Window on Today

by Joan Hohl

  “But I want—” Karla began a whispered protest, only to be silenced by his mouth.

  “And I want you,” Jared said on a ragged breath as he raised his head. “And I mean ... you.” A flare of emotion sparked in the depths of his eyes. “I don’t want a quick, marginally satisfying roll between the sheets, Karla,” he explained when she expressed confusion over his meaning. “I want to be with you, kiss you, caress you, tremble with anticipation as you caress me. I want to draw our lovemaking out until I’m ready to scream or beg to be inside you.”

  Through the haze creeping over her consciousness, Karla concluded that Jared was an even greater artist than she’d imagined. She was already trembling in response to the erotic pictures he was drawing in her mind with his passionate words. Rendered pliant, willing to comply with any and everything he might desire of her, she smiled with unpracticed sensuousness. “I want that, too.”

  Jared swallowed with visible difficulty and, in so doing, turned Karla’s insides to liquefied jelly.

  “I want to see you... all of you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to see me ... all of me.” He drew a breath and held it.

  “Yes.” Karla slid her arms from around his neck and set to work on the top button of her blouse. Her fingers stilled when he covered them with his hand. She raised startled eyes to his.

  “Let me, love,” he pleaded, dipping his head to brush his parted lips over hers.

  Pushing himself away from her with exciting reluctance, Jared stood, then drew her up to stand facing him. Then, with excruciating slowness, he unfastened the small buttons on her blouse and slid it off her shoulders. The glide of his palms over her skin ignited fires that burst into tiny tongues of flaming desire. The flames licked hungrily in the wake of his hand with each successive piece of cloth he eased from her trembling body.

  By the time Karla stood before him, unadorned and unafraid, her body was a shimmering torch, glowing from within with excitement and blazing with readiness for the quenching fire of his passions.

  “You’re beautiful.” Jared’s voice contained hushed reverence. “So very beautiful.” His gaze locked with hers, he grasped the hem of his pullover. Karla halted his move by placing her hands over his.

  “Let me... love.”

  The disrobing process was repeated. Thrilling to the texture and feel of each newly exposed portion of his magnificent masculine form, Karla mirrored his action precisely. Her eyes flickered and widened as the last article of clothing to be removed revealed to her the impressive strength and power of his need for her.

  “You’re beautiful, too,” she said in an awed whisper as, hesitantly she stroked him delicately with her trembling fingers.

  “Dear God!” Jared groaned, shuddering in response to her touch. “Karla ...” Clasping her hand, he drew her with him onto the bed. “Love me. Let me love you.”

  His mouth found hers; his tongue plunged with a desperate hunger. Karla’s mind and body surrendered to ever increasing, deepening waves of pleasure.

  Love given and received.

  Jared allowed long, intoxicating minutes to unwind while cherishing every inch of her body with his hands. Karla had never felt so tenderly cherished; the sensation was shattering. Tears glistened to the ends of her eyelashes and drowned the words of love that rushed to her throat.

  “Why are you crying?” Alarm momentarily banished the passionate huskiness in Jared’s tone. “Have I hurt you in some way?”

  “No!” Karla was quick to reassure him. “I’m not really crying. It’s just that I...” She gently smoothed the frown from his brow. “Jared, I never believed it could be this beautiful. I never knew.” Her voice deserted her; Karla let her caressing fingers express her feelings.

  Jared kissed her fingertips as they outlined his lips. “I’m glad you never knew, and grateful I’m the one to make it beautiful for you.” He kissed her mouth with breathtaking tenderness that quickly exploded into devouring hunger. With his mouth and tongue, he created a heat that scorched her lips and dried her tears.

  More passionately aroused than she would have ever imagined possible, feeling freer than ever before in her life, Karla blazed an exploring trail of her own, returning touch for touch, caress for caress, deep probing kisses for even deeper, more probing kisses. Tension spiraled and coiled inside her until, unable to bear another empty moment, she gasped his name and arched her body in silent supplication.

