Sunrise Fires (16 page)

And then it began. Small strokes at first, in and out, sawing my ass, stretching it, moving me as he wished. I winced and occasionally cried out but never stopped him. I took deep breaths and felt his cock filling me, felt the ferocity of his grip on my hips, now aching from being his handhold for so long. And relentlessly, he pounded my ass, pressing his hand on the top of my hips and anchoring me to the bed. I reached for the distant wall. Somehow, it had gotten farther away now, and I couldn’t brace myself. I put my hands near my head and grabbed the sheets and held on, trying to hold my ground. The longer he fucked me, the better this felt—his cock now sliding in and out of my tight little ass. I felt every single ridge of the ribbing on the sides of his cock. Each movement was electrifying. “Yes, baby, fuck me. Please. I’ve missed you so much.” I reached under me and fondled his balls, taking breaks to rub my newly swelling clit and finger fuck my pussy.

“Take it.” He grunted and thrust so hard that I was nearly knocked off balance. His body was bucking and thrusting into me, both of us were sweating; the smell of sex filled the room. And at last, he seized and groaned. “Yesss, oh fuck, yesss.” He pumped his cum into my ass in what seemed like a never ending stream. Shot after shot of his hot cum filled my tight little hole. He collapsed on top of me, and I let my knees slide back, lying flat on my belly now. Slowly, he softened, and my ass squeezed him out, his cum following in slow dribbles after it. He fell asleep just like that, and I was in heaven.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he alarm was a rude awakening the next morning. The realization that I was still alone was even worse. My hand was coated with my own cum, and my panties hung sadly off one ankle under the sheets.

“How sad are you?” I said to the mirror. I smiled. “Good dream, though. Really good dream.” Still smiling, I tried to remember as much of it as I could. Shaking my head, I snorted a small air giggle. “Even in dreams, you’re a good fuck. Damn, Ryan. Will I ever be loose of you? Invading my mental spaces—that’s an evil little trick.”

I brushed my teeth and moved through the day. Ryan keeping me company in the undercurrent. I tried again that evening to write to him, and every day for a week. Eventually, I gave up and decided that he was safer here in my mental spaces.

*   *   *

Christmas in Germany rode in on a Grimm brothers’ fairy tale—fluffy snow blanketed the city, lights were strung on light poles and they lavishly adorned every evergreen within miles of town, and music drifted onto the street from shops that smelled of gingerbread and Stollen. Also, there were Christmas markets set up everywhere.

The day of the first snowfall, I sat in the warmth of my living room, sipping cocoa, and watching it coat the trees in the courtyard. The bumble-bee-sized flakes fell erratically, skittering through the air on blustery wind wings. I sat and watched, mesmerized from sunset to nightfall, when the moonlight gave the flakes an angelic glow. It was silent and peaceful, and it had a surprisingly dramatic effect on my demeanor. That night, I slept better than I had since leaving Las Vegas.

The next morning, I rose to find the children’s boots lined up in the hallway by the front door of our apartment building. Ahhh, early December meant the arrival of Saint Nicholas, and he’d been generous this year—the boots overflowed with colorful candy and sweets. The sight made me nearly giddy with childlike awe and wonderment. I arrived at work in a better mood than I had in many weeks. Work had reached an even pace. We turned a decent profit, and I was able to work more on management and training than I had been able to in the beginning. The staff was capable, knowledgeable, and friendly. We’d finally found a comfortable rapport, and I was less directive and tense.

On this day, business was nearly nonexistent. Between the Feast of Saint Nicholas and the weather, few customers were likely to come to the store. Ilsa, my assistant manager, made cocoa, and we gathered the staff together near the tents for an indoor camping session. A cardboard campfire set the stage for storytelling, and we took advantage of it, each of us sharing family holiday traditions and memories. I had come to know the staff on a more personal level after Talia and Jackie left, and I enjoyed being with them. Ilsa had done well with the hiring process as I had been busy purchasing stock and setting up the store in those first few weeks.

