by Love Belvin
My heart grew heavy, partly in confusion as to why they called Ezra if she’d made a turn for the worse, and inclining to the dejected mood of those around me.
What was happening?
Just then the lady coughed. Her body jerked in the bed and she began to gasp for air. Wails all around turned into shrieks of amazement. Then cries of relief. Then shouts of joy. Widya was responding. Ezra pulled back and stood from the bed and continued speaking, his words inaudible to me at this distance.
“Oh, thank God, Lexi!” Yanti started down the ladder, prompting me to before she trampled me.
She damn near did when we were both on the ground.
“She’s alive! Thank you, God! She’s not going to die!”
“Die?”
Where did that come from?
“Yes! Iwan said she stopped breathing and he couldn’t revive her pulse. He told us to get Mr. Carmichael—” her words were interrupted by an emotional shriek.
She began to cry in my arms. And as I comforted her, I could see everyone was in the same emotional state, only this time there were cries of palpable joy. We stayed out there for quite some time. Iwan took over and hooked Widya up to an oxygen tank. She wouldn’t let go of Ezra’s hand. A helicopter flew in to take her to a hospital in Bali again. The crowd didn’t break until she was wheeled out of her villa, rolled to the landing and lifted into the air.
It was well into the evening when the island quieted. Ezra and I ate a late lunch in the dining room of one of the pool houses. This one was a wooded structure and secluded.
Ezra didn’t speak much. He seemed withdrawn, but not in an offensive manner, just preoccupied. How could he not be? I now had an idea of how the people of Kamigu valued him. That had to be a lot to maintain. He was only a man. Or was he?
While we ate and I turned over today’s events, I recalled my conversation with Ezra when he told me about his education and travel. I remember feeling there was a whole universe buried in this mortal man. Something he was aware of, but didn’t blast to the world. The island of Kamigu knew a bit of it. They knew he had the faith to call in a miracle, something Ezra preached about in the sermon he gave the Sunday after I’d broken up with him. Ezra believed in miracles. Who did that?
He left the table and powered on the surround sound system. A soft track began to flow as he headed to the pool. As he waded through the perfectly blue waters, I mused over his existence. The lyrics of one of the songs he played our first time together began to whisper into my psyche: “There’s a universe inside of you.” How eerie! And then Ezra’s words to me the night of my graduation when he proposed, convincing me to give this whimsical marriage thing a try.
“Haven’t you ever lent your mind to the possibility of stepping out of the world as you know it and into something new…unusual… that can elevate your mind to a place where you can experience a deeper meaning?”
Ezra stood at the far end of the pool, mostly submerged and facing the ocean. The song flowing on repeat was a part of his solitary mood. As he studied the water, I examined his meditative state. Is that what Ezra did? Did he create his own world?
Or does he submit?
“What’s it like to fully submit?” I asked over the music from the open doors of the wooden pool house, still stewing over his comments last night. I was now confused about my own belief system.
I believed in Christ, more or less, because I wanted to believe in something bigger than me, something all powerful, all knowing. It was a need born out of helplessness after my father was arrested for murder years ago and left to do his bid upstate. I felt powerless like no other time. Fearing retribution, I didn’t feel covered or protected. It made room for the belief of a higher power.
“To fully submit is the most challenging thing to do, beloved. It is a practice that takes most of a lifetime to master. First you have to recognize your weaknesses. You must completely see your frailties. Once you condition yourself to seeing you have little control or power over it, it becomes easier.”
He must’ve seen the confusion on my face.
“Come,” he ordered softly. “I’ll illustrate.”
Hesitantly, I pulled my cover up over my head, descended the steps and toed down to the pool. I trudged into the water until I reached his extended hand and stepped closer to him, my timidity mirroring the dramatic melody of the flowing track. Ezra lifted me to his waist, a sharp flash of the setting sun pierced my eyes and I lost my footing, causing me to grasp his shoulders. I no longer had the benefit of balance from my legs and feet.
