio, WAKE UP!” I wailed, as the sight of me surrounded by those ghastly characters continued under my spectral gaze.
Then I felt myself rise in a sudden burst of swiftness like I was on a super-fast elevator. In the next scene, I was sitting in a desert somewhere, stars twinkling in the indigo night, a slice of new moon in the sky. The dark haired guy was sitting across from me, legs folded in a cross legged position.
“Hi, sexy girl…”
I stared at him, mouth open and aghast. His golden eyes were utterly hypnotic, reminding me of a show I had seen about solar flares. As he looked at me, I pictured those bursts of energy exploding off the surface of the sun, all magnetic energy and sudden gusts of mega-heat.
“My, my, that’s not a proper greeting. Here, try this.” He leaned forward and moved his lips inches from mine. I felt a curious surge of energy as his lips got closer. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he stopped when his lips were a mere half-inch away from mine. “Don’t move,” he said in a sultry voice.
I sat there, breathing slowly and quietly, as this pulsing sensation poured down me. On the in breath, I could feel warm, soft, honey-like, liquid-like energy coursing through my windpipe, passing my heart, and filling my pelvis. On the out breath I felt a rush of pleasure, rolling like a wave, from between my legs into his mouth. In breath, out breath, in breath, out breath…we inhaled and exhaled like that for a long, dream-like time.
I really, really want to kiss you, I thought in his direction.
I really, really will not, he thought in return. No more thinking, just breathe. We breathed.
My thoughts arose again, this time with insistence. I really, really, REALLY want to kiss you.
And I really, really, REALLY will not. If you won’t stop thinking, this will end.
I tried to just breathe, but my wanting was so acute I ached with need. Unable to stand this any longer, I started to move my lips towards him. With a burst, the dream disappeared. I woke up, completely aroused, next to Cam. I shot out of bed with a start.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Cam asked drowsily.
“Nothing…it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” My breath was coming hard and fast, like I’d been running. I slipped to the other side of the bed and kissed Cam’s cheek. “Go back to sleep. It’s nothing…odd dreams.” I stood there, naked and shivering, until I heard him go back to sleep. Then I grabbed my robe and headed downstairs.
Sitting in the dining room, in the dark, I listened to the night sounds coming through the open window. There was the hoot of an owl…the yowl of a cat. I hoped the cat was not yowling because of the owl then thought better. The owl wouldn’t exactly announce his presence, would he? This thought made me smile. “Hey, cat – over here,” I pictured the owl saying with a hoot. Wouldn’t happen...it was more like “Hey, cat – watch your back. I’ve got my eyes trained on YOU.” I heard the bushes rustle softly and wondered if a deer or raccoon was moving about. As I concentrated on these sounds, my breathing started to slow. I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, and then pressed them into my temples. I still felt the stirrings of arousal from my dream-meeting with the dark haired guy. Shit, shit, shit, I thought. I was not prone to cursing, but they just seemed like the right words at this moment.
To distract myself, I padded my bare feet over to the junk drawer to find the bottle opener. Maybe I would have another beer. I was not much of a drinker, but this moment called for it. Moving my hand around inside the drawer, I came across
Mother Clarice’s latest news packet. That would distract me. It might even upset me – even better.
I pulled the large envelope out of the drawer and ripped it open. Emptying the contents onto the dining room table, I turned on a soft lamp. An assortment of paper clippings and pictures were spread inside. There were notes in the margins, paragraphs circled with red pen, and Post-it notes if the message couldn’t fit in the margins. The notes read: ‘Chérie – here is an article on aerobics for children…thought you might like it.’ And, ‘Chérie, read about banking problems in the Midwest before you think about investing.’ Like I had any money to invest. Here was a good one: ‘Chérie – here is tax advice about filing under married status.’ The word “married” had been underlined twice. She knew Cam and I were not even considering getting married.
I dropped the clippings and their respective notes into the trash can in the corner and saw some photographs flutter out. I picked them out of the trash. Mother Clarice had written on them in ink: ‘Here is your uncle George.’ And, ‘This was our last family reunion. Wasn’t that a blast?’