Our indoor camping session eventually degraded to joking and laughing and telling tales of things that happened on the sales floor. I learned that my staff had originally seen me as a rigid unforgiving tyrant, particularly in August and September. And in an effort to blow off steam, they had perfected performing impressions of me for one another. Each of them took turns giving an impression of a particularly heinous berating. Each were factual, though the impressions felt like caricatures of the truth. I laughed jovially with them as I remembered each event and the stress and frustration that I’d felt. When it was Ilsa’s turn, she declined to do her impression, saying she didn’t have one. I stood instead and gave an impression of her: prim, proper, well dressed, and perfectly manicured—ever the professional with poise and dignity. She almost felt too polished for a place like Huntington’s. I was sure that she could have made millions selling fine jewelry or mansions. In my best Ilsa impression, I attempted to sell the staff a rather brutal hunting knife, exaggerating Ilsa’s flair and poise as if the knife were made of diamonds and glass. We laughed together as the afternoon hours wore on.

I released them early and closed the store myself. No matter what the personal price, I was competent here, and it made me feel good to finally feel a part of a team, watching the store become what I’d envisioned it to be, and knowing that corporate would recognize the excellence here. I wandered the aisles, assessing our store as objectively as I could. I felt the warmth of pride and satisfaction, knowing that this truly was my store, that I birthed it and brought it to this stage. We were ready for Christmas and the rush in spring that was sure to come. There was only one customer that afternoon, and he was really just been seeking respite from the bitter cold. I made him a cocoa and gifted him a Huntington’s scarf. I’d chalk that up to advertising later.

As I made my way out to my car that evening, I thought of Ryan. I wished he could have seen what I’d done here, that he could be as proud of me as I was of myself. I wished I could have succeeded in both places: my career and my love life. But if I had to choose one, professional success was the sure bet. It never abandoned me, it was predictable, and I could guarantee that I’d achieve the outcome I wanted. Romance was none of those things.

In my apartment that night, I read a book. For the first time since August, I was able to concentrate long enough to enjoy it. I told myself that this was day one in a string of what I hoped would be many.

*   *   *

Spring rushed in, and before I knew it, we were approaching Easter. Sales again swelled as people readied themselves for the temperate weather. The staff and I had found harmony and teamwork; they preempted my concerns, addressing them before I found the need to correct. The Huntington name had been established with this flagship store.

As the weeks and months passed, I found peace with my new life circumstances. The ache of missing Ryan faded with time, and I found myself dating sporadically. Men felt dangerous and emotionally unsafe. I found excuses to dismiss them all. None had as much potential as Ryan, and I wasn’t willing to risk any of me for anything less than what Ryan and I had had. And so, dates came and went, nobody lasting more than a week or two, with most not making it past the first date.
Maybe it’s just Germany
, I thought.
I’ll be back to good ol’ American boys soon enough
.

I had come to find joy and camaraderie here at the store, and it was there that I spent most of my time, not hiding as I had done in autumn, but seeking the soulful satisfaction that work brought me. I was genuinely able to relax and watch the store find its own German identity while I gradually trained Ilsa to run purchasing, human resources, and the books. I found that the less I directed the front of store, the more esprit and confidence rose within the ranks, which helped with customer service and sales. In truth, though, this was an undeniably wonderful group of people, and I’d miss them when I left.

There would be another store opening up in Northern Germany, but I turned down the position there, asking for a transfer back to the southwest region of the US. I missed home and needed closure on the Ryan saga. I wanted to face my old life and find peace and acceptance. Ryan had had a role in my life and I’d found happiness with him; I wanted to be able to look back on that time with warm nostalgia and not feel the tightening grip of failure that those thoughts presently brought. I hoped that getting home would help me in that regard. I had found a makeshift peace in the past six months by gradually closing and locking the door that led to romance. I focused on all the other facets in my life and just never addressed what was behind that door. I knew that someday I would have to change, and a trip back to a familiar place might help.

The satellite human resource office here in Germany called back to the states. Dullberth was to assign the new guy for the store in Northern Germany. It turns out that Rasmussen couldn’t wait to get back to Europe, and I was delighted to learn that in just one year, Chris would replace him as the general manager of the flagship store in Vegas. I beamed like a proud momma.
Damn, I love it when I’m right
! “You go, Chris!” I whispered to him on the wings of the universe. “I’m proud of you.”