“You see how you just flinched?” he asked with a seductive smirk. I nodded. “That’s the struggle people live with every day in their walk of faith. You’ve just relinquished the ability to stand alone. Now”—he removed my hands from his shoulders, taking them into his gentle grip, making this demonstration a bit intimate—“lay back, but don’t submerge your head or body.”
Slowly, I reclined, the warm water meeting my skin, teasingly. My thighs tightened around his narrow waist to help me balance my float. I measured my equilibrium by how well I could hear the music.
“You feel your tremors?”
“Yeah,” I murmured quickly, afraid to keep my mouth open for too long in case I fell below the water and swallowed it.
“You’re trying to trust this process, but your body, that only prefers an upright position in distrusting water, is struggling to relax. But your mind and heart—bravery—must align first to counterbalance your body, your flesh,” he informed so eloquently, his voice soothing yet influential. “You have to believe that I’m your anchor and will protect you and guide you through these waters. I won’t let you drown or be deceived by poor navigation. That, beloved, is the role of Christ.”
“Is this what it feels like to you every day?” My words were rushed and sputtered as I preferred keeping my mouth shut.
“No, beloved.” His grin dissolved into a forlorn smile. “My walk is a bit different from the average believer.” His eyes raked over my thighs where we were joined. “Consider your swaying from the abdomen, trying to maintain your equipoise between the threatening water, and needed air to breathe. Can you envision that?”
I nodded.
“That’s what I experience every day. It’s a different phenomenon from total submission. It’s going between two worlds: the spiritual realm and that of the natural. My calling requires me to be removed from my physical casing—all things mortal—to tap into things through the naked eye.” I felt our joined bodies lowering in the water and panicked, tightening my abs and thighs to stay adrift. “And times He takes you deeper,” his rasping chords warned. “But that’s also your opportunity to elevate.” He eyed my pelvis expectantly. The music I noted had dropped to a lower pace, almost hummed the melodies, but the volume hadn’t changed.
Oh, shit!
That’s when it dawned on me to climb his waist, crawling up the wings of his broad back.
“It comes without warning, so you must pay attention, meditate on Him to be sensitive to such changes,” Ezra advised as he waded back to the shallower end. He extended my arms as he moved, his eyes stapled to mine, searing me with more suggestions than one.
And then I felt it. I was spinning in the water. Attached to his waist, I’d been distracted enough to let go and trust my husband with total control and conquered one of my greatest fears. Balanced securely over the water, I relaxed my frame even more, extended my palms, closed my eyes and opened my mouth thrilled by the pressure of the waters moving underneath me and the beautiful sight of the virile man above, peering down on me with hooded lids almost hiding his amused approval.
Then he bent, taking me at the back of my shoulders, lifting me to meet his face. After paying torturous seconds to studying my face, Ezra kissed me breathlessly, devouring me with the forceful thrashing of his tongue that I’d come to be quite fond of. I craved it in his absence. Within seconds, his demanding mouth had me clawing at the back of his head, forgetting we were in a comm
unal area and could be seen by anyone. I didn’t care. I wanted to relish this moment of teaching from this eclectic man I married and now couldn’t resist even if I tried. With his mind alone, Ezra wielded this unknown influence over me that I’d never experienced before. He was indeed an enigmatic creature, yet alluring and sexy as hell. He so happened to be my husband, too.
When he pulled back from me, his eyes were filled with what I now know as lust. For me.
“Time to turn in and get more acquainted,” he droned, voice just as melodic as the tunes flowing.
I hadn’t planned on another night of sex. We’d been at it almost daily since arriving to the island. Oddly, after that experience, I was now revved up, body heated with passion. I was sore from being overused by his wide and wild girth, but in that moment I wanted him again, until I was raw and unable to walk.
“Haven’t you had enough of me?” I wrinkled my face, convincingly.
“Never, beloved.” He began to climb the steps of the pool. “You will not be ‘rubbing’ off this build up. Besides, you owe me something. I’m going to get it before we leave this Eden.”
