Carousel Ch. 4

Watching her dress, stepped out of the shower, head tied up in a towel.

We were on our 3rd full day together, and I was not tired of her yet. My job at the amusement park was in mothballs til spring. I had a retail job I would get to next week. This was the week of the year I usually devoted to cleaning up loose ends, finishing stories I had to submit.

That was all going much better. I had sold three since I started seeing Debbi. The bit of extra money was going partly to this trip, and partly to new clothes, and new printer.

After surprising me, my last night at work this summer/fall, she had slept at my place, and made it clear the next morning that she wanted to get away. I was free, why not. I didn't ask where her family might think she was, or where she would be. She carried no pager, no cell phone, just a duffle bag with a few clothes. And an attitude. I had finally determined in my own mind this lady was running from something. I had accidentally caught a glimpse of her other life - an indoor carousel at a mall in northtown. I didn't know what her full story was, but she was good for me, and I made sure she had reason to think the same of me.

We had headed outta town that next morning. I had the laptop if I got the chance to work, but this was looking more and more like a vacation. We had visited zoos, sanctuaries, nature centers. She had taken about a million photographs. Not of me, but all around me. She looked more relaxed and refreshed than I had seen her. I reminded myself I had not seen her at her worst, but usually only at or near her best. Now she was radiant. I had showered earlier, and sat on the bed, watching her dressing ritual, by this time familiar to me as my own face in a mirror.

She had complained at first, saying I should not watch her so intently do things that were so necessary, like make-up (pff!) hair (aaaah!) and eyes (aahhhh.) I had countered that argument by pointing out I was doing research, and shut up, you might wind up in a book, or at least a story.

Her response to that had been memorable - the look haunted me, still, as I remembered her saying, "Is it a short story?"

"I don't know Debbi. I hope not."

That had been the first morning, as she readied herself to leave town, after she had made it clear we were leaving.

"What made you so sure I would just drop everything and drive 300 miles with you?"

She had looked over her shoulder, ever the coquette, and said, "…'cause I woulda done it for you."

Infallible female logic. I woulda, too.

So here we were, 300 miles and two states away from our physical homes, more at home with each other than with our own bodies, almost.

For the present, I waited and watched her pull a comb thru her thick red hair. Her boobs bounced slightly as the comb tugged free. The motion caught my eye, much as she had almost 3 months earlier. This was a well-put-together woman. Her physique was 40ish, but her attitude and outlook, at least around me, had been more early 20s, teen-aged, even, at times.

The first day out, we had slowly moved through hill country, stopping at small towns, shops, isolated towns. In no hurry, with apparently no real aim in mind, other than get-away. A child at a fruit market had charmed her into tomatoes, which we had no way to store, and no hope of eating. I had watched the interplay, and known the two kids I had seen with her for a fleeting moment one day were quite lucky to have this lady.

In another small town, she had been importuned by a self-important church lady, waving tracts and braying about salvation. Debbi had listened quietly while I fumed. But my patience was rewarded when Debbi asked her, in a flat voice that stopped her cold - "Do you think God would allow you more success if you washed your feet?" The lady had looked down at her sandals and Debbi took the opportunity to escape into the truck. I was laughing harder as we accelerated outta town. "She coulda said that Jesus wore sandals, you know," I said.

"Yes, but I had the feeling she was not that quick-witted."

"Turned out you were right." I looked over at her, relaxed, belted into the passenger seat, still settling into the seat. "You right about everything?"

She turned to look me in the eye, disadvantaged by the fact I had to drive. "Usually. So far, anyway."

We drove on in a companionable silence for a few miles. "Debbi, tell me." She gave me her attention. "What do you like? I mean, do you want to visit a zoo? Go to movies? Have picnics? You and I sorta started in the middle of a relationship. Not that I'm complaining! But I don't know what you like, what you want to do just to spend time." I stole a glance her way. She was studying me intently.

"Movies are fine. The zoo there is wonderful. I haven't been there in a while, but it's a great one. Picnics are okay, the right time of year, a bit cooler, that is."

I had more to go on, now, but she could still tell me more, if she would. "Are you gonna make me pull teeth to find out things about you?" I asked.

