“I’m keeping you either way,” he whispered.
I bit my lower lip and nodded my head slightly.
I spread my legs as wide as I was able. Jak nestled between my thighs and softly pressed himself against me. As the tip of his cock pressed against my wet pussy, I bit my lip harder and opened my eyes slightly. Softly, he began to kiss my chin. As I felt him begin to slide inside of me, I opened my mouth. As he continued to slide inside, I arched my back slightly and gasped. His eyes widened.
I batted my eyes and attempted to smile. I felt like weeping. Not bad tears, but a form of crying I was not aware even existed. My mind ached to scream, and my eyes yearned to water. I felt as if the tips of thousand knives were poking me gently. Slowly and softly, he worked himself in and out of my swollen wetness. I pressed my hands into his chest and gripped his skin with my fingertips. I felt connected to Jak, and not through sex, it was much more than that.
As he slowly worked himself in and out, his hands caressed every inch of my body. Without any concept of time or an idea of when we started or how long it had lasted, my feelings of euphoria began to mount. As he pressed his mouth to mine, our tongues fought for ownership of the space we shared. Pressure built within me.
I screamed into his mouth.
My everything exploded.
And in my mind, Jak and I became fused together.
I had never been one to believe in love, fairy tales, or happily ever after horseshit like every other girl in school. I believed it was possible for a man and a woman to meet, end up having sex, and stay together until they grew apart. Infrequently a couple might stay together until they died, but for me to try and believe they were faithful for that timeframe was impossible. When people told me they were in love, mentally I rolled my eyes and said give it time.
I truly believed and totally accepted I would live my life alone, painting abstract art no one would ever understand but me. I could never paint fast enough to eliminate all of the thoughts which collected in my head. My mind a jumbled mess of colors, shapes, and phrases, I raced from canvas to canvas to attempt to rid myself of the fog between my ears for even a moment; but the moment never came.
My mind was a perpetual whirlwind of everything and nothing. My only fleeting moments of sanity came infrequently from either riding my bike or slinging paint onto a canvas.
Until now.
We had laid silently for an immeasurable amount of time. I opened my eyes and moaned. His hands pressed into the comforter beside me, and his chest lifted from mine, he slowly smiled his dimple smile and began to speak.
“I…uhhm,” his voice faultered.
He paused, closed his eyes, and shook his head.
My mind, for the first time I had ever known, was empty short of one thought and one feeling. Jak opened his eyes. I extended my index finger and moved my hand between our faces.
I love this man. I know it.
“I think I love you,” I blurted.
“I’m one step ahead of ya, Karter,” he breathed as he pushed my hand to the side and kissed me.
“How so?” I asked as he softly released my lips from his.
“I know I love you,” he sighed.
My eyes welled with tears.
Awwwe. Fuck.
I squirmed and attempted to sit up slightly. I swallowed heavily, “No matter what happens, no matter what dumb shit I do - and just know I’ll do something - please tell me we can work through it. Don’t ever just leave me, okay? Give me a chance to fix it.”
“Don’t cheat on me Karter. Ever. And we’ll be fine,” he smiled.
“It’ll never happen,” I promised.
“Never is a long time, Karter,” he said softly.
I pushed my hands against his chest and attempted to shove him away, “Seriously, Jak? I don’t have a choice, because as far as I’m concerned, there’s only one man on this earth, and that man is you.”
“Fair enough,” he laughed.
“You dork,” I responded.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Jak was gorgeous, handsome, sincere, tough and cute. What more would any woman want?
As we relaxed on the top of the comforter naked, the air conditioning system cycled on. We both turned and looked at each other. The cold air blowing against my naked body felt freezing. I pulled the pillows from the head of the bed and yanked back the comforter. Simultaneously, we both crawled into the bed. Mentally and physically exhausted, I rolled onto my side and clutched my pillow as Jak pressed his naked body against mine. As I filled myself with thoughts of Jak and me making love, I fell asleep in his arms.
