“You eat Lucky Charms?” he asked, surprised by my choice in breakfast fare.
“It was on sale. Do you like the luckies or the charms?” I paused and realized how dumb that sounded. “What the hell does that mean anyway?”
We both burst out laughing.
When we stopped, we sat still, staring into each other’s eyes. It felt only natural to lean over and kiss him. He tasted sweet and fresh, his lips warm and soft. I inhaled deeply, letting his scent stimulate my nostrils. He smelled good, not perfumed and artificial, but spicy and earthy, a faint masculine smell that I liked. I didn’t want to stop but I did, giving me a chance to look into his eyes again. I could see the desire reflected in them.
He came back for seconds, this time lingering on my lips. He ran his hand through my hair, brushing the dark strands away from my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck. We progressed, slowly letting our lips investigate the others. I slid my hand across his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the swell of muscle there. We kissed and touched lightly over our clothing until we both felt we wanted more.
I pushed his shirt up, and he pulled it over his head, revealing a beautifully sculpted torso. He was no longer the skinny kid Frank had described earlier. I noticed a long scar that ran upward from his hipbone to just under his ribs, leaving a ridged line over his perfect abs. I was too occupied to ask him about it.
He wasn’t hairy, but had a small scattering of curls across his pectorals and a thin fringe that ran from his belly button and disappeared into his jeans.
“Follow the happy trail,” I said as I traced the dark line with my finger until I came to his belt buckle. “Let’s see what’s underneath.” I looked up to meet his eyes and gave him a seductive smile. He held my gaze, amused. I undid the clasp of his belt and slowly unbuttoned his fly, expecting to see a pair of boxer shorts.
“No underwear?” I asked, surprised but not turned off. I was pleased by what I did find. He was perfectly proportioned.
“I travel light,” he said by way of explanation and laughed. He kissed me again, then pulled my tank top over my head and undid the clasp of my bra, letting it fall to reveal my breasts. They weren’t big, but they were firm and round. He looked at them with a sweet expression and cupped them in his hands. He had the kind of hands a woman wants to be touched by, clean and well kept, large and masculine without being beefy. He gave my breasts a gentle squeeze and tasted each nipple before kissing my lips again.
“There are condoms in the bedroom,” I said. I always kept condoms in the bedside drawer just in case. I wasn’t a slut, but I wasn’t a virginal nun either.
I got up, letting my shorts fall around my ankles, stepped out of them, and walked to my room wearing only my cotton bikini panties. I heard the thunk of his belt buckle as it hit the wooden floor, left in a heap of jeans next to my shorts. He followed me in and stopped long enough to admire my body as I stretched out on the cool sheets of the bed. I stripped my undies off and flung them at him, giggling. He caught them with a grin and climbed on the bed next to me.
Grabbing a bunch of condoms, I fanned them out like a hand of cards. “Pick a color, any color!”
He closed his eyes and randomly grabbed one. “This one.”
“Ooo, green. It’ll match your eyes,” I said as I ripped into the square package with my teeth, pulled out the green rubber, and slipped it over him.
We explored one another, traversed the curves of the other’s body, learned each other’s weak spots. It was slow and sweet, our rhythms paralleled. When we finished, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. At least he didn’t have to sleep in the car.
The next morning, I made us breakfast. I scrounged up something better than Lucky Charms. I cooked poached eggs on English muffins with salsa and cheese.
After Max left, I wandered downstairs, intending to go for a walk to think about things. I had slept with other guys before; it was always just for fun, something to break up the boredom. But this time was different. I had feelings for Max.
“Hey, Ellie, I need to talk to you a minute,” Frank called from his office.
Oh, shit, I thought. I’m going to get a lecture. I could tell by the tone of his voice.
“Hi, Frank.” I leaned against the doorjamb.
“Come on in and sit down.” He pointed to the chair in front of the desk. I parked myself in it and crossed my arms, waiting.
“I saw Max leave your place this morning.” He eyed me, watching my reaction. I nodded, not denying the obvious.
“You’re an adult and what you do is your business.” He paused and tapped his fingers together. “Max is a good kid. He’s like a son to me.” His eyes bored into mine, their cold blue light making me understand how serious he was.
“Look, Ellie, I love you, but the truth is, he’s not a toy for you to screw around with. If you hurt him, I’ll break your fucking face.” He meant it, too. That inner gangster had peeked out of its den to snap at me and keep me in place.
“I wouldn’t . . . I, um, I think . . .” I babbled. That wasn’t what I had expected him to say. I tried to think of something rational to reply, but Frank’s expression scared me enough to spill my honest guts. “I love him.”
I wasn’t sure until I voiced it. Now, I knew, and it felt good, although embarrassing, to say it out loud. My cheeks were hot with a fire engine blush.
Frank’s face split in a wide smile.
“Well, in that case, carry on.” He waved me away and went back to his paper work, leaving me perplexed.
That evening, I sat on the couch flipping through the TV stations. It was hotter than hell in my apartment. The fan was on full blast, blowing the baked air over me as I stretched out, flapping the hem of my little purple sundress to keep cool. My hair was piled on top of my head in a loose bun to keep it off of my neck but one dark loop had come undone and hung over my eye. I puffed my cheeks and blew out a gust of air to push it aside. It bounced right back in place.
