“May and December:  The Journal of Bleu_Light_Special (II)

                 by Katherine English

My life has changed so much since my introduction to womanly passion in the arms of my beloved Amora (Bisexual Awakenings: The Journal of Bleu_Light_ Special). It’s hard to believe that almost a year has gone by since our tearful parting on the shores of Cholla Bay. So much has passed my way since then…so many experiences…and not all for the better…

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Journal Entry: March 8

He said he loved me.

He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and that he only wanted to be a part of my life. That was when I still believed him…when I thought his youthful, blue eyes were smiling just for me. But no more…

Scott was the kind of man who knew just what to say, what to do to get me to drop my defenses. He was experienced far beyond my tender years, and as I came to know him, I came to trust him.

But…Scott turned out to be a “user”…a manipulator of women, a man of great disguise. I wish I’d known that before I went to his estate that night. It would have saved me a great deal of mental, and physical pain.

Scott’s elaborate home was set far out in the desert to the north of town, away from the bustling byways of Tucson where his “pastimes” might have been more noticeable. It was a beautiful place…a mansion in fact. Built amid a series of courtyards, it boasted huge, Spanish-tiled greatrooms and massive fireplaces…chandeliers and imported tapestries. But, it was the bedroom that demanded center stage.

Scott’s large bedroom suite was masculine in design. This was no surprise, but the heavy, iron rings set in the walls and ceilings, and the odd leather structures scattered about should have alerted me immediately.

Scott laughed them away…a joke set in place by a former owner, he said. Then he cradled my face in his palms and looked deep into my soul. “Trust me…” he’d whispered.

And I had.

We’d eaten on the patio that night, beneath the smog-free brilliance of the clear, desert sky. We had lobster and a light pilaf…and wine…so much wine. My head began to spin with the indulgence of it all…or was it truly the libations alone that had sent me into such a stupor? I remember closing my eyes, the table beginning to waiver ever so slightly, and when I awoke I was in a large, sparsely furnished area adjacent to his bedroom.

But, something was wrong…seriously wrong. I felt myself bent forward over a saddle of sorts…something like that used by gymnasts. I tried to move my arms, but found them bound below me. My ankles were spread on the far side and likewise restrained. I felt the cold leather padding beneath my naked form. Open and exposed, I cringed. Where were my clothes? What was happening? Why was I…?

And then I knew.

Scott sat before me, naked, the familiar warmth gone from his eyes. Now instead, the cold, icy stare of a sadist remained, and I knew I’d made a serious mistake.

“Jillian,” he said, abandoning my preferred nickname of “Bleu”. “It’s about time. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see you bound on this thing, helpless and naked…spread…”

Circling, he moved across the room towards me then, a leather riding crop in his hands, and with a savage slash he whipped it across my buttocks once…twice, and a third time until cold flames began to widen and spread over my vulnerable skin.

Hot, salty tears began to stream down my cheeks. Terror and pain, confusion and shame overcame me. I whimpered at first, then cried out as I felt the crop lay a crimson path across my pale flesh once more.

He laughed, and groping between my legs he grabbed my pubic hair in his fist. “I see the collar and cuffs match,” he observed crudely. “I always wondered if you were a natural redhead.”

I felt him move closer, his heated flesh pressed close against my tortured buttocks, his fingers exploring my rounded orbs in perverse delight.

“So pale…so untouched, until now” he murmured. “We’ll have to change that.” And then, in one hard thrust he forced his massive erection deep into my belly, abusing my tender sex with his savage penetration.

I screamed in shock and pain. Nothing had prepared me for this! Humiliation swept through me, and I heard him grunt in satisfaction. Again he lunged, harder this time until I felt that he would rip me asunder with his monstrous proportions.

“No…no…”I pleaded. “Why are you doing this…Scott? Why? Don’t…please. Please!”

His breath came in ragged gasps now, his lunges slowing finally…and then he withdrew. I whimpered in relief, but only for a second. Then I felt his finger probing between my buttocks…pressing against my narrow portal until, with a sigh he thrust it deep inside.

I gasped, squirming to evade his digit, but he held me fast. “So tight, Jillian,” he murmured huskily. “You’ve never been fucked there before, have you?” he laughed. “Good! I like being first!” Then, removing his finger, he parted my trembling buttocks with his hands and ran his tongue along my quivering fissure.

“You’re going to hate this, Jillian…”

“Oh, please, Scott,” I begged. “Don’t do this! I can’t!” I cried, remembering the tiny dildo my former lover had used in that place, and the pain it had caused.