I woke up and looked around the dimly lit room. Jak lay beside me asleep. I desperately needed to pee. Quietly, I slipped my feet from under the comforter and onto the floor. I walked to the bathroom and peed. As I meandered to the kitchen and got a drink of water, I attempted to recall all of the events from the last twenty-four hours.
Still naked, I walked to the window and looked outside. The parking lot was empty. I looked at the screen of my computer. It was 3:20 a.m. I stood quietly and listened. I could hear Jak’s faint snoring from the bedroom. Quietly, I logged onto the computer and opened Google. I typed four words into the text box.
Eagle, anchor, pitchfork, and pistol.
I pressed enter.
The first site to pop up was Wikipedia. I didn’t need to go to any others. Jak’s exact tattoo was on their website.
Special Warfare?
Navy SEAL?
The tattoo was called a SEAL Trident.
Jak wasn’t a badass.
Jak was the baddest of all bad asses.
Holy shit.
For over an hour I read everything I could about Navy SEALS. It explained a lot. Jak would never fuck me over. Jak was in it for the long haul. Jak would protect me from harm. I went to a military records website and typed in Jak’s name and branch of service.
Jak Anderson Kennedy. U.S.N., retired.
D.O.B. 8 Jan 1976.
Jak was thirty-eight years old. I could care less how old he was. As long as he didn’t find out my age right away, we should be just fine. Eventually I knew I’d have to tell him, but for now? If he didn’t ask me, I would keep it my little secret. The thought of losing Jak over a little difference in age seemed quite stupid the more I thought of it. I cleared my history from the internet, logged off the computer and walked back to the bedroom.
Quietly, I crawled into bed with a man I obviously knew very little about.
But loved with all my heart.
JAK. She closed one eye as she blew a cloud of smoke from her lungs. In what had become a more health conscious world with far less people smoking, my mother continued to chain smoke cigarettes in her home as if she had no knowledge of them being detrimental to her health. As the last of the smoke cleared her lips, she looked down at her hand as if confused, “What’s her name again?”
“Karter, mom. Her name is Karter, spelled with a ‘K’,” I said as I raised my coffee cup to my lips.
“I thought you said Martha. It’s a good thing I asked, Jak,” she said as she pressed her cigarette into the overstuffed ashtray.
I chuckled and shook my head lightly, “Shhh. She’s going to hear you.”
She widened her eyes and stared across the table, “It sounded like you said Martha. I can’t help it you mumble. I hear just fine.”
“Mom, you need a hearing aid. I’ll pay for it. And you’re going to burn the house down if you keep smoking in here. No one smokes anymore. We should get you an e-cigarette, they’re healthy,” I smiled.
She scrunched her brow and tapped the cigarette case lying on the table beside her coffee cup, “I like real cigarettes. I don’t want to smoke battery powered smoke sticks, Jak.”
She picked up her coffee cup and raised it half the distance to her mouth, “She’s beautiful, Jak. How tall is she? And she has more tattoos than you do,” she sighed.
She lowered her coffee cup and leaned into the edge of the table. Her eyes s
hifted side-to-side and she attempted her best to whisper, “She has them on her hands, Jak.”
“Mom, stop. I know she does. On one hand, and I like them. She’s an artist, a painter. She’s good for me, she really is.”
“I know she is Jak. I can see it, I’m your mother, remember. I raised you. I know what’s good for you. I like her. She’s pretty and I like her hair,” she said as she leaned into the back of her chair.
My mother was a saint. She was the type of person to potentially question a person’s preferences to herself, but not outwardly. She was never critical of even the worst people. In her eyes, God created everyone equal, and they remained so regardless of the choices they made in life. Even the worst criminals weren’t necessarily bad people in my mother’s eyes, they only made poor decisions.