And so, June came and I turned the store over to Ilsa. She was practically running the place already anyway. The month was filled with packing and last minute shopping for gifts for friends and family and for me—things I bought specifically to remind me of my time here. By the end of the month, I was ready to leave Ilsa, the store, and Germany all behind.

The flight back to Las Vegas was nerve-wracking. I would be on two weeks of paid time off while I said hello to the kids and checked on the house. I knew I would stop in to see Chris but dreaded the possibility of seeing Ryan. I had come so far in the process of healing, and I was petrified at the idea of falling back into that dark place. Maybe I would stop by the old house we used to live in just to take a look and say good-bye, and maybe I’d stop at the track. I needed to be able to put that life to rest so that I could move on and find someone else.

*   *   *

As I walked down the jetway, I could barely breathe for the heat. It was miserably hot. How had I ever lived here before? I couldn’t wait to strip down to a bathing suit and beach wrap! The airport was comfortably air conditioned, and the sound of the slot machines made me smile. No matter how far I ever went, Las Vegas could always make me smile. I felt like this was my city, like I knew her and she knew me. The slots were only a reminder of her seedier side, the part I never took part in, but that so many of the typical residents and surely tourists delighted in. My steps felt lighter as I approached the monorail back to baggage claim. I breathed deeply and exhaled, grabbing a handhold as the monorail pulled off.

Baggage claim was bustling. There were huge display screens flashing images and trailers of shows here in town, descriptions of Cirque du Soleil, magic shows, variety acts. Random people stood holding placards with names written on them, clearly intended to bring the special guests to their accommodations where they would be invited to lose tens of thousands or more. It felt like a circus even here in baggage claim at the airport. My cheeks began to hurt from smiling.

I approached my baggage carousel, scanning the crowd for either of my children. I couldn’t see anyone, except those who had been on my flight with me. Still smiling, as the bags started dumping out onto the conveyor, I finally heard Kelsea’s voice over the cacophony.

“Hey, Mom!” Turning, I saw that both she and Zion were here. And they were joined by Kelsea’s husband, Blaine, and my first grandbaby.

I ran to them, feeling as excited as a schoolgirl. My heart leapt to my throat, and, suddenly, they all seemed like sparkling, beautiful, perfect people that I’d feared I’d not ever see again in my life.

Tears of joy ran down my cheeks as I finally reached them. “Oh, my God, I don’t know who to hug first!” I giggled nervously as I took Kelsea’s face between my hands and kissed her cheeks, just as I had done since she was a child. And then I threw my arms around Zion’s waist and held him tightly. “So, what are we up to now? Six foot five?” His arms easily spilled onto my back and held me.

“Six six.” His deep bass voice rumbled through his chest and against my eardrums.

I looked up at him, smiling and shaking my head. “When will it stop?” He shrugged. I reached up and cupped his cheek. “I missed you, buddy.” His eyes were glassy, and he squeezed my shoulders more tightly, resting his chin briefly on top of my head.

I turned to Blaine next and gave him a hug. “Thanks for taking care of my baby and for giving me this amazing young one.” I took the baby from his arms, cooing and cuddling him. “You two have done amazingly well. He’s absolutely gorgeous.” The baby chimed in, seemingly agreeing. “So, tell me everything. I want to know how the pregnancy went and how these first couple of months have treated you. E-mails and those pictures were barely enough to keep me informed! And Blaine, how is your practice doing? Clientele still growing? And Zion, a show on the strip?! I want to know all about it. You have risen like the star you always were, baby. Who says it takes ages to find success in stand-up?”

I had a thousand questions. I had buried myself so deeply in Huntington’s that I seldom called home, and when I did, it was typically to check on things quickly before running back to work. Now, standing here in front of my loved ones, I felt reconnected. I realized that I had become disconnected even from my own children. Warm tears fell as we caught up, chatting as the baggage arrived.