He listened attentively, occasionally asking questions, but was quiet when she finished.
“You okay?” she asked, tracing his jawline with her fingers. “What are you thinking?”
He gave her that sad smile of his. “Just thinking how we both wasted so many years of our lives with other people. We might could have got to this point way back then, and gone from there.”
She leaned toward him and kissed his nose. “Quit beating yourself up. Let the past go. Maybe it wasn"t meant to be, back then. Maybe we needed this time to grow up and be ready for each other.”
He nodded. “Are we ready for each other?”
She sighed and thought before answering. “A few weeks or months ago, I was convinced I didn"t need any more long-term relationships. But this feels right.”
He grinned and kissed her cheek. “It sure does.”
“So are you ready for me?” she asked.
“I hope so,” he said.
She slid her hand down his body and felt that he was hard again. “Well, you"re ready in one way, anyway.”
“I sure am,” he said, and covered her mouth with his.
They scooted closer together. His hands caressed up and down her body. She lazily stroked him and gently massaged his testicles. They continued kissing until she was dripping wet. He slipped two fingers inside her and brought her to orgasm while they necked. He continued to kiss the breath out of her while coaxing her to sweet storm after sweet storm. Then he began to roll her on her back.
She resisted, prodding him onto his back, instead. She reached across him to take a condom off the night stand, tore it open, then sheathed him in it. She slipped her fingers between his on both hands and straddled him, lowering her face to take charge of the kissing.
His hips instinctively raised again and again. No question what he wanted. She placed his hands on her breasts and said, “That"s where these belong.” He obediently kept them there, kneading, pinching and rubbing as she slid back and positioned herself over him. Waves of pleasure wracked her body just from the sensations coming from her breasts. Then she seated herself, completely engulfing him down to the very root. They both groaned their approval of this fitment.
She planted her hands against his chest and rode him, in complete control of the angle and speed. Frank eagerly followed her lead, thrusting up to meet her halfway with each stroke.
She noted the intensity of expression and chuckled. “Are you enjoying this?”
“Very much,” he replied. “Are you?”
“If you only knew,” she said, tossing her head to get her hair out of her vision.
Marvelous little sparkles blossomed in her loins and spread all over her body. She bit her lip, but kept moving up and down him.
“Celeste,” he said, “I"ve wanted you for so long. I can"t believe I found you again.”
She wanted to reply, but could only moan, as another orgasm built and flooded through her. She slowed the pace, but continued riding him. When she regained composure enough, she asked, “You ready to cum, baby?”
“Just keep doing what you"re doing,” he said.
“Oh, I intend to,” she said. But then another bomb went off inside her and she lost the ability to do anything but moan.
And keep riding him.
Her orgasms came faster and closer together until she was delirious, but somehow she kept going until she rode him to climax. He grew hotter and harder before erupting inside her, which set off a chain reaction that made the previous explosions seem minor in comparison.
Exhausted, out of breath, and her inner thigh muscles burning, she collapsed next to him, a weak, quivering heap of overstimulated nerves. He wrapped himself around her and kissed all over her cheek and neck.
As she began to recover, she arched back against him and reached behind her with one hand to touch his face. He swiveled his head to kiss her palm and fingertips.
“I didn"t bring a scarf,” she panted. “Can you get me one of the hand towels from the bathroom so my hair doesn"t get messed up?”
He kissed her neck again and scooted away. In a minute he was back with the towel. She didn"t think it would work very well, but sat up and tied it on her head anyway. Then she lay down, welcomed his embrace and dozed off.
She awoke to the growling of her stomach. The room was dark. The clock read 9:23 pm. She rolled over to find Frank on his side, with his back to her. She drew herself up against him, slipping an arm around his midsection, pressing her palm against his flat stomach. He stirred at her touch, then rolled over to face her, yawning.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, palming his cheek.
“With my eyes closed.”
“You"re such a smarty-pants,” she said, and they grinned at each other.
“You"re so beautiful,” he said, eyes scanning her face.
“I know,” she said.
“Modest, too,” he added, and they burst out laughing.
“Thank-you,” she said. “I"m glad you find me beautiful. You"re not bad to look at, either.”
He grinned, sheepishly, and his cheeks colored.
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “You"re blushing.”
“I told you,” he said, “you knocked me completely off balance. Whenever I"m around you, I"m like a nervous puppy.”
“Spoken like a devious player,” she said, giggling.
“Yeah, right. I guess players blush, then.”
“I"m hungry,” she said.
“You"re not the only one,” he said, crowding her until she felt his stiffness against her tummy.
She reached down to grip him, grinning smugly. “My new friend is back. He really likes me, don"t he?”
Frank nodded, licking his lips.
“I think I could begin to like him, too,” she said, reaching for another condom.
They got each other ready quickly but without haste, and came together again. This time it was a wild, rowdy marathon that ended with her on her back, legs straightened, pointed up toward the ceiling with him between them, driving into her fast and furious. He grunted and gasped. She wailed and screamed, leaving fingernail marks all over his back and butt.