"No. You already know what I like to do." I knew that if I could have looked at her in that instant, she would have had that playful grin on her face. "Why would we need to do anything else?"

"Because, dear, at my age, I can't do THAT all the time!"

"Your age has not slowed you down that I can tell."

"I have carefully hidden the effects from you. Deep down, I'm in big trouble."

She reached to my lap, and said, "How big?" as she caressed me through my jeans. I squirmed, and reached for her. She managed to stay just far enough away I would have had to stop the truck or risk a pile-up to reach her. She laughed, and the cab was filled with music and memories of stars and sunsets.

We settled back, and let the miles go by. The land flattened, the river ran, and the time passed. She undid her seat belt and turned so she could put her head in my lap. She rebuckled her seat belt around her hips, and made herself comfortable. Not knowing if she wanted to sleep or be tended, I moved my right hand from the wheel, and slowly rubbed her back and flank, carefully avoiding anything that could be considered suggestive. I didn't have to give her ideas. She had plenty on her own.

Her hands were tucked beneath her head. I asked if she wanted the travel pillow I kept in the back. She shook her head, and I let myself believe it was because she wanted to be next to me. I adjusted the playback on the tape I had going, and continued to rub her back. I drifted in my mind back to the previous night. She had come to the park just at closing. I had given her a key. She had been in my bed when I got home. Long time since that happened.

When I awoke the next morning, she had been dressed, nearly ready to go, and told me her plan: Get out of town, stay a week or more, and come home ready to meet the work-a-day world. Since she had not said with whom she wanted to meet the world, I had room to fantasize.

I had tied up some loose ends, cleaned up, packed in 25 minutes, and hit the road, happy to be with this magnificent creature who made it her business to make me happy. Now we had been 3 days in a strange town, loving, living, eating, joking, playing, looking. She had me to the point for 15 or 20 minutes at a time, I could forget this had to end sometime. The crash in my head and heart when the knowledge came rushing back to me, was getting less and less resounding. In some circles, this could be seen as acceptance.

We had eaten at a Chinese restaurant, with goldfish running through ponds set in the walls and floors. We had visited the zoo, with the Imax theater, seeing a show about the Grand Canyon. We had walked through a river park, and through the oldest section of downtown, where funky little shops offered everything from used books to sheep skin leather coats. A street fair in the Italian section of town had caught her fancy, and she had danced in the sunshine with an old man with merry eyes, making his day and mine. The old man had said to me, "Your wife is wonderful!!" The old man's wife had not been fooled however, tossing her head in a elegant gesture of disapproval as Debbi had hugged me with glowing cheeks, flushed from exertion, her smile so wide it felt like it hurt her face.

In the evenings, as she rested, sleeping lightly on the couch in the room, I had typed furiously on the laptop, writing a story of love and wonder set in an earlier century. I had not known it was there. Part of me knew it was a gift from Debbi, but I could not think about that while I wrote it down, typing at maximum speed before it leaked out of my head.

The evening before, as we had prepared for bed, she had been looking at the screen when I emerged from the shower, wet, dripping. I had stopped rubbing the towel on my head, and looked closely at her. She had a bemused look as she scrolled through the pages on the screen.

"What?" I said.

She looked up at me, and asked, "Do I always sound like this heroine of yours? In the heat of passion, do I make those noises?"

"If you are asking if you are the inspiration for that character, yes. And before you get all swelled-headed, know this: I may not be able to write any other female characters, since you are the only one that matters anymore." I pulled her to her feet, and kissed her. She clung to me tightly, the flimsy nightie she had put on rough against us both.

I have tried to write kisses before I met this lady. I had not succeeded that well then, but until I knew her, I didn't know how badly I had failed. Or maybe it was that now I had a referent, and knew that all other encounters had paled next to kissing this lady. She had turned a kiss into an event, world-class.

Her mouth moved against mine. Her teeth pressed at me from inside her mouth, her tongue darted against my lips. Most guys would by this point be calculating the odds of getting her into bed. That was her magic. All I was doing now, was kissing her, because she made it the most important thing of all. Her hips moved against me, urgent. I responded, helpless to do otherwise.

