by Karen Gordon
I laugh and relax and fall more in love with him--the wonderful laid-back man who can stand there naked and make jokes. I hop out of bed and dash into the bathroom for my toiletries bag and my own supply of condoms. I toss five fresh condoms on the bed and Danny raises one eyebrow at me. I’m not sure if he’s impressed that I’m prepared or worried that I carry a supply with me.
“What?”
He picks them up. “Five?”
I laugh. “I can get more if we need them.”
He opens one and slides it on as I watch. His openness with his body makes me less concerned about mine. I take off my bra and toss it across the room then my panties which I slingshot in his direction. I miss by a mile but I’m having so much fun.
He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and motions for me to join him. “Come ‘ere.”
I fight the momentary urge to go against any directions and climb onto the bed next to him. He uses my hips to have me straddle his lap, his cock so close to where I want it.
“We’ll do this your way, this time.” He pulls me in for a kiss and lets me push my hips into his, grinding against him. “But you will let me have my way with you eventually. We have two months to figure this out.”
With that he slides his hands down to my ass and lifts me onto him. I sink down then kneel up again, reveling in the sensation. “That’s it. You’ve got control. Make yourself feel good.” His permission is a gift, an acknowledgement that he understands me. It opens me up and releases my fears of failing him. As I drop back down I stop, overwhelmed. I lean in and kiss him, trying to let him feel how much he means to me. His moan of pleasure is music to my soul because I’m pleasing him. I’m in control and he’s not just tolerating it, he loves it.
I let go and just feel and our sex moves into an entirely new realm—a dance of give and take. I don’t rush, pushing for my orgasm. I know it will come. I can feel it building. I slowly ride him and when he bends his knees, I fall back onto them, reacting to the different sensations of the new angle. When I speed up, he uses my hips to help me. I’m so close when I feel him piston his hips. He comes with another combination of my name, random religious sayings and cuss words. And I feel it, like I never have before. Because I’m not lost in my own head, worried about my performance, I can feel him pulsing in me. Holy fuck, it’s a turn on. I’m so close. I reach down between us and use my clit to push me over the edge, almost screaming his name with each wave.
I fall back. A euphoric, spent pile of mush and I laugh at nothing. Because I can and I don’t do it often enough. Danny’s catching his breath and smiling. I don’t know what to say. What I feel is beyond words. Luckily he doesn’t seem to be looking for conversation either.
He pulls me forward, against his chest and slowly eases himself out of me as we stretch out on the bed.
When I finally get the energy to speak, all I can say is, “wow.”
He lazily rubs his hand along my arm. “Wow?”
He’s questioning this? Did he not just have mind-blowing sex with me? Or is he questioning whether he was that good?
It dawns on me then that, despite his substantial skills he hasn’t used them on a woman in a long time, let alone an appreciative woman. I know things were ugly in his marriage in the end. Could his crazy-bitch of an ex really have not appreciated sex like that? Or would they even have been having sex in the end?
I’d never gotten the full story, only bits and pieces that I overheard, but I do know that she left him for a guy with more money—a lot more money. She’s a member of the elite of Charlotte now, something Danny could never give her.
I lean up and kiss him on his chest. “Yeah,” I assure him, “wow.”
Chapter Eleven
We spend the morning at Carla’s house delaying our inevitable leaving and her finally being completely alone. She digs through drawers and papers, offering me stuff I might want or need. On Dad’s dresser top she finds pictures of me as a kid and a few of my dad and mom together. I put those in my purse.
“What about The Goat?” She asks when she comes across the keys to the car Danny and my dad had fixed up.
I answer her but look at Danny. “What about The Goat?” It’s more his than mine.
“It’s yours,” she hands me the keys. “I’ve got the Ford and I can’t drive that thing.”
Danny eyes are on the keys. I can see that he wants it. He did half the work on it and it’s his tie to my dad. I hold the keys out to him but he shakes his head. “It’s yours. He left it to you.”
“But…”
“I can’t take it with me anyway.”
I had forgotten about his job in Saudi or pushed it out of my mind on purpose.
Carla sees another opportunity to keep us with her for a little while longer. “Well, let’s go see if the darn thing even starts. It’s been months since he drove it.”
✈✈✈
I hand Danny the keys. It can be finicky when you started it and he would know how to finesse and coax it. I actually know how, but this isn’t the moment to let him know that Dom and I had “borrowed” the car a few times through the years.
The moment it turns over and roars to life, we are all still and silent. It’s like my dad is there. The loud sound, the oversized energy, the precision of the mechanics is all Big Mike’s signature in this world. In that moment, I want the car and I want Danny to have it too. We both need this piece of my dad.
We drive around a few blocks, letting the battery charge, all of us silently enjoying the feeling of my dad’s presence. When we get back to the house none of us wants to get out of the car.
As I sit there in the driveway I know exactly what I need to do. “I’m driving this home.”
“Today?” Carla questions.
“Yeah.” I shake my head, picturing the perfection of the idea. Then my perfect idea grows, fate giving me a nod that Danny and I should have more time together. “You coming with me?” I challenge Danny.