No, it sure was not, I thought. I picked up another photo – this one black and white – that read: ‘You, as a child, with your Uncle Anders, your cousin Samantha, and your aunt.’ I squinted at the picture. I had never seen it before or at least don’t remember seeing it. Uncle Anders? Aunt Something or Other? I didn’t recall that pair. Did they die? Were they on my mom’s side or my dad’s? I looked all of about seven or eight years old in the picture. There was a scowl on my face, my mouth was turned down. I stood between my supposed aunt and uncle, arms clenched around my tummy, legs stiff and crossed at the ankles. I wore little shorts with a flower on one leg and a collared, short-sleeved shirt with buttons down the front. My short bangs were uneven and poked out at funny angles. I didn’t remember anything about that picture. How odd. I sure looked miserable.
My uncle in the picture was looking down at me, beaming. My aunt’s shadowed face was looking at my uncle with an accusatory glare. This Samantha girl was looking down at the ground. “What a weird shot,” I mused, tossing the picture into the trash with the remainder of the envelope’s contents. Foraging in the refrigerator, I found a beer in the back. I took it out and twisted the top off, then chugged it down my throat in one long, mind-numbing swallow.
Chapter 9
The next day was Thursday, two days before that dreaded fundraiser. I decided to go out shopping with Zuri after she got off work and finished doing errands in Northern Seattle. I needed to pick up a pair of climbing shorts. Plus, I wanted to buy something to wear…MY choice…to the fundraiser. Zuri churned up the dirt driveway in her silver convertible BMW. She worked as an office manager, the Queen Bee, really, at a downtown financial firm so she made good money. She also inherited some money when her father had died. I always teased her about having a convertible in Seattle, as we had loads of rain. Even when it was not raining it could be what we called “soft” – meaning wet with mist. But on the few days when the weather was “convertible ready,” we loved riding around with the top down. Our hair would blow into a tangled fury in the wind, and we would revel in the stunning beauty of the lakes, the Puget Sound, the mountains, the trees – it was all a gorgeous kaleidoscope of color.
I ran out of the house in my favorite jeans and t-shirt, flip flops on my feet. The weather was unusually warm for Seattle, in the 80s, and felt great on my skin. I threw back my arms, turned my face towards the sky, and twirled in a circle. Zuri leaned over from the driver’s side and opened my door. Before climbing in, I noticed some papers caught on a dead branch in the driveway. Reaching down, I picked up the pictures from Mother Clarice’s envelope. There was that picture of those strange, unknown relatives. They must’ve fallen out of the trash when Cam emptied it this morning. I crammed them into my bag and tossed it in the back seat.
Zuri sped down the driveway, spun into the street, and we were on our way. We planned on stopping at the flagship REI for climbing pants, and then heading downtown to scope out some of the offbeat, boutique clothing stores.
As we rode along, Zuri filled me in on her latest conquest, Peter. “What happened to Alec?” I inquired.
“Came and went,” Z replied. “We had some fun for a bit, and then grew tired of each other.” There was that fun word again.
“You mean you had fun being together or fun in bed?”
“Both. I like to have fun, you know that. When the fun’s gone, so is the boy-toy.”
That seemed a bit shallow to me, but I still liked the idea of fun. Today had not been fun. It had been an exercise in suppressing my thoughts about the dreams, as well as attempts to quell my headache from the slammed down beer. That had put me to sleep alright, but I awoke with a massive headache and an upset stomach.
“So, what’s Peter like?”
She considered for a moment. “Well, he’s tall, dark, and handsome.”
I sat up with a start. “How dark? How handsome?”
She laughed. “Relax, he’s not your dark haired fling from the club. What’s the matter? Are you and Cam okay?”
“No,” I replied, a little too quickly. “That man wasn’t a fling. I told you he was just some guy who bumped into me by mistake. I just…well, I just wondered what your new boyfriend was like, that’s all.”
“O-o-o-o-o-KAY,” she said, emphasizing the “K” and drawing out the “O.” “If you say so…”
“So, tell me.”