There was nothing on, and I was bored when a knock at the door drummed from the corridor. I switched the TV off and padded across the wood floor in my bare feet to answer it, thinking it was probably Frank. I opened it to find Max standing in the hallway wearing a green tee shirt that matched his eyes, his backpack, which contained everything he owned, slung across his shoulder.
“Hi!” I said, caught off guard by his spontaneous visit, but pleased to see him. I pushed the stray lock of hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear.
“Hi. I’m sorry I just showed up like this. I don’t have your number. I don’t even know your last name.” He gave me an apologetic smile.
“That’s okay. It’s Fox.”
“Cameron,” he said, pointing at himself.
“What?” I was suddenly worried I had been calling him the wrong name all along.
“My last name. It’s Cameron,” he explained.
“Oh! Sorry, I’m a little slow. Come in. Have a seat.” I pointed to the couch, the only good place to sit.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
“No. Actually, I was bored. I’m glad you came over.” I smiled, a little embarrassed.
He had a brown grocery bag that he set on the kitchen table. The paper crinkled and the contents clinked.
“I brought some beer and snacks,” he said as he took out a six-pack of Magic Hat beer, a package of fresh chocolate chip cookies from the bakery, and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.
“Thanks! That was nice.” I found a bottle opener and popped open two of the bottles. I put the rest in the fridge, and we sat on the couch. As we sipped our beer, I rolled a joint, just like Max had done the night before. I held it up, impressed with my handiwork.
“You’re a good teacher,” I said.
“Thanks. You’re a good student. And that’s a skill worth passing along.”
We talked and smoked, loosening up to each other. He picked up my left foot and ran his finger along the bottom, making me giggle, my toes curling in.
He noticed the tattoo on the inside of it, just under the ankle. It was a tiny star.
“That’s an interesting tattoo,” he said, looking at it closer.
“I did it myself.”
“Really? How?”
“I read a book on the history of tattoos and had to try an experiment,” I explained. “I tapped it out with a porcupine quill and rubbed charcoal in it.”
“Didn’t that hurt?”
“Yeah, it hurt like hell. But that’s part of getting a tattoo. It’s like a rite of passage,” I said and shrugged. “Hell, the Iroquois did it on their faces. The foot doesn’t seem so bad.”
“I like it,” he said and kissed it.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I hadn’t noticed any the night before but I wasn’t looking for any either.
“No. Too permanent,” he answered and slid his hand up my thigh, under my dress. I leaned forward and kissed him.
Our bodies were hot in the steamy summer humidity. Seductively removing one article at a time, we stripped each other of clothing and took in the other’s nudity. It felt good to be free of the restrictions, especially in the heat. I liked having him look at me, seeing all of me unhidden. I liked looking at him, too.
We were slow and lazy like the summer air around us. I licked a trickle of sweat as it rolled down his neck. He put his cold beer bottle against my nipples, making them hard and erect, before taking them in his mouth and gently sucking, giving me a tingling sensation that went all the way down to my toes. We pleasured one another, unashamed of our acts.
When we finished, we sprawled on the couch, naked, letting the fan blow a cool breeze over our hot skin. I traced the scar on his abdomen.
“How did you get that?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. Scars can be sexy.
“In prison.” He eyed me as he said it, watching my reaction.
“You went to prison?” I was surprised. He didn’t have that hardened look that I expected in a convict. His face was too open and honest. He was too cute. Not that a person’s appearance had anything to do with it. I didn’t look like someone who could go to jail either, but there were plenty of things I did that would have left me in the big house had I been caught.
“Yeah. There are some things about me you might not want to know.” He laughed, but he was serious. I took the warning and didn’t press him for details on his less than perfect past. I respected his privacy and hoped he would respect mine.
His expression turned thoughtful, and his gaze shifted to hold my eyes. “Ellie, that doesn’t mean I won’t be honest with you. I may not tell you everything, but if you ask me a direct question, I will answer it truthfully.”
“Thank you,” I said. I appreciated his sincerity. I leaned over and placed my lips on the scar, kissing it lightly, then sat back and smiled.
“Are you in a lot of trouble?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been in worse.”
He had a knack for getting himself into hot water, but Frank was always there to bail him out. That time was no different. Whatever he’d done, whomever he’d pissed off, somehow eventually cleared up, probably due to Frank’s influence.
None of that bothered me. I had known him less than three days and already felt comfortable and familiar with him. The way he looked back at me, I knew he felt the same way. When it’s right, it’s right. Max spent the night again and never left. We’ve been inseparable since.
7.
I was curled up on the couch, engaged in one of my favorite pastimes, reading. I read everything, absolutely everything, from eighteenth century literature to trashy romance novels to complex scientific journals. At that moment, I was reading a compilation of short stories by Ernest Hemingway.
Max was on the floor, exercising. Every once in a while, I peeked over the top of my book and watched him as his muscles flexed in a ramrod straight push-up or his abs contracted as he curled in a perfect sit-up. He wasn’t big and bulging like a body-builder, just beautifully chiseled like a Greek statue. He took good care of his body out of what he said was professional obligation, and it showed.