He laughed all the harder at my protestations. “Go ahead and beg,” he said. “I like the sound of it. Scream, if you want to. I like that even better! No one can hear you way out here, Bitch…so scream your lungs out if you like!”

And with that he positioned his throbbing knob against my untried opening…pressing… pressing as I cried out in torment. Then, with a long, hard thrust he hilted himself deep in my narrow passage.

The pain was excruciating! I cried. I begged. Long wails tore from my lungs, piercing the air in their desperation, but my agony only increased his pleasure. With savage intensity he ravaged me over and over until I grew light-headed from my tortured screams and the room began to swim. Finally, as darkness overcame me I felt his hot offering filling my abused body…and then nothing.

Scott delivered me to my apartment the next morning, bruised and battered, warning me of the folly involved in reporting the incident to the police. No one would believe me, he said…his family was too well known. If anything, all of Tucson would believe that I’d engineered the whole episode to capture myself a rich husband, and then turned on him when my plans had failed to yield results. I’d best keep it to myself…or else.

So much for a pretty face! There has to be more to men than this. Why am I doomed to see only the crude underbelly of that peculiar gender! Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong direction.

I think more and more of my beloved Amora, and the sanctuary she holds in waiting for me at Cholla Bay. It would be so easy to run to her…to have her kiss the bruises from my body and soul…but I mustn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to pop in and out of her life like a jack-in-the-box, then leave her alone in the end. But, I long to see her so very much, to have her give me the assurance that only she can instill.

I finger the delicate silver chain with its tiny key dangling between my breasts…her gift. I wear it always now…a reminder that I’m never alone, that I’m loved and that I always have a home.

I must send Amora an e-mail and tell her that everything is all right, that I’m moving to Tempe in a few days to attend Arizona State University. She’ll believe that, and in fact it’s the truth, but it’s also the truth that I can’t bear to stay in this place any longer. At every turn I see memories of my tormentor. I can’t eat…I can’t sleep. He seems to be everywhere.

I have to leave…and start again…

Chapter 2

July 7 – Tempe, Arizona

It’s been so hot in this place! Someone told me yesterday that Arizonan’s never go to hell, because they can’t take the cold.

I can believe it!

I burned my hand on the door handle of my car yesterday, if you can imagine that, and now I can hardly stand to use it. How did people ever live here before air conditioning?

I parked in the small lot by Payne Hall today. My assigned parking place is almost a mile away, and I had too much to carry to deal with it on the ASU parking trolley. So, I paid the extra $5, and was glad that I at least had the option.

Slowly I gathered my books and paperwork, my backpack and purse and climbed the stairs into the shady breezeway that separates the two halves of the building. Ah…whoever designed this building must have been a genius, I thought for the umpty-ninth time as the cool swirl of air lifted my long, auburn hair from my neck.

Summer school had seemed like such a good idea last spring in Tucson, such an easy way to gather an early twelve credits before the fall semester started, but I hadn’t counted on the heat. Now, at the onset of my second summer session, I was wondering if I’d been mad to ever think of such a thing!

Sweaty, and uncomfortable, I shifted my new texts into a tight embrace between my body and my left elbow, trying to adjust my pack and purse in my right. Then everything fell apart. My purse strap began to slip, and making a mad lunge to save it only sent the remainder of my load helter-skelter across the pavement. Books flew in all directions, and my small collection of vital paperwork swirled outward across the neatly trimmed yard like leaves on a whirlwind.

I was in a panic…what to do first, save my purse, my books, or the paperwork that I so desperately needed for my first class? I looked frantically around me for help, but it seemed that the heat had robbed even the most ardent do-gooders of their tendencies. People just hurried on by…rushing desperately toward their next fix of canned air.

I would have to fend for myself.

And so, grabbing my purse, I turned and began to scoop up my errant papers, chasing them here and there as they traveled from one dust devil to another. Did I find them all? Did I…

“Is this yours?” a gentle voice questioned.

Quickly, I turned, and found a smiling, knight-in–shining- armor clutching the last of my documents.

He was tall, this kindly soul, and very attractive. He was perhaps in his fifties, with a smattering of steel gray streaked dashingly across his temples, and the muscular build of a man who loves to work with his hands. The deep tan of his skin told me that he was no novice to the desert sun, and his casual dress spoke of local informality. But it was the warmth of his infinitely blue eyes that attracted me the most. They spoke of concern, of caring…a Samaritan in an age if infidels.

“Are you okay. Miss? Can you get all this?” he asked, nodding at the unkempt pile that sat on the pavement before me. “I’m heading across the breezeway to Farmer if you need some help.”

The name of the familiar, atrium-filled building gave me hope. That was exactly where I was headed! My class in statistics was due to begin in just a few moments, and at this rate I knew I’d be late.