Both of them weak in the knees, they showered separately so they wouldn"t be tempted to go at it again before getting some food in their system.
Frank took her to a steak house, opining that anything less just wouldn"t do justice to the occasion. While they worked on the steaks, she asked him, “You really only had one girlfriend before you graduated high school?”
He nodded.
“What happened after that?”
“Don"t say it like that,” he said. “I"m not a player. I like Shauna, but she was wrong about that.”
Celeste swallowed a piece of steak, then got a chunk of baked potato on her fork. “But you"ve had several girlfriends, from what I hear.” Then, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial level, she added, “And you must have picked up those skills somewhere.”
He sighed. “I guess it was college. I really found something I was good at, there, and it boosted my confidence. Enough so that I wasn"t as scared or ignorant about asking girls out anymore. Then each girl I…”
As he searched for an inoffensive verb, she suggested, “Consummated with?"
“Thank-you, teacher,” he said, blushing again.
“After each new conquest…” she prodded, taking her bite of the potato, then gesturing with the fork.
“After each one, I was a little less ignorant and timid,” he said, shrugging. “Then one day, I was fairly bold and knowledgeable. Unfortunately, I was also pretty discouraged after so many failures.”
“Failures?” she asked.
“Well, they all ended badly. Actually, the breakup with Nikita was the most amicable I"ve ever had.”
Celeste closed her eyes. “Please. I"m trying to forget that you were ever with my sister.”
“Sorry. Me too.”
“But you wanted something more than what you got? Something long- term?”
“You don"t know?” she asked, watching his eyes closely. “Do you know if you want something longterm now?”
“Celeste, there"s a lot about me I"m afraid to share with you right away. Eventually I want you to know everything, but I"m afraid of freaking you out or scaring you off.”
“Like what?”
“I"m from a dysfunctional family,” he said. “And I"m pretty sure that I"m a dysfunctional individual in some ways. I"m not bipolar or dangerous or anything, but, to be honest, I think I"ve still got some childhood issues that haven"t been completely worked out, yet.”
Celeste thought of her own family. “Don"t we all?”
“Maybe. But it feels to me like it"s a little too early to be dumping it all on you. This has been such a great time together—can"t we just continue to enjoy it spontaneously? We"ll have plenty of opportunity later to see each other"s dirty underwear.”
She made a face. “When you put it like that…”
“You know what I mean, right? When some of the euphoria wears off, and we start to see more of each other"s flaws. I want this dream to last as long as possible, before reality starts nipping at it.”
She looked down into her plate. “Just tell me you"re not gonna dump me when reality does start setting in.”
He set down his utensils and took her hand in his. “Celeste, I don"t have a crystal ball. All the experience I"ve had up to now has taught me what not to do. There"s still a lot I don"t know about what to do. But I believe, I truly believe, that even when we learn all of each other"s faults, I"m still gonna want to be with you.”
She squeezed his hand. “I can accept that for now.”
“How about you?” he asked.
“I feel the same. But you"re right: let"s just enjoy ourselves for now, and let reality sink in when it"s inevitable.”
They went back to the hotel room and made love again, watched some TV and fell asleep after calling the desk to ask for a late checkout.
Frank suggested they shower together, but she thought they should take a bath together first. They bathed each other and held each other and talked until the water was cold. Then they showered, performed oral favors for each other, then he took her from behind under the steaming hot spray from the showerhead.
On the drive back to town, she found out he was a closet Shaggy fan. Since she liked Reggae, they jammed to two albums full of Shaggy tunes.
Frank was on vacation until after New Year"s, and they spent most nights at her house, because she found his mattress too stiff for her comfort.
They didn"t spend every waking moment together, as they both had things to do. But they spent every night and morning together, and many an afternoon. When they met each other after a separation of any length, he almost always had a gift for her—flowers; lotion; Jolly Ranchers. Then he really surprised her one day by taking her to her hairdresser. She had remarked once about how she was overdue to get her hair done, andwasn"t even sure he had paid attention. But he had.
They entered the salon and all the sisters present—three stylists and six customers—stared at her and Frank, conversation choking off when the door closed behind them. Celeste recognized the disapproval in their faces that she should desecrate their feminine sanctuary, not just by bringing a man, but by bringing a white man.
She was right on time for her appointment and got attended immediately. Oblivious to the stares, Frank sat to wait for her, quickly lost scribbling in the notebook he used to plan out his video shoots. She watched him while telling the stylist what she wanted. The serious set of his mouth and the intense hazel fire of his eyes made her smile and want to hold him.
It seemed his energy level had shot even higher than normal since the road trip. He was a dynamo, lifting weights; planning his shoots; editing the footage he already had; calling actors and crew members and the agent who had gotten his first videos sold, then taking her out on the town or making sweet love to her until she was delightfully sore and fatigued.