Tall as she is, I am quite a bit taller. I was never conscious of stooping to kiss her. She pulled me to her, thighs against mine, pelvis grinding against me, filling me with desire. I reached to the hollow of her waist, and picked her up from the floor. Her legs wrapped around me, feet locked behind me, kiss never broken. I knelt at the edge of the bed, and lay her down gently, arms circling her. Her legs squeezed me tightly, her mouth urgent against mine. As my full weight descended onto her, she pulled her hips and pelvis against me, feeling for my hardness with her fiery wet spot.

We continued to kiss. Her tongue darted around my mouth while she adjusted her body to mine, unconscious of her movements. It was not a matter of putting this here, or that there, it was only a matter of making things right, having me against her here, not against her there, our mouths close, our hands finally together, our bodies met.

I moved her another foot onto the bed, and slipped between her legs, changing the angle so I could penetrate her. Heat and pleasure rose up from her as her stomach muscles flexed and bent, moving her pubis to the right angle to receive me. Her arms were locked around my back, like her legs. My arms were around her, behind her, on the bed. There was nothing left to make entry easier. Not to worry. She pulled the end of my dick down with her pussy, and swallowed it all in one motion.

From the moment we had begun, we had been kissing. We still were. I slid carefully into her, as carefully as one enters heaven, while nipping at her lips, sliding my tongue into her mouth, chasing her tongue, making her laugh as she made it dance out of reach. There was no part of her she didn't' want me to have, but she wanted me to earn it all.

I leaned my head onto the bed, her head turned to continue kissing me. Then we hit a very sweet spot, because she finally broke the kiss, turned her head straight up and gulped in great gouts of air, not because kissing had deprived her of breath, but because the union we had effected had somehow made her soar, had lifted her to a high place, where the air was thin and made her work to breathe.

I huffed out on her shoulder, not wanting to move except in one spot, which was pulsing in and out. I found the breath to kiss her neck, her shoulder, and tongue the angle of her throat, following the line of it down from her jaw to her collarbone. In response, she shuddered. I felt better about that than graduating from high school. I wanted her on overload, unable to process information except in dribs and drabs, because always in the back of my mind, I was sure that if she thought about it, she would leave, and not return. I felt that if she was engaged enough, sexually, she would be unable to think well enough to realize she was with me.

A hearty grunt escaped her throat. She called my name. I pumped in and out as she wetly grasped at me. Her arms moved lower on my back, pushing me harder into her. She was demanding more, and I wanted her to have it. From me. I pushed until I felt her legs move aside even wider, to accommodate me. I felt my length all the way into her, and knew that the heights were just beyond. I slipped my right arm from beneath her, and moved it to her ass. I gathered a handful of flesh, and kneaded it as I pounded in and out of her. My fingers moved closer to her backside. Her legs lifted higher to grant me access. Her knees were nearly at her head.

I moved away a bit, supporting myself with an arm as I worked in and out of her. She had that look on her face, the one that said she had gone internal, making her own feelings paramount. She was working at sex, greatest of all endeavors. Her hips thrust toward me as I moved into her. Hard to believe only 5 minutes earlier I had been alone in the shower. I had the feeling I would never be really alone ever again.

I searched her face for clues as to her place on the mountain. She closed her eyes and moaned again. But it was her hand that gave her away. As I moved faster and faster in and out of her, her hand touched the arm that was supporting my weight on my elbow. It was the gentlest touch, barely noticeable on a clear night alone under the clouds. It should have gone unnoticed in the storm of love-making. But she touched me with her fingertips. And her eyes went out of focus. And she gushed liquid from her insides, making the pussy I was fucking a hot well of pleasure and sensuousness.

Whatever her liquid, I topped it. I added to it. Gushing back into her all the froth and salty solution which emanated from her. I came and came, locked into her eyes, doing my best to remain coherent enough to kiss her, failing at that and surrendering to the ultimate pleasure.

I straightened my legs. Hers left my sides, lowered to the bed. I stopped in my move to disengage, even slightly, and stooped to kiss her, again. I knew by now to be careful. She would be ready to go again, and for the next little while I had nothing to offer.