“Oh….thanks! Are you sure?” I hesitated, thinking that he too might be heading somewhere in a hurry. “I’m not going to make you late, am I?”

Again he smiled. He had such a great smile! It just drew you in and made you a part of his world. “Well…maybe a little. But don’t worry about it. I’ve got some leeway.”

With that he gathered the last of my load and headed across the pavement toward the Farmer Building, his pace brisk and step sure. In a few moments we found ourselves standing on the south side of the atrium, at the base of the stairs leading upwards into the catacomb of classrooms above.

“I might as well finish the job,” he joked. “Where to?”

Again I hesitated. He was just too good to be true, and you know what they say about that! “The third floor,” I replied, my better judgement warring with my tired and aching arms. “Room 315.”

Quickly he nodded, and taking the steps two at a time he rapidly covered the distance, with me puffing along behind. “It’s over here on the left,” he nodded, heading in the direction of the door.

“Oh! I can get it now.” I responded, reaching for my books. “You’ve done enough…really!”

“No problem,” he replied, opening the door to 315 and walking into the semi crowded room. “Saving ladies in distress is a hobby of mine.”

Warily, my defenses began to take over. Why didn’t he just leave now? Why was he still standing there? Did he want a tip? “Listen…can I give you a little something for your time?” I asked uneasily, reaching for my purse.

Immediately, the shutters dropped on his sunlit eyes, and a look of saddened resignation took over. “Most people would just say ‘Thanks”,” he replied, leaving my belongings on the nearest desk, and walking toward the front of the room. Then, to my amazement, he turned and walked up to the huge chalkboard attached to the front wall. He paused only a second before taking a piece of chalk in his hand and beginning to write:

“Dr. Benjamin Gates”

“Alright everyone. I’m sorry I’m late,” he smiled, addressing the waiting class. “I’m Ben Gates. You’re welcome to call me Professor Gates or Ben if you prefer. This class is ‘STP 226, Elements of Statistics’. Does everyone have a syllabus?”

My eyes widened, a sinking feeling curling tightly in the pit of my stomach. What were the odds, I wondered? It couldn’t be! My luck with men was holding strong, and all of it bad.

I breathed a sigh, resigning myself to whatever fate might come my way, and buried my nose in my wind-crumpled syllabus. This was going to be a very long semester, and from the look of it, all uphill.

The class lasted for the rest of the morning, as so many of the summer crash courses are wont to do, but finally, my head swimming with descriptive statistics and correlations, I was set free to once again melt in the afternoon sun.

Nervously, I glanced at Dr. Gates, weighing the idea of throwing myself on my sword by way of making amends…but I was too late. Already a group of my peers had gathered around his desk, “add and drop” slips clenched tightly in their sweaty palms, pleas for appointment slots on their lips. It would take forever to get close to him, and even then I would be forced to air my faux pas in a public forum. It was a lost cause.

Resigned to my fate, I gathered my belongings, securely this time, and made my way toward the door. I needed a Coke…and a taco. Maybe some churros and a milkshake would be nice…comfort food to uplift my downtrodden spirit. Cheesecake…that was it, I needed cheesecake! Surely, somewhere in the maze of eateries at the Memorial Union there must be a slice of Sarah Lee’s finest! What would the MU be without forbidden delights?

Quickly I made my way to the ground floor, inhaling the last sweet smell of cool oxygen before braving the blistering day once more. Then, gathering my burdens against my body, I made my way unwaveringly through the blinding rays toward my objective. Already I could feel the faint trickle of sweat trailing between my breasts. Oh, God…let there be cheesecake, I whispered to myself…and if it has nuts and caramel, I’ll do a good deed every day for a week.

Finally my destination loomed before me, and in an instant I slipped through the glass doors and into the blessed embrace of canned air. My body, by now trembling with heat exhaustion, was sweat streaked and wilting. If only I could go braless as my lesser endowed sisters had the option of doing, I would indeed be a happier person at the moment. As it was, my clothing, bra and all, was stuck to my body like a second skin. Every curve and freckle stuck out as though I were wearing the “Emperor’s New Clothes”…absolutely nothing. I had to rid myself of some of my excess wardrobe…it was a necessity. But, ever since the abuse I’d suffered at Scott’s hands only a few months ago, I’d taken to dressing in layers of loose, concealing clothing. What was I to do?

Quickly, I bought an icy Coke from a nearby vendor and tossed back its contents, hungry for the chill relief it promised.

It was a mistake.

Suddenly, my body was wracked with pain, a brutal cramp tore at the core of my chest, and I doubled in agony.