We were due to leave in the morning, so whatever it was I owed him had to come soon.
When Ezra lowered me onto my feet in the middle of the steps, curiosity struck.
“Hey, what’s the name of the song playing?”
It was one of the most beautiful records I’d heard in years. I could listen to it over and over.
Ezra’s eyes circled for a while as he processed my question. “That’s “In”…William McDowell,” he gave noncommittally while moving up the stairs.
He extended his hand, emphasizing his desire to have me tonight. I observed the streams of water dripping from his thick frame, striated muscles bunched everywhere reminding me Ezra was all man. I met my palm with his without an ounce of reluctance. Tonight, I would fully submit to his navigation.
Just this once.
Back in the privacy of our villa, on our last night, Ezra stroked gently for minutes long, thrust deeply, rounded his hips with meticulousness, bounding into my cavern with brute force and then repeated the cycle of measures. He gazed into my eyes intently, reading something I knew nothing of. Then he nibbled on my breast, retreated to biting my collar, and sank his teeth deliciously into the muscles between my neck and shoulder, purposely tickling my hypersensitive skin with the whisks of his beard. This went on and on. My groin tightened and relaxed, depending on his rhythm and orally activity. His cock sinking in and out, and at times, beating every inch of my core. How he could apply so much focus and inexhaustible patience on this one act and for so long, I didn’t know, but I didn’t want Ezra to stop.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, maintaining a toe-curling pace I could feel in the recesses of my cavity.
“Yo-your patience,” I partly moaned over a stutter. “I’m not used to it. I never saw it before…you know?” I couldn’t concentrate to speak any longer. I no longer had the capacity to focus on anything beyond what he did on this upward thrust cycle.
“Admittedly, I had no appetite for the wait to claim you,” he groaned as he now impaled me. “Now that you’re mine, I can apply the patience of Job for your pleasure.”
Those words, his urgent thrusts, and the sheen of sweat casing his hardness over me hurled me into a heightened state of arousal. I was rising, my body trembling with an unknown energy. My abdomen tensing, core clenching, and my pelvis lifting manically.
“Fuck, Ezra!” I moaned unabashed. “I’m com—”
I grabbed the broad wings of his back, latching on with urgency and bucked, meeting his unrelenting thrusts.
“CHRIST! THAT MOUTH!” he belted, pounding brutally into me. Deliciously brutal. “Come, Alexis! Let me hear it, beloved!” almost released as a cry.
Bombs and firecrackers exploding in my belly. White flashes of lightening appearing behind my lids. My lungs filled to capacity and sloughed air roughly to empty. Delicious zings of pleasure shot from the tip of my prickled scalp to the ends of my arched feet. This was bliss like nothing else before. When I thought his drives could get no deeper, Ezra propelled into my pussy, nearly breaking me into two. And I relished every thrust he delivered until I was rung out from the dizzying jolts from my hips pushing into him. Even when they stopped, I could feel my inner walls throbbing vivaciously. That’s when his strokes in me broke rhythm and he grunted before suspending above me. I could feel his thick rod throbbing, his hot seeds jutting from his big hard frame coated in a layer of sweat. I clasped onto him, needing to hold on or to give him something to keep him from rocketing off the bed…away from me. My arms slipped several times from his wet frame, but I fought for anchor until he was done.
“That was amazing, beloved,” Ezra praised, showering my buzzing torso with chaste kisses. “And you’ll have more. I’m going to give you lots more of those: some less concentrated and many far more intense than that one, but I’ll never forget your first. You’re incredible.” he panted, bristling with rampant excitement.
“Do I get to sleep afterward?” I yawned. “They’re sure exhausting.” I stretched my arms out underneath his thick body, contently depleted and still throbbing against his pulsing erection buried in me.
He chuckled.
Ezra chuckling?
“Maybe today, but I can’t promise completion after a single orgasm in the future. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Just the tip? I was too sleepy to address that warning.