I moved from between her legs, and lay beside her. She curled into me, facing me. I loved this. Rather than the easier way of spooning against me, she wanted to face me, wanted us together even in this. Later would be time for cuddling.

I spread her legs, and put my thigh between her legs, careful not to bump sensitive areas. I reached behind me, and swept the coverlet over us. It was light enough to let air exchange, but heavy enough to keep flowing air off us. I didn't want drafts right now. I wanted kisses, and whispers.

"Did you mean for that to happen, right out of the shower?" she asked.

"Darling, you surely know by now that anytime is the right time for that, between us. How 'bout you? You only just got cleaned up, too."

She looked up at me. "What do you think I got cleaned up FOR?"

I smiled back at her. She was for the moment at that impish stage, which would not last long. She would want to talk a while. I fought back sleep rays. "Have you had a good time, today?" I asked.

She whispered, "Compared to the last 10 minutes, no."

I smiled again. 'God,' I thought, 'if you mean even half of what you say…'

"It's still light out. Do you want to go anywhere?"

Head shake, negative. All right with me. I would worry about room service in a bit. Right now, I wanted to love this woman, in the afterglow of another encounter that I had never dreamt of, but that had lately become my world.

I kissed her forehead, which earned me a tilted head, proffered lips, and lovely eyes. She was tired, I could tell, since her back and hips did not arch into me. We kissed, and she moved away. I threw off the covers, and watched as she retreated to the bath. The door closed. I waited.

…and snapped awake. I had fallen asleep for about a second. Seemed longer. I heard the water running. She returned, and rummaged in her bag, found a favorite sleeping shirt, and put it on. No panties. This time she turned and put her back against me, but for 15 minutes, she never stopped burrowing, getting closer. I had my arms around her, my pillow arranged so I could have my head next to hers, our legs twined together. Again, as had become a ritual, or a reminder of other lives, I reached up to her neck, and touched her necklace - a carousel horse. It had become a touchstone to us, though I had not been the one to give it to her.

I woke to soft music, piano and strings. She had gotten up sometime, and put on a CD. The music wafted gently into the indoor air. The subdued light from the bathroom showed her sitting in the overstuffed chair, by the window. She was looking out through the sheers, heavier curtain pulled back.

I marveled again at the lines of her face. She had a chiseled look, finely shaped bones, great skin, and lovely hair. The eyes I knew, but could not see well at this distance. I rustled the covers to see her reaction, and there was none. I threw back the top covers, and slowly sat up. Now she turned to me, and looked a haunting look back at me. "Morning."

"Surely not yet, is it?" I asked, unbelieving.

She smiled. "No, but it is after midnight. What should I have said, Mr Writer? Good---- what?"

"Ok, ok. Good morning."

I stood and trooped to the bath. When I came out a few moments later, she was still staring out the window. "Big city nightlife?" I asked.

"No, just thinking."

It was as I had feared. When she had time to think, to consider her actions, she would not hesitate to tell me to take her home, or find her own way home. I don't think my voice croaked when I asked, "About what?" but it might have.

She tried impish. Newsflash for anyone who needs to know: Impish is not a good thing at 2.30am in a foreign city, even with someone you have charmed into loving you.

"About waking you up and finding out what it's like to make love at 2.30am."

Suddenly I didn't care if impish was the right attitude or not. Worked for me. I pulled her to her feet and kissed her. She melted against me. The thought ran through my mind - 'This lady is…' and I stopped there. All what? All mine? All sex? All … what?

She broke the kiss before my unruly mind could answer an unanswerable question. She tugged me by the hand toward the bed, pushed me over onto my back and straddled my face with her legs. Now this, as a midnight diversion, I could get used to.

When we had done this in the recent past, it had seemed important to her to control herself, not let herself go. She would let me eat her happily, but I had the idea her real pleasure was in the giving, not so much getting. Which worked out. I had never come that way in my life, and despite growing feelings for this lady, I didn't see that changing. She had admitted to me she liked eating, and was okay with getting. So we had a basis for pleasing each other.