“Hey!” a familiar voice intruded. “Don’t you know any better than to…”

Then, as the shadows darkened, I felt the floor rise up to meet me, and a hush fell over the room. The sweet smell of cheesecake began to fade in my mind, and the cool tile of the marble flooring caressed my cheek.

The day, so long and tortuous, was not yet through with me…not by a long shot.

Chapter 3

I felt the cool. Wet trail of his tongue long before I opened my eyes. His hands, so delightfully chilled, enticed my nipples to attention and I moaned in rapture. He was here, my white knight…Professor Dr. “call-me-Ben Gates”…stroking my body and whispering words that sent my blood racing in intimate profusion. “Oh yes,” I whispered, my voice a soft hush amid the rhythmic waves of compressed air. “Touch me there, Ben. Touch me…”

Rhythmic waves?

Ben?

My eyes flew open. This couldn’t be happening…not this too! Had I really said…?

Then I cringed. There, before me sat none other than Ben Gates himself, a cool cloth in his hand, stroking my clammy brow in the dim light of the college infirmary.

“My Dear, “ he said in amusement, “if I touched you anywhere else I think we’d both be in trouble.” Then he laughed. He thought this was funny! What an ass!

I could feel the ire rising in my craw. I’d drop his class…drop all of my classes and transfer to another college. I didn’t need this kind of…

“How are you feeling?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice. “You just can’t chug a cold drink like that when you’re overheated in this climate. It reacts like an extreme brain freeze. Don’t you know that? Your system can’t take the shock. You have to sip…”

“Ohhhh,” I moaned, my head pounding. “I can’t believe how that felt. And here you are again. You were touching…ooohhhhhh!”

I could feel the crimson fire spread from beneath my collar and up along my cheekbones. If it hadn’t been for the warmth of his smile, the understanding twinkle in his eyes, I would have gladly curled up beneath the infirmary cot and died a grateful death. As it was, I felt once more in his debt, a position I found anything but comfortable.

“So you’ve saved me again.” I replied, trying to make light of my embarrassment. “You may need to keep an eye on me,” I laughed. “I’m an accident waiting for a place to happen, it seems”.

It was his turn to laugh then. “I’m sure there are any number of young rescue workers here on campus who’d like that job.” he smiled. “They’d stampede right over a senior citizen like me!”

Senior citizen? Him? I couldn’t imagine it! The cool touch of his hand on my brow drifted once more through my mind, and I felt my nipples stiffen. If Ben Gates was an example of American aging, then I had a lot to look forward to.

Ben rose then, and offering his hand he helped me to my shaky feet. “The nurse says that you can head along as soon as you’re able, but that you shouldn’t drive. Have you got a way to get home?”

Immediately I thought of my sun-baked Beetle, sizzling in the heat by Payne Hall and realized that the nurse had been right. Driving this afternoon was out of the question. Even now my head continued to pound and my vision blurred. I felt as though a million tiny jumping beans had taken over my system. Driving like this would be criminal.

“Oh, sure.” I replied shaking my head. “It’s not far. I can just call a cab and…”

“A cab?” he echoed, amazed at my naiveté. “After what you’ve just gone through, you’re going to go out and wait for a cab? You’ve got a lot to learn, ‘My Girl’, if you’re going to survive this summer. You just came close to a heat stroke. You’re not used to this temperature. You need to stay out of the sun for a little while until you get back on your pins. Don’t you know anyone who can drive you home?”

I thought for a moment, not the easiest task I’d attempted today, and silently shook my head. I didn’t know anyone here, not a single soul. Who could I call to help me? Who’d care?

Ben frowned, as though he could read my thoughts, and a wave of pity washed over his gentle features. “Well then,” he offered slowly. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m available. If I’m going to lose a student, I’d rather it not be to heat stroke.”

Then, hurriedly, as though he feared my gratitude, he rose and called for the nurse. Paperwork ensued, a list of ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ and within a half-hour I’d been consigned to Ben’s care for the short ride home.

Ben popped me into a wheel chair and chauffeured me down to the main entrance. “Now just wait here,” he cautioned. “Relax, and I’ll drive up front in a few minutes. How are you feeling?”

I smiled. How could I tell him that I felt like shit, that my head was pounding and that I still felt like every breath was going to be my last?

“I’m fine,” I lied, attempting to keep my voice steady. I’d had enough melodrama for one day. All I wanted now was to curl up in my cozy bed with nothing but the low moan of my air conditioning filling my mind for the next week or so.

“Good” he nodded, not quite convinced. “You just wait here, then.” And with that he trotted down the stairs, past the wheelchair ramp and vanished behind a thicket of white oleanders.