He doesn‘t answer right away but I know he can’t resist driving him and Dad’s baby back to Savannah. He looks around the interior assessing the odds of the car making it six hundred and fifty miles. “Yeah. I can’t let you drive this thing home alone. I’m not sure it’ll make it.”
And he’s back in meddlesome father mode. I smirk at him. “And what are you going to do if it doesn’t?”
He smirks back. “I’m the mechanic that built it. I’m sure I can think of something. What do you think you would do alone?”
I lift up my phone and pointed to the AAA app. “They have tools, you don’t.”
Carla laughs at us from the back seat. “I wish I could be there to see the two of you on this road trip.”
I smile back at her and point to my texting app. “I’ll send you updates.”
✈✈✈
After turning in the rental car and cancelling our flights we stop at a huge truck stop on the edge of the city for provisions. It’s near 7 p.m. and the sun is setting.
“Why don’t I drive to Mobile while you sleep then we can decide whether to take I-10 through Florida or go through Alabama,” As I talk I follow Danny though the store, both of us gathering snacks.
“One, you aren’t driving, I am, and two, we are not going through Florida.” He pours himself a large black coffee and I hand him two sugar packets. “Two?” He questions, as if I’d forgotten his preference.
“It’s a large.” I note, pointing at the 32 ounce coffee cup. He doesn’t reply but dumps both packets into his cup.
“My app is showing six construction zones on the Alabama route. It might be forty miles longer though Florida, but it will be much faster and easier to drive.”
He silently studies the map on my phone. “Fine, Florida, whatever.”
“And there is no reason for you to drive the entire way.”
“Vivey, you can’t handle that car. It’s fast; the steering has too much give…”
“And the brake pedal sticks.” I finish for him. “I’
ve driven it, many times.” I let him process that bombshell while I peruse the selection of granola bars.
“Big Mike let you drive that car?”
“Dom and I borrowed it a couple of times and I’m pretty sure my dad didn’t know about it.” I grab two protein bars to go with my iced tea.
“You stole the car.”
The way he says it pisses me off—so damn patronizing, like he’s dealing with a juvenile delinquent. My belief in myself as a competent adult plummets when he talks to me like this and I hate it. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who was my sweet, understanding lover last night. We’ve started something new but it’s not going to be easy to let go of what we’ve been to each other for so many years.
I don’t reply to his accusation because I want to tell him where to stick it and not in a sexy way. Instead I walk toward the register and ask if he wants an apple or banana from the fruit basket as we pass it.
✈✈✈
He refuses to sleep but he lets me drive the first leg of the trip to Mobile, saying he wants proof that I know how to drive it. I keep it just above the speed limit and obey all the traffic laws even though I’m itching to push it. Driving it brings back great memories of flying down long, low marshland roads with the windows down and the stereo turned up. I laugh to myself at the memory of Dom throwing herself at the cop who stopped us. At eighteen, she was more silly than sexy and in the end, I’m pretty sure the cop let us go because he was impressed with the car, not us.
When I let him take over on the far side of Mobile, he visibly relaxes, like he’d held his breath the entire time I drove. He eases back into the seat, lets his hand drape across the steering wheel and gear shift, and tunes into the powerful hum of the engine. My God he’s sexy like that—in his element. And then there’s the good old front bench seat, just calling me to unhook my seat belt and stretch across it to christen my new car with a little highway head. I decide that now might not be the time but only because we have hours of driving ahead of us. He might be more receptive to killing time that way later.
The sun has set and the early Fall night air is cool in the quiet, sparsely populated Florida panhandle. I don’t sleep because I want to talk to him. I want to find the kind, attentive man who I fell in love with. The one who existed before my dad left and assigned him the job of my keeper. The one who had an open heart before his wife left him.
The magic of the moment works and our conversation flows easily. We start to fall back into the friendship we had when I was younger. He opens up about his son and his heart relapse, the experimental drugs he’s taking, and the costs.
“One shot, just one damn shot, was over two grand. And he had to get the shot for six months in a row.” He shakes his head in frustration. “That put me behind, and then he had a reaction to the shots and was in the hospital for a few weeks. Scared the shit out of me. That was partially covered, but I sold my car to make all the deductibles on that.”
I try to just listen and let him vent, to offer some comfort. I don’t think he’s had anyone to share all this with since my dad left. But I can’t just listen. I’m programmed to fix. If someone presents me with a problem I can’t help but find a solution. And like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place, I see it. I know how I can help Danny get back on his feet faster and give us some time together. The problem is that the guy who sees himself as taking care of me will probably be less than amiable to moving in with me.
Chapter Twelve
“Hell no!”
Yeah, that’s pretty much what I figured he would say. I just need to lay out all the reasons why my idea is flawless.
“If you move out of your house now it will be easier to sell and then that will be taken care of before you leave. I can help you get rid of stuff and put things in storage. In fact, I’m gonna need a storage garage for this car. We can get a bigger one, split it and you can store your stuff in there while you’re gone.”