She was starting to understandwhat he said about “tunnel vision” too. He really did sink into his own little world a lot, whether it be working on his projects, watching a movie, reading or even just thinking about something. He went almost into a trance-like state oblivious to everything but what he focused on. Sometimes she had to touch him to snap him out of it. Even then, his mind seemed to be far away sometimes. It could be annoying. But during their quality time together he focused that tunnel vision on her and that was something she couldn"t imagine ever getting tired of—being so important that nothing else in the world mattered to him. His disorder was a flaw most of the time, but she felt her heart being taken captive anyway.
When her hair was finished, and Celeste told him, “She needs some money, sweetheart,” Frank unglued himself from his notebook, blinked rapidly while glancing at his surroundings, then rose and crossed to the register while pulling out his wallet. He paid cash and gave the stylist a tip. It was comical to watch the expressions change on all those black female faces. Most of them couldn"t disguise their envy, and Celeste could swear a few of them were undressing him with their eyes.
She took his arm possessively and said, “Thank-you, baby. How do I look?”
“I wouldn"t have thought it possible,” he said, “but I think you"re even more beautiful than when we walked in.”
She would never have guessed she had an exhibitionist streak, but she did get tremendous satisfaction out of kissing him there in the salon with all those haters turning green watching her. She smiled and waved sweetly as Frank led her outside.
They spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together. She bought him a Rolling Stones CD, a pair of shoes, some shirts, and enough mistletoe to place strategically at both their houses. He bought her an iTunes gift card, some books by authors she liked and a dress suitable for any event he might have to don a tux for again.
After going through five boxes of condoms, she went on the pill and their lovemaking, incredibly, got even better for both of them.
At first, Celeste watched her favorite TV shows at her house while Frank worked on his videos at his. But soon his diligence inspired her, and she unleashed her own creative energy at the word processor while he worked at the non-linear editor.
One day, when they kissed goodbye before attending to their separate errands, he took her face in her hands and told her, “You are so beautiful.”
She melted under his adoring gaze.
“Thank-you,” she whispered.
“I wanted to tell you when we"re not in bed, so you don"t think it"s pillow talk.”
She kissed him warmly, starting to recognize deep feelings within herself for this man.
That night she cooked for them, and asked him during the meal, “Are you ready yet to talk about where we"re going?”
He swallowed his mouthful of roast and wiped his mouth. “I guess you deserve an answer, don"t you?”
“I"m not trying to rush you,” she said. “It just seems like we shouldn"t go on indefinitely without some idea…”
“Okay,” he said.
“You mentioned your family,” she said. “Start with that if it makes it easier.”
“My mother"s family was from northern Italy,” he said. “My father will try to pretend he"s Sicilian, sometimes, but his family came from around Rome. Anyway, Italians are big on family. Or so they"re quick to tell you.”
She could already hear some bitterness in his voice.
“My mother always harped on the importance of family, how it was the cornerstone of civilization, love, marriage, blah blah blah. Every time she sees me she wants to know when I"m going to find a wife. She acts like I"m defective because I"m not married.”
“I think a lot of ethnic mothers are that way,” Celeste said.
“My father didn"t put it in words as often, but he was the same way,” Frank said. “An Italian nationalist, wannabe Sicilian, masquerading as a
family man and a made man. All the fancy suits and jewelry all part of his costume, and he even tries to put on a Brooklyn accent sometimes. Never lived there in his life.”
Celeste shrugged. “I guess that"s a little eccentric.”
“I think he even convinced himself he"s a big shot in the Mafia, because he"s been keeping mistresses on the side since I was five. My mother knew about it. I think she knew from the beginning. But it never stopped her from feeding me that hypocritical shit about love and family.”
Celeste reached across the table to give his hand a comforting squeeze. His anger was obvious.
“My mother was no saint, either. She was a lush and a gossip, and had the hots for her doctor. She fooled around, too, but stuck with my father for years after our nominal „family" was nothing but a sham. I think she did it so people would consider her a martyr for standing by her husband through all his infidelity. It was my senior year in high school before she finally left his sorry ass.”
His resentment of them was palpable. She remembered he hadn"t even called them on Christmas.
“I"m sorry, Frank.”
He patted her hand. “I"m not trying to give you a sob story, here. The point is, I think my upbringing has given me some hang-ups that are hard to get over.” He pointed at his temple. “I mean, in my head I know they"re hang-ups and probably skewed quite a bit. But that doesn"t make it any easier to get around them.”
Celeste released his hand and leaned back. “Is this your way of telling me you"re afraid of commitment?”
“Not really,” he said, twisting his face as if searching for the right words. “I can commit, I think. But I despise all the facades about family and marriage. I think all these traditions that have been foisted on us are bullshit.”
“Not all of them are facades,” Celeste said.
“Over half of the couples on the planet, they go into debt spending a fortune on a ceremony that turns the whole thing into a grueling ordeal for everyone involved, and then they"re divorced in a few years anyway. But not before they"ve brought kids into the world, to be fought over like two dogs with one bone. Then neglected while each divorcee goes off looking for their next dysfunctional, doomed relationship.”
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