He was a nice man, I thought as I watched his lanky frame lope solidly down the steps, a decent man…the kind who cared for no other reason than the fact that it was the right thing to do. He was a rarity, a diamond in a world full of rhinestones.

Ben Gates was special.

In no time at all, I saw a desert-beige SUV pull alongside the curb, and Ben trotting merrily toward the door. “Hang on, Jillian. We’re going for a ride!” he announced, maneuvering the infirmary’s wheelchair gingerly down the ramp. “I have the best AC money can buy, all cranked up and waiting for you, so just sit back and enjoy the trip.”

Carefully, he drew abreast of the passenger door, then opened it wide to allow me entry. The cold blast of air hit me like a welcome zephyr from the arctic. Immediately I felt the goose flesh begin to rise on my arms, my nipples hardening and my lungs drinking in the chilled essence of it all. Oh, what a relief, I thought. Air conditioning is a true miracle!

Once inside he asked “So…where are we going? I may need directions on this. I live in Ahwatukee, and some of the side streets around here aren’t all that familiar to me.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s not far. Just head south on Mill Ave, take a right on Broadway, and I live just over the tracks on Farmer. It’s an old place with a really eclectic yard…a John Deere tractor and a Japanese koi pool if you can imagine. I think the owner has a weird sense of humor.”

He smiled…a smile that shouted out the pure joy he brought to life. “Yeah, there are lots of places like that in the old part of town, I’ve heard. I even passed one place with a scaled –down Eiffel Tower filled with geraniums sitting right in the middle on the front lawn…and another with a fountain made out of vintage toilets! It’s a crazy town, but unique…very unique.”

“Ah…a politician, I see,” I joked. “’Unique’…not everyone would be so diplomatic.”

“Well, “ he paused, a gleam in his eye, “When you’re as old as I am, you learn to walk on the safe side of the road. It gets you there in one piece a hell of a lot more often.”

There it was again. How old was he, I wondered. Certainly not more than 40…45 at the most. His broad chest and firm body attested to a life of healthful activity and youthful pursuits. Surely he couldn’t be all that old! Suddenly, the devil grabbed my tongue and I blurted out the thought that was foremost in my mind.

“And how old is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” I posed. “You make it sound as though you’re Methuselah’s grandfather.”

“Well…” he began slowly, “I’m probably old enough to be yours, or pretty close to it. I’m 55, and teaching my last semester before a well-planned retirement. So what are you…18…19?”

“I’m 20!” I retorted, trying to sound indignant. And, I’ll be 21 in a few months. I’m not quite the baby you’d make me out to be!”

He smiled again, my attitude apparently a source of amusement. “Okay…okay. Not a sin to be young, you know. We all had it once. We just got over it!”

I laughed. He was disarming, this patient man. He had an unflappable sense of humor that took the sting out of the situation with a gentle ease borne through many years of practice. I could get used to this, I thought, the idea warming me. The way he makes me feel, the pure pleasure of his company could get to be habit forming. Maybe fate had taken a hand today. After all, it had brought Ben Gates into my life, hadn’t it?

In no time at all, we were pulling up to the curb in front of my small duplex, the sounds of the trickling fountain above the koi pool insinuating itself into the corners of my mind. It would be so good to get these clothes off and take a long, cool shower before tucking myself into bed.

Gratefully, I turned to my benefactor and tried to offer my thanks, the words forming slowly on my tongue like molasses on a warm day. Would it be inappropriate to invite him in for coffee, or given the heat, something cold to drink before he went on about his business? If he hadn’t been my teacher it would have been the natural thing to do, but…

“Would you like to come in for a minute” I blurted out before I had a chance to rethink the offer. I have cold beer, bottled water, pop… I won’t insult you with cash again,” I paused, “but would a can of pop be out of line?”

He looked as though he wanted to accept, like he might have actually enjoyed my companionship as much as I did his, but then the moment passed.

“Um…no, but thanks anyway. I need to be getting home. I have things to do if I’m going to keep ahead of that class of yours,” he grinned modestly. “You’re all getting too smart for me. Good thing I’m retiring after this semester, or I’d have to go back to school myself just to keep up.”

I laughed at that. What a guy! I’d checked up on his credentials before I’d ever enrolled in his class. The man had no less that three PHD’s , 30 years in the classroom, awards up the “ying-yang”, and here he was making jokes about his level of expertise. Where had this kind of man vanished, I wondered, remembering Scott back in Tucson? And, why hadn’t I ever met anyone like him before?

