Unforgettable You (15 page)

She shrugs. “I think the more important question is, what did she think about me?”

“She liked you. A lot. I think it’s all good. Besides, if she didn’t, we just wouldn’t go around her.”

“You mean you’d pass on seeing your mother for a woman?” I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

“I absolutely would. If it were someone I felt I had a future with, I’d pass in a heartbeat.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Really.” Her hand slips into mine, and I feel that connection I always feel with her. “I’d just have to do that. But I’d never have to worry about that. My mother is all for anyone who makes me happy.”

Her eyes are bright. “Do I make you happy?”

“Baby, you make me
very
happy. I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

“Good! Because I love you, Steffen. I only want you to be happy.”

“And I want you to be happy too. Are you?”

She nods and smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Very happy.”

“Good.” Even then, there’s something in her face and her voice that give me pause. What is it? I can’t quite figure it out. I pull back out into traffic and continue on toward her house. “Oh, I meant to ask: What are you doing about Christmas? I mean, with your family in Iowa.”

“I’m kinda hoping to go and see them. I want to anyway.”

“Oh.” Does that mean I’m going to be here alone for the holidays like always? “When are you leaving and when will you be back?”

“I was planning to leave on the Tuesday before and come back the day after.”

“Okay.” Yep. I’m going to be alone.

“Unless you can’t get off work then, and I’ll just go whenever you can.”

I wonder if I heard right. “You want me to come with you?”

She snorts. “Well, of course! I want them to meet you and you to meet them. I think you’ll all get along. I’ve got one brother who can be a pain sometimes, but everyone else is very laid back and easy to get along with.”

I just got asked to spend the Christmas holidays in the home of a woman’s family. I’m not sure if I should be excited or terrified. “So, how do they feel about you inviting me to their house?”

“My mother asked if you were coming. She seemed excited when I told her I was going to ask you. So yeah, I think they’re fine with it.” She’s grinning at me.

“Cool.”

“Yeah, just don’t tell them that you tie me up and fuck me. I don’t think they’d understand that.”

“Oh, that was the very first thing I was planning to tell them. ‘Hi. I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Steffen and I tie your daughter up and fuck her senseless.’ Yeah. That was going to be my conversation starter!” I’m laughing and she’s laughing and I try to imagine what that would be like. I envision a couple like in the painting “American Gothic,” horrified looks on their faces as I tell them that piece of good news. Then I wait a couple more minutes before I ask, “So, what would you like for Christmas?”
Other than a ring,
I think. Isn’t that what all unmarried women want? Frankly, I’ve been thinking about it myself. For her, I mean, not for me.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve needed a new blow dryer for awhile, and I really need a new coat. There’s a bag that I just fell in love with at Macy’s. I could use a French cookbook. Oh, and any kind of music or books, except history. I hate those.” After a moment’s hesitation, she asks, “What about you? What would you like?”

“Hmmmm. Well, I guess I could use a new alarm clock.”

“Yours is kinda ancient.”

“Yeah, I know, but I know how to work it.” That makes her giggle. “I saw a pair of boots at the Harley-Davidson store that I really like. Tickets to the opera or the symphony – I’d like those. Or a new camera, since mine bit the dust.”

“Good. Those give me something to work with.” She’s quiet, watching out the window as we roll by a donut shop, a car dealership, and a veterinarian’s office. “Oh, by the way, Trish and Clint invited us over for dinner Friday night. Can we go?”

“I don’t see why not. I hadn’t made any plans for us. Tell them we’d love to.”

“Great.” We pull into her driveway. “Are you coming in?”

I turn off the car and sit back in the seat. “That brings me to something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

I take a big, deep breath. This is a major step for me, regardless how easily it comes to other people. “We spend most of our off-work time together. Why don’t you move in with me? I’m not suggesting that you get rid of your house yet. I just think it would simplify things.”

“But if you wanted to get away from me, there’d be nowhere for you to go.”