  Granting her plea, Jared eased his taut body into the cradle of her thighs. A thread of amusement was woven through his tightly strung voice. “How did you know I was ready to plead for you?”

  “Because I’ve been biting my lip against the same plea for what seems like forever.” Karla returned his amusement with simple honesty.

  He bent to kiss her. “I know it has been some years since you’ve been like this with a man. I won’t hurt you, my love,” he promised. “I’d die first.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes again; she smiled and blinked them away. “I know you won’t.” With those four words, Karla knowingly committed her body, her emotions, her trust, and her love into his safekeeping.

  Moving slowly and with exquisite care, Jared consciously claimed possession of her body, unknowingly taking possession of her soul as well. Karla gave both joyously, crying out his name softly when, sliding off the cutting edge of almost unbearable pleasure and tension, her body shuddered with pulsating release.

  Jared’s loving cry of satisfaction echoed her own.

  * * * *

  The day was bright; the sun was warm; Karla was content to the bone and blissfully happy. Unwilling to look for dark clouds on their horizon, she pushed all her questions and doubts about Jared’s motives to the back of her mind with her fears for the future as she smiled at him over the breakfast table.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, reminding him of his promise to give her a day-to-day briefing.

  Jared’s expression and smile were happy and free from strain. “De Chelly, of course,” he said, referring to the canyon a short distance from the lodge. “Since there are no tours into the canyon during the fall and winter months, we’ll have to be satisfied with viewing it from the rim. From here, we go on to Monument Valley, and from there to Lake Powell, where we’ll spend the night.” He arched his eyebrows. “Sound okay?”

  “Sounds fine,” Karla agreed, thinking: especially the spend the night part. A secret little smile twitched her kiss-softened mouth.

  Though Jared frowned, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes creased, betraying inner amusement. “What’s so funny?” he demanded in an unconvincing growl.

  “Why, nothing.” Karla tried to control her lips and look innocent; she failed in both.

  “Karla, I want to know why you’re wearing that intriguing smile.” His voice was low with warning.

  Karla was no longer impressed—at least, not with his display of ferociousness. The going was slow, but she was learning about him. And, surprisingly, one of the things she had learned was that behind the fierce-facade Jared affected was a very gentle, rather shy man. The knowledge gave her strength and hope ... and the courage to tell him the truth. “I’m smiling in anticipation.”

  “Of what?” He narrowed his eyes, but was unsuccessful at hiding the expectation flaring in the dark depths.

  “Tonight.”

  Karla held her breath, waiting for his reaction; it was stunning. Before her shock-widened eyes, the supposedly ruthless Jared Cradowg fell apart. He didn’t move a muscle; his expression didn’t change by as much as a flicker, and yet Karla was witness to the effect of her honesty on him; his eyes reflected the crumbling of his inner barriers. Acting on her intuition, she reached across the table to cover his hand with her own, offering understanding and encouragement.

  Jared’s blunt eyelashes flickered. His gaze dropped to her hand resting on his. Then he slowly raised his eyes to hers and turned his hand to meld their palms together in an unspoken request f
or bonding. Without hesitation, Karla granted his plea with the symbolic act of twining her fingers with his.

  The significance of the moment was not lost on either of them. For an eternity of an instant, the world and all its attendant problems receded, leaving Karla and Jared alone, yet as one in spirit, in a unity more intense and binding than could ever be achieved by a mere physical blending of bodies.

  The magic of the instant was shattered by the loud crash of a coffee cup a waitress accidentally knocked to the floor. Karla and Jared blinked, then smiled in unison.

  “You feel ready for the canyon?” he asked, tightening his grasp on her hand before releasing her.

  “I feel ready for anything.” The moment the assertion was out of her mouth, Karla knew it was true; she might very well be soaring in a fool’s paradise disguised to look like heaven, but until she was forced to vacate the state of euphoria, she felt equal to whatever it had to offer.