“I just did – he’s tall, dark hair, rides a motorcycle…he’s great in bed…has loads of money. What more could I ask for?”
“Good conversation, a loving heart?” I said.
“Oh, hearts are for sissies. They get broken too easily. And when would we find the time to have a conversation? We’re either out on his bike or in bed. Better to just keep it light and easy.”
“If YOU say so,” I said.
“I do.”
At REI, I tried on a few pairs of loose fitting, Prana climbing pants, popping out of the dressing room with each pair to show Z.
“Oh, THOSE are perfect,” she stated on my last attempt. “You are such a tiny little thing; those really show off your athletic legs.”
“What are you talking, ‘tiny’? I’m nearly 5’ 4.”
“Small BONED, Chér, small BONED.”
Thinking of bones made me shiver. I thought of my dream from a few weeks back. Then, I thought of last night’s freaky dreams. I grabbed my thigh and pinched myself to bring me back to the moment.
“What are you doing?” Z arched an eyebrow.
“I had an itch.”
Zuri gave me a bemused glance. “Well! That’s one way to take care of an itch. Another way is to scratch it. You sure can be strange sometimes.”
Tell me about it, I thought, enigmatically.
We left REI and headed downtown. At one of our favorite clothing stores, a trendy store over in Pioneer Square, we spotted Riva behind the counter. Riva was the owner of Fierce Looks, a combination consignment store of interesting attire hand-picked by Riva, and new stuff, also hand-picked by the proprietor. Riva always looked fantastically outrageous. A slinky 5’ 9”with short, shimmery brown hair and smoky blue-grey eyes, she’d wear fishnet stockings, Prada high-heels, and a miniskirt just skimming her behind on one day, a slouch-neck sweater and long pencil skirt paired with Durango Flirt cowboy boots the next. She had a body that looked good in anything, and a face that morphed into any look she desired. Sensual, sultry, cute, fresh, sophisticated– Riva was a beautiful chameleon.
She smiled when we wandered in and waved us over to the counter. “Ladies, I just got these in,” she gushed in her smoky voice, pulling a couple of boxes from behind the cash register. She reached into one of the boxes and brought out a bright red Vivienne Westwood Priestess dress with an asymmetrical neckline and ruched detailing.
“Nice!” I said. “It’s just what I like.”
“I thought so.” She handed the dress to me. “Go try this on.”
To Z, she offered a mid-thigh length Lumiani sleeveless dress, sure to emphasize Zuri’s voluptuousness.
We both flounced out of the dressing rooms at the same time. “God, Z, you look fantastic!”
“And you, you’re smokin’ hot!”
Z was just being polite, no doubt, I thought. I didn’t believe I ever looked smokin’ anything. After chatting with Riva a bit, we paid for our new clothes and made our way to Pike Place Market to grab a bite to eat. As we sat nibbling on turkey burgers, I told Z about my dread of the upcoming auction and working with Mr. Dallas.
Z commiserated. “Geez, he sounds like a creep. That sounds awful. Will Cam be there?”
“No, in order to get his schedule rearranged for our rock climbing trip, he had to agree to work that night.”
“That’s too bad. Tell you what: I’ve got a late date Saturday night, as in booty call late. Why don’t I stop by the community center earlier in the evening so I can make sure Mr. Dallas behaves himself?”
“Oh, would you? I’d feel so much better knowing that you were out there somewhere. That would be great.” I felt so relieved at the thought of having a friend somewhere in the audience I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“No problem, girlfriend, I’ve got your back. You know that.”
When the bill came, I reached in my purse to pull out my wallet. As I drew it out, the pictures I had shoved into the bag fell out onto the table.
“Who are THOSE people?” Z grabbed one of the images out of my hand. She studied the one with me and my so-called uncle and aunt. “That’s you, isn’t it? You were such a cute little girl. I wonder what you were unhappy about, though.”
“That’s the bizarre part – I don’t remember ever seeing that photo or those people. Mother told me they are relatives of mine, but I’ve never seen them before.”
“Never seen them? You probably just don’t remember.”