I lean toward her and nibble on her earlobe. “Away from you is the last place on earth I want to be.” At that, she turns her face toward me and I kiss her, one of those lovely kisses that binds two people together in the most intimate of ways. “I want to be with you every minute of every day. Don’t you know that?”

There’s a weird look on her face when she says, “Sometimes I wonder.”

That catches me off guard. “I don’t understand . . .”

“Never mind. It’s just me. Don’t worry about it. So yeah, I could do that. I’d like to do that. When?”

“Whenever you want to. We can wait until after the holidays to decide if we need to shuffle furniture around, that kind of thing. That way I’ve met your family and we know if everyone’s on the same page.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now, as I asked before, are you coming in?”

I laugh out loud. “Well, hell yeah, I’m coming in! Just try to keep me out!”

Once we get inside, she looks through the mail from the day while I go to the kitchen for a beer, and I hear her gasp. When I round the corner from the kitchen, she’s pale and shaking. “Babe, what’s wrong? Sheila?” Her eyes are wet and round. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Notice of his parole hearing.” Her hand is trembling as she hands me the paper. I look it over; yep, sure enough, there it is, the date. Five days before Christmas. Well, happy holidays to us. “What am I going to do if he gets out?”

“He’s not going to get out. Clint told me he’s been in all kinds of trouble in there, right?”

“I have no idea.” Apparently she hasn’t been tipped off that Clint’s watching the situation. Thank god for Trish.

“Well, he’s not going to get out. And if he does, we’ll deal with it then. But you don’t have to be afraid, Sheila. As long as I’m around, he’s not going to hurt you. And if he does manage to, god help him.” I throw the paper onto the table and reach for her. Sobbing, she falls into my arms and I hold her tight. “No one’s going to hurt you, angel. You’re safe.” She’s shakes so hard her teeth almost chatter, and it’s clear she’s terrified. That guy must’ve really worked her over. I haven’t asked, and I don’t think I’m going to. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.

“Can I move in with you tomorrow?”

That makes me smile because it means that she trusts me, and I’m so glad. “Yes. You absolutely may. I’d love that. Now, let’s get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, you’ll see.” We walk arm in arm to the bedroom, get ready for bed, and climb in. Her eyes search my face, and I kiss her, then pull her in tight and really kiss her, like I mean it, like it’s my dying act and I want to make it count.

Finding the top edge of her panties, I slip my fingers into the waistband and pull them down and off, then slip my boxer briefs off. My growing hardness moves against her belly, and she moans into my mouth and grinds her mound against me. Her voice is breathy and hoarse with want. “Steffen, how do you want me? You can have me any way you want. I’ll do anything you ask. I love you. I want you so much.”

“I want you too, angel. Let’s just let it happen. I just want to fall into you.” With that, I slip inside her as we lie there on our sides, and rock gently into her. She presses back as my cock retreats, and we set up an easy rhythm, sweet and simple and satisfying. After a few minutes I feel her reach down between us and start to stroke herself, and I kiss her again.

She murmurs, “Tell me when you’re about to come and I’ll come too.”

“Yes, baby,” I whisper back through her lips. “Yes.”

I know I’ll remember this evening with total clarity. There’s no rope, no cuffs, no spreader bar or flogger or blindfold, just me and her and this warmth and familiarity that I’ve never had with another woman, and it fills her bedroom like fog over the bay. Her moans and sighs light a fire inside me that I know I’ll never be able to put out, and I’m overwhelmed with love and thankfulness that she’s here with me and has chosen to love me. It’s a gift I never expected to get, and it’s the most precious thing she could’ve ever given me. When I whisper to her, “I’m there, baby. Let go,” she flicks herself a couple of times and convulses in my arms as I pour myself into her. We lie together there in a fragment of the glow from the street light out front, our arms encircling each other, legs intertwined, and I feel a peace I can’t ever remember feeling before. I kiss her sweet lips again, then press mine to her forehead. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Thanks for loving me, precious.”