I didn’t offer Karter’s age, and my mother didn’t ask. It wouldn’t matter to her one way or another, but I felt no real need to mention it; at least not at this point in time. I wasn’t certain if Karter realized she revealed her age when we were in the Mediterranean restaurant, but I certainly noticed whether she knew it or not. To me, it didn’t matter. Karter provided me with an inner comfort unlike anything I had ever imagined was even possible. We are incapable of forcing ourselves to fall in love with someone we are not attracted to, and certainly less able of preventing a love which is predestined to be.
“Mom? Do you believe in destiny?” I asked.
She shook her head and pulled a cigarette from her case. As she lit it, she closed one eye and shook her head from side to side, “God has a plan for each and every one of us, Jak. Look at your father.”
She paused and blew the smoke at her feet. As she looked up, she shook her head again and snuffed the fresh cigarette into the ashtray, “It was destiny. God’s will. Destiny is God’s will. Are you asking me about the girl?”
I nodded my head once and turned to face the hallway as I heard the bathroom door open. As Karter walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, I felt somewhat foolish for asking a question I already knew the answer to. My mother truly believed everything happened in God’s world for a reason.
Everything.
She stood from her seat and picked up her coffee cup, “If she makes you feel the way you say she does, it can’t be anything but destiny, Jak. God broke her motorcycle for a reason.”
“Are you okay, honey?” my mother asked as Karter stepped into the kitchen.
“Yes ma’am. My stomach is a little queasy, that’s all,” Karter smiled.
“Stand up and pull her chair out, Jak. You weren’t born in a barn,” my mother sighed over her shoulder.
I turned toward Karter and rolled my eyes as I stood. As I pulled her chair from the table she sat and smiled. Simply seeing her smile provided me with a level of satisfaction I hoped I would one day experience, but had no expectation of it ever coming to be. In being honest with myself and realizing this peace of mind hinged on Karter’s presence, I came to truly understand I was incapable of living a fulfilling life without her. We had known each other all of three weeks. Be that it as it may, it did not change how having Karter share her life with me caused me to feel. As Karter reached for her cup of coffee, I admired her freshly painted fingernails.
“Honey, hand Jak your cold coffee. Jak, bring me that cup and I’ll get her a new one. Cold coffee will upset her stomach,” my mother said without looking up, her face obstructed by the refrigerator door.
Karter turned to me and smiled as she slid the coffee cup in front of me. I knew better than to argue with my mother. I stood and carried the coffee cup to the sink. After dumping the out the luke-warm coffee, I poured a fresh cup and turned toward the table.
“Slow down, Jak. Take her this, it’ll make her stomach feel better,” my mother whispered as she handed me a small plate of sliced cheese.
My mother found all of life’s questions answered by a slice of cheese. When she was upset, she ate cheese. When she wanted a snack, she ate cheese. When she was happy, she ate cheese. She covered her left overs with cheese, and then believed she was eating different food altogether. As a child, many of my stomach aches were resolved - according to my mother - by the cheese she force fed me. My mother was not a selfish woman – in fact she was quite the opposite. But to my mother, her cheese was sacred. Seeing her offer it to Karter as a form of remedy to her upset stomach allowed me to understand my mother had truly accepted Karter as being a permanent part of my life; and hers.
“Honey, nibble on that cheese, it’ll make you feel better,” my mother said as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.
“Karter, did you grow up around here?” my mother asked.
Before I could attempt to change the subject, Karter responded. I had purposely not asked Karter of her upbringing nor did she offer. As a result, she never asked specifically of my childhood or where I went to school. The majority of what we had not discussed was a result of me not necessarily being completely satisfied with our age variance being a non-issue. It made no difference to me, but I feared the seventeen years which separated us may make a difference to her. If asked, I would be truthful. If not, I had no intention of simply offering my age. Her open admission of her age, by mistake or not, made me fractionally less comfortable allowing her find out mine. Without a doubt, in time, there would be no secrets between us.
“I grew up in Hartford.” Karter smiled over her shoulder.
“Connecticut?” my mother smiled as she sat down.
“Yes ma’am, Connecticut.”
“Brothers? Sisters?” my mother asked as she sipped her coffee.