“Well, I guess I’ve embarrassed you enough for one day, Ben,” I replied quietly. “But, if you ever change your mind…”

Now why had I said that! He must have thought me a total fool! He’d as much as told me that he wasn’t interested, and there I was babbling like an idiot. What could I have been thinking?

Thanks again, Ben,” I finished inanely, opening the passenger door. “You certainly saved my bacon enough times today. I owe you one…or three.”

Then it hit me. The heat…my shaky legs…that clammy feeling washing over me like a tidal wave once more. With a stifled groan I slumped against the fender and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d anticipated after all. Already the shifting foliage in the yard was swimming before me, a sea of speckled sun and shadow. Was it going to…

“Okay…hold on there. I’ve got you. Just lean against me and take a deep breath,” he said, his concern wrapping itself around me. “Why didn’t you say you still felt like hell before we left the infirmary? You shouldn’t be on your feet, young lady. You need to be inside rehydrating with a cold washcloth over your eyes. Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?”

And with that he scooped me up in his arms…his strong capable arms and maneuvered the corded wooden walkway to my door. “Is your key in your purse?” he asked, relieving me of my small leather bag. “Let me get you inside before you start decorating the sidewalk with all kinds of unsightly stuff…then I’ll call the clinic and ask for advice. How does that sound?”

I closed my eyes. It sounded wonderful. No, more than wonderful, Ben Gates was proving to be heaven sent…the right man in the right place.

“Thanks,” I said once more. “I seem to be saying that a lot today, at least to you.”

Quickly, he carried me inside and lay me down on my worn, but comfortable sofa.

“Now, hold still while I call,” he ordered lightly. “Everything’ll be fine in no time.” Then turning toward the phone stand in the corner he began to dial.

Fatigued and disoriented, I lay my head back against the cushioning surface and felt myself begin to drift off. Somewhere, far away, I heard his voice… pauses… affirmations…and then silence. A solid pair of hands began to rouse me, a voice, far away directing me to take off my clothing…strong arms lifting me…carrying me…to where?

Then I felt it, cool and wet, the welcome caress of fluid touching my heated flesh, the soothing words of comfort that nudged me from my sleep.

“Jillian. You have to wake up now. I have to take your temperature,” he said. “Don’t fall asleep yet. There’ll be time for that soon enough. Here, open your mouth.”

I felt the bitter taste of alcohol as my thermometer tickled my tongue, and the warmth of his hand as it supported my neck. All around me the water swirled, caressing my skin, cooling my naked flesh. It felt so good. And then there was Ben, his voice in the darkness, touching me once more, his hands a lifeline to the outside world. I could stay like this, I thought. I could just drift on this sea of dreams and muted sensation for the rest of my life.

And then he shook me!

“Wake up, Jillian. You need to sip some of this. You need to get some fluids into you before you sleep.

I gasped, my drifting dream a shattered bit of crystal at my feet. No longer did I float weightlessly amid the clouds, my throbbing head a thing of the past. I was here, in my own bathtub, and Ben Gates was nudging a container of lukewarm bottled water between my lips.

A pause (how long?), and then the thermometer once again made its presence known…a muted grunt, and I felt myself being lifted, wrapped in a warm towel, and carried to my bedroom.

The darkness closed around me in soft ebony waves as the drapes were drawn and the cruel sun made a hasty retreat. Once more I felt the water bottle against my lips, an arm tilting my head as I sipped, then slowly lowering me to the cushioned surface below.

Had I felt his fingers trail along my cheek then...his soft breath in my hair, or was it my imagination? All I can remember was the fear I felt every time his presence faded, and the desperation that overcame me as I curled my fingers into the fabric of his clothing to keep him near.

And so he stayed.

Chapter 4

I felt the warmth of him as though in a dream, long before the hard, solid length of him nudged my hip in the fledgling dawn. I gasped, waking with a start, then warm memories of the night before began to flow over me.

The heat…the infirmary…then Ben Gates to the rescue once again. I remembered my fingers clutching at him last night, responding to the empty fears that had filled me in the darkness, until he had finally lain beside me and chased back the dread.

And now, here he was, and poking me in the hip was his…

I blushed. Even knowing that passion had nothing to do with this morning salute did nothing to keep my response at bay. If the distortion of his jeans was any indication, then my rescuer was prodigious indeed.

Slowly, I raised my eyes to his sleeping face, to the gentle flow of his silken hair…to the full measure of his lips. What would it be like to touch him, I wondered, to feel that sensuous mouth move slowly over my own… over my body?

Without thinking my hip began to move against him, nudging his arousal in an age-old invitation. What was I doing! He was my teacher…my white knight. Not once had he given me reason to believe that he…

And then he began to move. Somewhere in the dim void between sleep and the waking world he began to respond, his hips pressing closer, his palms circling my naked body in a welcomed caress.