“Thanks for letting me,” she sighs back to me. We cuddle, our bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces, and for the first time in a long time, I hear the clicking sound as every tile falls into place.

“Look what I brought!” Sheila calls out as soon as we get in the front door on Friday evening. “I know how Clint loves my scalloped potatoes!”

Trish laughs from the kitchen. “Yes, he does. You’re putting me to shame, you know that? Why don’t you just make them for your own man and leave mine alone?”

I frown. “She does, babe. Maybe a little too much,” Listening to the two of them is like listening to some kind of goofy sitcom, and I lean down and kiss the side of Sheila’s neck.

“Oh, Sir, do it again,” she whispers, so I give that tender flesh a little nip.

A faux stern look passes across Trish’s face. “You two leave the play until you get home. Kids, remember?”

“I know. What a shame too. I’m past ready,” I snarl into Sheila’s ear and she lets out a gasp that only I can hear.

“So, how are the two of you really doing?” Boy, Clint doesn’t waste any time – no time at all. We’ve retreated into the living room while the girls put away leftovers and whisper about something. God only knows what. I don’t think I want to know. When two or more women are whispering together, something bad’s about to happen, or at least that’s been my experience.

“We’re fine – good, in fact. She doesn’t know it yet, but I think I’m going to ask for exclusivity. I mean, it’s obvious we’re already exclusive, but I want it to kinda be official, you know?”

Clint gives me a knowing nod. “I know exactly what you mean. If I could do anything over with Trish, other than, well, you know, it would be that setup I did with Gary at the grocery. I think about that and I hate myself. I mean, it taught her a valuable lesson, but I really wish I hadn’t shared her. It haunts me sometimes.”

“Let it go. We all have regrets.” I speak from experience here. I have a whopper of a regret and nothing I can do about it, at least right now. “Trish loves you and you love her. You’re both very lucky. And I’m hoping my luck’s changed.”

“She seems to be crazy about you,” Clint says as he kicks off his shoes.

“And I’m crazy about her.”

“Marriage crazy?”

I shrug. “I dunno. I think it’s kinda early for that, don’t you?”

Clint shakes his head. “Nope. Not at all. Not if you know for sure she’s the one.” He waits, an expectant look in his eyes. “You know, you’re not getting any younger.”

I let out a hard sigh and, in a voice loaded with sarcasm, reply “Wow. What a confidence boost. Thanks so much for that reminder, my friend.” He has a point, but I’m not about to concede that.

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, you did.”

Clint smirks at me. “Yeah, maybe I did! But really, why wait? If you’re sure, I mean.” He stops again. “You are sure, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m sure. I don’t know if she is, but I am.”

“Have you asked her?”

“To marry me?”

“No, idiot. How she feels about you.” He just shakes his head at me. “Try to keep up, wouldja?”

Now it’s my turn to glare. I’ve missed this, Clint and me, sparring as always. “No, I haven’t had to. She’s been very clear about what she feels for me, and I find that very encouraging.”

“Babe, you guys want some pie?” I hear Trish call out from the kitchen.

“Yes, dear,” I yell back. Out of nowhere, a pillow slams me in the face and I hear Clint laugh. “Hey!”

“Calling my wife ‘dear.’ I oughta take your girlfriend down the hall and show her what a real man’s like.” Now Clint’s laughing right out loud.

I start to laugh too. “Oh yeah? Is that right? And how exactly do you expect to do that?”

About that time, McKenna comes running into the room. “Mr. Steffen, look! Look what I made at school!” It’s some misshapen clay thing, and I look to Clint, pleading with my eyes for him to help me out, but he just shrugs and laughs silently.

I try to look and sound excited. “Wow! That’s really nice! What are you going to do with it?”

“Oh, I dunno.” She looks at it, then her face brightens and her eyes meet mine. “I think I’ll save it for Christmas and give it to Daddy! You’d like it, wouldn’t you, Daddy?” Now it’s
my
turn to shoot
him
that look that says he’d better answer this right or he’ll never get past it.