I was enjoying my view and was about to ask if he’d like me to give him a cardio workout when a knock at the door interrupted my train of thought. Max got up to answer it, opening it to Frank.
“Hi, Frank.”
“Hi. You guys busy?”
“No, not really. What’s up?” He stood aside to let Frank in.
I got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen counter to set the coffee pot going. Frank always drank coffee.
“Hi, Frank!” I called out.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not staying long.” He pulled out one of the mismatched chairs at the kitchen table and settled himself into it. “I have a job for you guys.”
“Both of us?” I asked. Max and I had never done a job together at that point, but I liked the idea of working with him. He stiffened next to me, clearly not enjoying the thought as much I did.
“Do we have to fly somewhere?” he asked, swallowing hard as if he’d just been told he was to face a firing squad.
“Yes,” Frank answered matter-of-factly. “Ellie, you’ll land at Laurent’s field. All you have to do is get Max up there and wait for him to come back.” He turned to Max. “Someone will be there to pick you up. Rendezvous is at 10:30. They’ll have all the details.”
“Do I need anything? Any equipment?”
“No. I have a duffle bag downstairs with some stuff for you.”
Max nodded. He had a strange mix of excitement and apprehension on his face. I was sure the excitement was from the new job, the mystery of it, the thrill of pulling something off, and the apprehension was due to flying again. He hadn’t flown since I brought him across the border the first night we met. I tried to get him to go up several times to no avail. He protested that the ultralight was too small, the ride too bumpy, the seat uncomfortable. Standing at 6'2", a full foot taller than my petite frame, he was admittedly a bit big for the cramped space, but his well-toned physique could handle a little discomfort for an hour or so. The problem was, although he never would admit it, the ultralight scared him shitless.
Frank got up, said goodbye to me, and headed for the door. Max followed him out so that he could collect the duffle bag.
I looked at the clock. It was 6:00. It would take an hour to drive to the farmhouse where I kept my plane, a good twenty minutes to make a thorough pre-flight check, and an hour to get to Laurent’s field. That would give us enough time to eat, then leave a little early in case I found something I needed to repair before we took off.
We readied ourselves and left the apartment about an hour and a half later.
“Ready to go on a Beer Run?” Max asked as he came out of the bathroom.
“A beer run?”
“Yeah. That’s what I always call a job like this.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by “a job like this.” Did he have more than one type of job? Despite my confusion, I didn’t question it. I just laughed and said, “Alright. Let’s go on a Beer Run.”
We got in the car, and I drove out to the farmhouse. I cranked the radio, and we sang and joked the whole way. I could see he was trying hard not to think about the tasks ahead, and I did my best to keep the mood light.
When we got there, it was dark. I flipped on the switch to the overhead light and started my usual rounds on the plane, checking to make sure everything was set. Max sat on a bench in the corner, knowing he wasn’t a lot of help to me at this stage, and read the newspaper. When I was done, we hauled the plane out to the side field where the solar lights were shining a straight line down my homemade runway. I could pull Papy Volant around myself, but it was always easier with a second person.
We were ready to go. I got in the cockpit and set my GPS. Max was still standing outside, taking deep breaths.
“Don’t be such a baby! Get in!” I yelled.
He leaned down and looked at me through the open door. “If this were filled with spider
s, you wouldn’t be so eager to get in.”
“Yeah, well, spiders bite.” Spiders kind of freaked me out.
“And planes crash.” That was the closest he ever came to admitting his fear of flying.
“You survived the last flight. Get in. We have to get going.”
He reluctantly sat down, pushing the duffle bag under his feet, and strapped himself in. He tugged at the front of his hair as I taxied down the narrow strip of grassy runway. The plane lifted, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a funny little grunt of fear escaping him.
I carefully flew the plane between the rounded peaks of the Green Mountains, brought it to cruising level, and checked all of the gauges. Satisfied that everything was in working order, I settled back to appreciate the view. The flight was smooth, the air calm. The night was spread out before us in splendid black wonder, edged in purple where it touched distant city lights and sprinkled with stars across its dome. We were already a third of the way through the short, one-hour flight.
“Hey, look at that. Isn’t it cool?” I couldn’t help but remark on the amazing view.
“No, that’s okay. I don’t need to see it.” Max kept his eyes glued to the floor.
“Come on, take a peek. It looks like Christmas lights.” I reached over and took his hand.
Looking out of the window, he gasped as his eyes passed across the horizon. He squeezed my fingers and I squeezed back, letting him know I was there.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked, my attention again taken up by the sight as I admired the darkened nightscape. I could stare at it for hours.
I felt his grip on my hand relax. He was quiet for a moment then whispered, “Yeah, that’s beautiful.”
My eyes shifted back to him, wanting to see him enjoy the night flight. Instead of gazing at the stars, he was watching me. I shook my head and snorted a quiet laugh, turning my concentration once again to my job.
As we approached our mark, I brought the plane down, landing safely and smoothly in Laurent’s field. We were a bit early but the car was already waiting to take Max to his next destination.
Hashimoto Blues Page 4