I hesitated at first, knowing that I was taking advantage of the moment, knowing I should wake him…but then I felt his lips against my throat and my nipples began to harden. Would it be so bad? Would any harm be done if we…

Slowly, I felt his hands flow across my flesh, downward… downward until his fingers cupped the downy triangle between my thighs and I surged against him.

The hard, male surface of him pressed insistently against my belly now, and I reached my hand between us to explore its rigid contours. So hard, so strong, I thought as my fingers nudged his zipper aside and probed the underlying warmth for his heated flesh.

And then it was mine! Breathlessly, I explored, releasing his member from its cocoon of clothing, running my thumbs over his moistening knob as he hardened even more in my palm.

He sighed, a long, drawn out moan and drew me close to him, his newly freed flesh seeking…seeking…

“Oh Jennie,” he moaned softly. “I’ve missed…”

“Jennie?”

And then, as quickly as it had begun it was over. Ben leaped quickly from my grasp and parted the curtains, his face scowling and disoriented, his manhood safely tucked away once more.

“Jillian, that shouldn’t have happened. I apologize… sincerely. I wasn’t…you’re not…”

The words, so hard to find in this awkward moment, failed him, and I knew I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t me he’d wanted in his arms…not me at all. It was someone named Jennie who’d filled his dreams…Jennie whom he’d sought in the intimate void between sleep and wakefulness.

“It’s alright, Ben. I understand. I was just as much to blame, maybe more. I knew what I was doing. I thought maybe you had too, but I was wrong. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

We stared at each other then, neither knowing how to continue. The heated memory of his hand between my thighs still had the power to arouse my mind, I realized. I’d let the situation get out of hand, and the responsibility for this current awkwardness lay primarily with me.

“I don’t know what to say, Ben. I thought that you’d wanted… No, that’s a lie. I just knew what I wanted. When I woke up and felt you so close, so warm and secure against me I couldn’t help myself. It seemed right at the moment…and so wrong now. Can you forgive me?”

“Forget it,” he replied, straightening his clothing. “No harm done,” he concluded, his gruffness belying his embarrassment. “It was my fault as much as yours. It’s just been a long time…” And then he stopped, as though betraying a memory, as though each word exposed a deeply hidden pain that had found solace in the cloistered recess of his heart.

A long time? Was he saying…? It couldn’t be, not for someone as obviously virile and deeply sensual as Ben Gates. But there it was. “…a long time…” he’d said. What did he mean?

I wanted to ask, to fill the void left by his words. But something told me it wasn’t the time, and I wasn’t the right person to be asking. And so the silence lay between us, long and heavy until finally he cleared his throat and collected his car keys and wallet from the nightstand.

“I should be heading off now. My office hours begin in thirty minutes, and I have a full schedule. Will you be all right? I mean…how are you feeling this morning?” he questioned, a little abashed that it had been an afterthought. “Do you need (was he blushing?)…ummm…anything…before I go?”

The vertical blinds cast thin stripes across his features, making him look for all the world like a convict pleading for a parole…and so I released us both.

“No…no. I’m fine. I’ll rest up for a while, and be in class on time this morning. I promise!” I smiled, grateful for the shadows that hid my eyes.

“Class?” he said, as though it had been the farthest thing form his mind. “Oh…CLASS!” he laughed. “I almost forgot. No…don’t worry about class. I’ll get my teaching assistant to copy my outline for the day and give it to you tomorrow, if you’re up to it. Just take it easy until you’re sure you’re on your feet again. Some things can’t be rushed.”

Then, turning quickly he opened the door and vanished into the glare of the early morning sun, leaving behind a curious void that whispered in somber tones…“This is not the end…” ------------------------------------------------- chapter 5

Now I know why so many students carry “sports bottles” loaded with chilled electrolytes when they travel around campus. Some of us just learned the hard way, I thought, clutching my newly purchased container in the crook of my elbow as I climbed the stairs to room 315.

I’d tried to come to class yesterday, but my knees just hadn’t cooperated. And so I’d spent the day soaking in the tub, and sipping an unending string of cool beverages. Finally, by the time the sun had set in a ball of flames in the western sky I was feeling like myself once more.

I slept well that night, plagued only by the dim memory of the morning before, and of the necessity of facing Ben once again when the new day came. But, he’d said it was all right, he’d understood. Hadn’t he? Only this morning would tell.

A little breathlessly I reached the 3rd floor, and turned toward room 315. The door was open, held by another student who’d seen me making my way down the hall. Quickly, I slipped inside and wrapped the cool, climate-controlled environment about me in delicious relief.