He pulled out of me, causing a soft moan from me and a wince of his own before rolling me onto my side and settling himself behind me, spooning.
He kissed my shoulder. “Sleep, beloved. You’ll need it for our impending venture,” he whispered.
I turned over to do just that. The “In” track played in the backdrop of my head like a hushed lullaby for minutes long as my mind raced. Then, out of nowhere, I was struck with an onslaught of emotions I had no idea existed. I’d just had a vaginal orgasm. With a man. My husband. A man who was essentially a stranger, because I really didn’t know Ezra. A man that caused me to see and feel so much and so quickly. It was easy falling into a sexual affair with Ezra: he was handsome, compelling and confident. What woman wouldn’t be taken by those qualities? But I was able to keep a modicum of a barricade of control because I had places within that no one could penetrate without my consent. My shoulders trembled as I tried to unsuccessfully stifle my sobs, because in that instant I realized Ezra took that, too. It was one thing to impress me with his eloquent articulation and infinite knowledge, but an entirely different matter to infiltrate a deep, private, and vulnerable place within. I felt raw, emotionally. Felt exposed beyond what I could identify.
My mother’s mental illness had always hovered over me with gloom. I was predisposed to the same, which is why I didn’t allow myself to feel so much. It’s why I hadn’t cried in years. That shit was for the weak. As my dad would chant, “Alexis is no weakling. She’s a fucking warrior!” It was true. It was what I believed and had to against having a genetic linking to a feeble brain like my mother’s. So, I fought for mental stability, alertness and protection. Had I just given that to Ezra, a man I technically didn’t know, but was drawn to for some inexplicable reason? I couldn’t have that. My father taught me to always be tough, to fight any force no matter how big or strong. How could I fight what I couldn’t understand or identify? What weapons do you battle intimacy with?
“Shhhhhh…” Ezra soothed while rocking me in his hard frame, his touch more gentle than any he ever applied with me. “That type of sensation, and for the first time, can take your mind to low places after having been so high.” How did he know I was battling emotionally, sinking deeper and deeper into self-pity? “Don’t let it take you under, Alexis. Just breathe it off.” Ezra patted my damp hair, with calmative care. “Breathe, baby,” he whispered.
Taken by his comfort, I was already halfway into my slumber.
thirteen
> Lex
The morning of our departure was almost ceremonial. We left at the crack of dawn, our luggage taken from our bungalow before we, ourselves, left. The space was quiet; sober, but not exactly solemn. The weakness of my emotional breakdown loomed over me. I couldn’t believe I cried like a baby last night, and in front of him.
Damn… What he must think of me now.
I had no clue of what floated through Ezra’s expansive, ever-active mind at the moment, but the other side of mine was almost mourning the end of a memorable, most powerful event. My honeymoon that held so many elements—retreat, remediation, spiritual enrichment, sexual exploration, emotional awareness and release, a deeper connection with my husband, geographical discovery—I had no idea a simple marital ritual could encompass so much. The only reason I didn’t give in to gloom was because for all the reasons I had to be sad, I felt fortunate to have experienced them. I turned to face a waiting Ezra. I was leaving with the most enigmatic and stunning being I’d ever known—stunning in a frightening manner. I was also leaving with a heightened sense of femininity.
As he reached for me and I approached him at a casual pace, I realized I was leaving with a more mystical and terrorizing man than I arrived with. As we left for the car, passing lofty villas, it dawned on me that I hadn’t said goodbye to Yanti, or Ida…anyone. I would never see these people again and they were so gracious and welcoming. As soon as I pulled at Ezra’s big hand to say something, we’d just reached the parameters of the village and I caught movement in the sparse light.
“Did you forget something?” Ezra’s thickest baritone murmured.
I used my chin to gesture ahead. “Not anymore.”
One by one, we embraced the dozen or so who left their beds early to see us off. Yanti cried…or more like boo-hoo’d thanking me for the jewelry I’d given her.