He doesn’t respond right away so at least he’s mulling it over. He takes so long to reply I think he’s not going to but he finally says, “I can’t mooch off of you.” I should be thrilled because it sounds like he might be willing, but his harsh view of himself and the situation stops me short.
“Danny it’s not…” I start to give him my logical perspective, that we’re friends helping each other out but I realize that there is no room for reason here. It’s killing me to see him hurting so much and to know I have a solution. If he would just see it from my point of view.
I drop it but it still sits heavy between us. I wish I hadn’t said it. I didn’t mean to kick this good man when he was already down. We have nothing to say to each other for the next few hours.
✈✈✈
The sun is coming up and Danny looks exhausted so I check the hotel app on my phone.
“There’s a Fairfield coming up in Jacksonville. They have free breakfast so we could eat and sleep for a few hours.”
I’m trying to be helpful but it seems to irritate him. “I’m not going to let you pay for a hotel room. I’ll get some coffee and we’ll keep going.”
I would let him be right, for once, if his plan wasn’t so dangerous. He needs sleep if he’s going to keep driving and it doesn’t look like his crushed male ego was going to let me take over anytime soon.
“I’m not paying for it.” I say quietly, “Points,” I remind him.
“Bob’s points?”
“I mean technically, yes, but they’re also my points to use. He never uses them. When he’s not traveling for work, he doesn’t like to go anywhere.” He briefly considers it then shakes his head no. I change tactics.
“I’m tired, Danny, and hungry. I’d like to take a shower and change clothes.” I hate resorting to a take-care-of-me plea but we need to stop and it’s a way that puts him back in charge. I add in, “Please.”
“Fine. Tell me where to go.” He says on a resigned breath, then mumbles, “like there’s a chance you won’t.”
✈✈✈
We eat breakfast in silence, focusing on the news that was playing on the flat screen at the far end of the room; our silent stalemate a painful reminder of how much I’ve screwed things up.
In our room, I shower first. When I finish I announce that it’s his turn but he’s already sound asleep on one of the two double beds. I stand there and watch him, wearing only his briefs; his large, beautiful male body sprawled across the bed. I’m getting chilled, my hair is still wet and I’m wearing only a towel in the air conditioned room.
I want him. I want his warmth. I want his affection; his arms around me, his heart beating close to my ear. I think about taking the other bed and leaving him alone but then I remember my Dad and Carla and their short time together. Carpe diem, girl. I peel off the towel, lay it on the pillow and slide into the small space available next to him. He wakes briefly and looks at me. I look back, pleading with my eyes, completely vulnerable, raw and naked—risking a very painful rejection. He gives in, but huffs out a frustrated sigh before he pulls me in close to him and spoons around me. This is not the way I had pictured things between us, not what I had hoped for.
When I wake the afternoon sun is seeping through the cracks in the drapes. I’m facing Danny’s chest. He’s breathing deeply and I watch, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest. I reached out to caress him and tentatively touched one of his nipples, wondering if that would feel as good to him as it does to me. He stirs briefly and smiles in his sleep. Interesting.
I lick his nipple, and then scrape it a little with my teeth. He continues to move closer into me, instinctively pushing his sleep-erection against me. I slide one leg over his hip and revel in the sensation.
He’s still half asleep but I’m completely turned on and desperately wanting that sexual high and connection with him again. I reach down and stroke him through his briefs, then reach inside the waistband, wanting to feel more. That gets his attention. He opens his eyes and smiles lazily at me.
“I coul
d get used to being woken up this way.” I like the way he says it, like he’s warming up to the idea of us living together.
“I could get used to waking you up this way.” I smile back and slowly stroke him, trying to replicate the speed he likes. It feels so good; physically, sure, but more than that. At this moment I feel close to him, connected, like we’re a couple.
Chapter Thirteen
As we reach the outskirts of Savannah, the sun is setting and I’m plotting the logistics of Danny and me staying together tonight. Unfortunately I don’t see any way for it to happen, especially when we both have to go to work tomorrow. I reluctantly ask him to drop me at my place so he can take the car to his house.
We block all the parking spaces behind my building as we unload my suitcases. I take my carry-on bag and Danny grabs the rest. As we are coming up the back steps, my neighbor, Mrs. Ogden, opens her door.
“Vivienne, I thought that was you.” She looks at me briefly then studies Danny. “I haven’t seen you around much lately.”
“No, I’ve been out of town. Were you looking for me? Can I help you with something?”
“ Oh no, I’m fine, but I took a delivery for you and I haven’t seen you around to give it to you.” She seemed a little irritated, which was odd. We accept packages for each other all the time.
“Oh, ok. Well I can take it now.”
She slips inside her door and returns hidden behind the largest bouquet of flowers I have ever seen outside of a hotel lobby. I have to step back to make room for the oversized arrangement between us. “Wow, thank you for taking them Mrs. Ogden. I appreciate it.”
“There’s a card, but it’s sealed.” I can see her watching Danny for a reaction out of the corner of her eye. She has to be wondering if this is my new boyfriend and if he sent the flowers. And ok, she’s being a busybody, but we keep an eye out for each other in the building.