  Barred during the fall season from the floor of the pastoral canyon, they viewed the scene from pullouts along the south rim drive. Karla felt thrilled as she stood near the edge of a sheer cliff. While staring several hundred feet down, she was enthralled by the sound of Jared’s voice as he continued in his role of tour guide.

  “As you can see,” he said at one pullout, pointing to a scattering of dwellings on the canyon floor, “the canyon is inhabited—but not during the colder months. Most Navajo families abandon the canyon in the winter.”

  “Where do they go?” Karla asked abstractedly, as she stared in consternation at one particular section that was cut in half by the Rio de Chelly.

  “To their homes up here, along the rim.” He paused, then asked, “What are you staring at?”

  Karla slanted a smile at him, then returned her gaze to the tall cottonwood trees clustered on the banks of the river. “How odd,” she mused. “I’ve never been here before, yet I recognize that section of the floor and the far canyon wall looming over it.”

  Jared laughed. “There’s nothing at all odd about it. As a matter of fact, you admired that scene in my living room a few nights ago.”

  Memory clicked, and Karla glanced up at him in surprise. “The canyon painting above your fireplace!” she exclaimed. “You did that here?”

  “From this very spot,” Jared admitted, laughing at her astonished expression. “I wondered if you’d noticed.”

  “How could I help but notice?” Karla demanded, shifting her gaze between him and the site. “You painted from the photographs you snapped while standing here ... Right?”

  “Wrong.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “You painted it while standing this close to the edge of the rim?”

  “Correct.” Jared’s strong teeth flashed in a grin.

  “Have you no fear?”

  The grin was wiped away by the seriousness of his expression. “I have many fears, Karla, but none of them are connected to heights in any way, shape, or form.”

  Naturally, Karla was intensely curious about the nature of Jared’s fears. She was in love, truly in love, for the first time in her life, and like all lovers throughout history, she wanted to garner every scrap of information about her beloved. Questions collided into one another as they converged on her tongue. An alerted sense of caution held them at bay.

  The relationship unfolding between her and Jared was still very tenuous; they had shared a few confidences. Other than the question he had asked about her long period of celibacy, he had refrained from prying into her life. Karla was afraid to give in to the temptation to probe into his most personal feelings and emotions, for fear she might tip the delicate balance and turn him away from her. Choosing prudence, she refused the questions passage through her lips.

  “Fortunately, I don’t suffer from acrophobia, either,” she finally said, turning from him to return to the car. “Where do we go from here?”

  Jared replied in the literal sense, promising that from the next overlook they would be able to see an Anasazi pueblo consisting of ten rooms and two kivas, or ceremonial rooms, on the far side of the canyon. He also promised her a peek into a real hogan, the traditional Navajo dwelling— which turned out to be a replica of the mound-shaped structures Karla puzzled over the day before.

  Though Karla was genuinely interested, and told him so, the metaphorical quality of her question—”Where do we go from here?”—taunted her at intervals throughout the day.

  After eating lunch in the cafeteria at Thunderbird Lodge, they set out for Monument Valley. Karla filled the long driving hours by testing Jared’s knowledge with a barrage of questions about the reservation.

  Having no idea what to expect, Karla was suitably impressed by the enormous rock monuments in the valley—buttes, mesas, canyons, and free-standing rock formations in various hues ranging from pink to dark red.

  The sun set in a blaze of magenta and violet as they ate dinner in a restaurant in the town of Kayenta, where Karla tasted Indian fried bread for the first time and declared it delicious.

  Replete with good food, and pleasantly tired from their long day, they were content to listen to the CD Jared selected as they drove through darkness to Wahweap Lodge and Marina at Lake Powell.

  Since she couldn’t see much of the lake, other than a few lights reflecting off the inky water, Karla was satisfied to follow Jared to their rooms without complaint after he checked them in at the desk.

  As he had the night before, Jared opened the door for her, set her suitcases inside the room, asked her if she was pleased with the accommodations, then left her. He walked back into her room, carrying wine and glasses, thirty minutes later.