“No ma’am. I’m an only child. And both my parents are deceased,” Karter responded flatly.
My heart immediately sank for Karter. Instinctively, I wanted to know more. I knew not to ask. Some things are best left unasked and unanswered. Commander Warrenson’s words came to mind as I sat and waited for my mother to respond.
Never turn over a rock if you aren’t prepared to discuss what may lie beneath it.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Wichita is a fine city. For as big as it is, it’s also as small as you’ll let it be. You can come see me anytime; you don’t need to bring Jak with you, honey. Give her my phone number Jak,” my mother sighed.
She turned toward Karter and inventoried her from head to toe, “How tall are you, honey?”
Her eyes focused on me, Karter narrowed her gaze and turned toward my mother, “Excuse me?”
“How tall are you, honey? You seem tall for a girl.”
“Mom, everyone is tall to you. You’re five feet nothing,” I laughed.
My mother lowered her coffee cup and scowled my direction. Karter alternated glances between my mother and I, and eventually became fixed on my mother.
“Five-six.”
“You’re six foot if you’re an inch,” my mother argued.
My mother pointed to what she called the junk drawer, “Get the tape measure out of the drawer. Let’s measure her, Jak.”
“Mom…”
“It’s fine, Jak,” Karter said as she stood from her chair.
As if it was a common occurrence, Karter stood and walked to the doorway which led to the living room. As she backed up to the wooden trim, she straightened her posture and stood arrow straight, smiling. I shook my head in disbelief and opened the drawer behind me. I removed the tape measure and extended the end to the floor. As I raised my arm over Karter’s head, tape measure in hand, my mother stood. I watched as she opened a drawer behind her and eventually walked our direction.
“Here. Hold her hair flat with this butter knife, so you get it right, Jak,” she said as she shook a butter knife in front of me.
I looked down at the knife, and up into my mother’s eyes. I tossed my head toward the table and furrowed my brow. I turned toward Karter, and stared at the rule behind her head. As I studied the inch declaration on the face of the rule, my mother reached around me and pushed down on Karter’s hair with the blade of the butter knife
. Karter rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Well, I don’t have my glasses, what does it say?” My mother asked.
“Five foot six, on the money,” I responded.
Karter thrust her hands into the air as if she had won the lottery, “Told ya.”
“You’re six foot if you’re an inch, honey. There’s something wrong with that damned thing. Always has been,” my mother hissed as she lowered the butter knife and turned to the kitchen.
As I retracted the steel tape measure into the case, Karter stood with her back against the wooden door trim. She looked into my eyes and smiled. Her eyes were a translucent green, and a complete compliment to her skin and hair color. As I continued to admire her, I became lost momentarily - simply standing in front of her and staring. She leaned into me and after a soft hesitation of uncertainty, kissed me softly on the lips.
Karter’s carefree attitude, fearless nature, and expressed love for me allowed me to accept life as being without fault. With her in my life, I had no room for anything else to creep in. In her absence, without a doubt, my life would be nothing but turmoil. Karter filled me so full of what was good, that the bad I had spent two decades witnessing never had an opportunity to come to the surface. Karter was not only filling my heart with love, she was undoubtedly saving me from myself.
“See,” my mother said.
I turned her direction as she paused.
“She couldn’t kiss you like that if she wasn’t six feet tall, Jak.”
At that moment I realized to my mother, not unlike me, Karter was as big as life itself. I turned my head and smiled over my left shoulder, “You’re right, mom. There’s something wrong with that thing.”
I turned to face Karter and puckered my lips. As I slowly moved my mouth to hers, I winked my left eye, “Always has been.”
JAK. “Well, if a man looks in the scripture, there’s no reference to it. They took the time to make a statement about all other things a man can imagine. Stand to reason Jak, if there was somethin’ wrong with it in the Lord’s eyes, he’d a made sure and got it writ down in there somewhere. As a matter of fact,” Oscar paused and rubbed his goatee.
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