  The wine was delicious; their lovemaking was better.

  The instant Jared drew her naked body to his, Karla knew their rite of union would be different. “Different” inadequately described it. His mouth was a scorching brand; his tongue a flickering torment. His restless hands made her wild with need; his hot, plundering body drove her over the edge of reason. And, when the tumult was over, he cradled her as if she were fashioned of delicate crystal.

  Karla loved every minute of it.

  That night, by mutual if unspoken consent, they set the pattern for the remainder of their trip.

  Karla and Jared spent two thoroughly relaxing days at the lake, which revealed itself a sparkling sapphire in the glittering rays of the late fall sunlight.

  From the side of a tour boat, Karla marveled at the huge, multi-shaped rocks rising like ancient monoliths from the 180-square-mile man-made lake. She stared in awed appreciation as the boat glided through some of the ninety-six canyon passages and sailed to within gasping distance of the impressive 583-foot-high arc of the Glen Canyon Dam.

  Accustomed to a personal report from Jared, Karla was deaf to the droning voice of the tour guide, preferring the more exciting low tones of her lover.

  “This is a newer addition to the modern West,” Jared said. “The lake is named for John Wesley Powell, the geologist who charted the Colorado River. The dam cost 260 million dollars to construct, and was completed in the fall of 1963. Electrical sales of hundreds of millions of dollars have been produced since it opened in 1964.”

  Karla had been admiring the scene, not looking at him, but she glanced up with a dutifully respectful expression. “You must have a fantastic memory,” she praised on a burst of laughter. “How in the world have you retained those dates and figures?”

  To her amazement, Jared grinned rather sheepishly, and rustled a pamphlet he held in his hand. “It’s all in this guidebook I picked up in the lodge.”

  The sound of Karla’s delighted laughter rang out in the crisp air. An instant later, Jared’s deeper laughter blended with hers. Their merging laughter set another pattern for the remainder of their jaunt.

  From Lake Powell they drove across the Arizona state line into Utah to yet another, quite different, canyon, this one named Bryce.

  “About sixty million years old,” Jared informed her dryly. This time he refrained from adding, “ye
t still an integral part of the modern West.”

  “I’m getting the picture,” Karla retorted abstractedly, enchanted by cities of stone castles, temples, spires, and windowed walls in radiant shades of red, pink, and white below the plateau rim. “But,” she went on as they turned away from the magnificent view, “I’m afraid I’m also beginning to get canyoned out... if you know what I mean?”

  Jared chuckled, but nodded his understanding. “Only one more to go... at least for a while ... and I think you’ll find it a pleasant change.”

  Remembering that she had chosen to hear the itinerary on a day-to-day basis, Karla contained her curiosity and tamped down the urge to ask him exactly what he’d meant with his wryly inserted “at least for a while.” But his final assertion proved correct.

  After leaving Bryce Canyon they stopped for a late lunch, then drove directly to Zion National Park where, Karla was relieved to discover, tourists were required to view the massive stone edifices by craning their necks as they looked up from the canyon floor.

  They spent the night wrapped in comfort, and each other’s arms, in the deceptively rustic Zion Lodge. In the morning, Jared confused and intrigued Karla by allowing her to linger over her shower and subsequent breakfast, instead of rushing her through both in order to get an early start. When she queried him about his new attitude, Jared smiled mysteriously and gave her a brief answer.

  “We don’t have too far to drive to our next destination.”

  “And where might that be?” Karla asked.

  “You’ll see,” he replied, slanting a rakish grin at her. “But brace yourself; after all this natural beauty, you might be in for mild cultural shock.”

  Las Vegas ... cultural shock indeed. Glitz, glamour, hordes of people, from the narrow-eyed professional gambler to the wide-eyed tourist. The city’s garish opulence clashed jarringly with the natural wonders Jared had shown Karla, yet it also was a very real, integral part of the modern West.