Quietly, I took the first available seat and began searching the room for Ben. He was there, alright, dressed in a casual tropical shirt of a deep blue that brought out the depth of his eyes. Once more I wondered how a man like that could be alone, when so many women would have given their eye teeth to share even a moment’s time with him. He was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, but he wasn’t mine to solve. He was my professor, and I his student. The lines between us had to be reconstructed after yesterday morning… and the time to start was now.

With a flurry of deliberate activity, I nodded in Ben’s direction then began to prepare my clipboard for this morning’s notes. If my actions were overly exaggerated, Ben chose not to notice and went on filling the chalkboard with the statistical formulas that we’d be learning that session.

And so the next four hours passed, Ben carefully avoiding eye contact, and I fearing that he wouldn’t. Finally, as the lunch hour neared, the class ended and we all made our way out into the atrium once more.

With small sips of cool Gatorade sliding soothingly over my tongue, the trip to the MU wasn’t nearly as frantic as it had been two days before. In fact, I’d barely broken a sweat by the time I felt the rush of cool air from the student union building welcoming me inside.

Today, lunch was foremost on my mind…that and the awkwardness of my morning class with Ben. How could we possibly continue for the next five weeks like that, I wondered…avoiding each other’s eyes, almost fearful of accidental contact? Being politically correct could be a bitch, I thought. There was still time to drop the class, but did I want to run away again?

Grabbing a taco salad from the serving line, I paid for my lunch with my campus “Maroon and Gold” meal card and found a seat in a blissfully shaded corner of the room to gobble my food before my next class. That’s when he came in.

I don’t know why it surprised me. Everyone ate here, unless they grabbed a sandwich from the “roach-coach” between Farmer and Payne. This was, by far, the better choice.

He didn’t seem to notice me as he made his selections and took a table in the center of the room. He sat alone, with the ease of someone who has gotten used to it. That was something I knew about all too well. But, he wasn’t alone for long. One by one students and faculty dropped by, nodding their greetings, asking questions or just acknowledging the presence of a familiar face. It was when he turned to nod at one such contact that he noticed me watching from the sanctuary of my dusky corner.

His eyes met mine then, and I flushed. How terrible to have such a weakness, I thought, reflecting on my many shortcomings…something that telegraphs your emotions so completely… something that strips you to the bone in the most public of places. What would he do now, I wondered? What would he…

And then I knew.

Clutching his tray in one hand, and a manila folder in the other, he rose and made his way through the lunchtime chaos toward my table.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, his eyes smilingly disarming. “I have the notes I promised you, and, well, I thought we should talk. Sound alright to you?”

What could I say? My heart was pounding in my throat, and my lips had gone dry. Ben Gates had turned me into a gibbering idiot.

“Certainly.” I tried to say, but it sounded a lot more like “shirt-in-fly”. I flushed again as he checked the front of his pants. Why was this happening to me?

“Are you trying to tell me something?” he laughed. “I haven’t had zipper problems in quite a few years, but I always wanted to make an outrageous entrance.”

Ben laughed again, and my flush grew deeper.

“Take it easy, Jillian. I was just joking! But that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. You shouldn’t worry so much about what happened yesterday…I’m not. If it’s the last embarrassing moment either one of us has, it’ll be a miracle.”

I tried to meet his eyes then…to read the gentle openness that seemed to sooth my discomfort.

“Here, wait a minute.” He smiled. Then rising, he vanished into the melee along the serving line for a few minutes. When he returned he was carrying two small, but lethal plates.

“Cheesecake!” I howled. “How did you know! And it’s the ‘turtle’ kind, with nuts and caramel! I think I’m in love!” I blurted easily, the thought of the sweet delight moistening my palate. Then I realized how inappropriate I must have sounded and glanced in horror at Ben.

Ben only laughed all the harder. “I think I am too,” he gasped between guffaws. “I have it on sound reconnaissance that this is the perfect ‘peace pipe’. Whaddya think?”

I smiled then, the kind of smile you get when you settle yourself beside an old friend. “I think your reconnaissance team may have been peeking in my window.” I laughed. “And you’re right. Life’s too short to get twisted up over something so unnecessary. So does this mean we’re going to be friends?”

Ben smiled an impish grin then, and as though he couldn’t help himself he replied: “After yesterday, I think it’s mandatory.”

I rolled my eyes, and he roared his infectious laugh once more. Ben Gates was indeed a special man. I was lucky to count him among my friends, I thought. But was that all I wanted?

And so it went, each morning opening into the next until a day without the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand on my arm was a day without sunshine. I found miracles in the world once again, and longed for the moments when I would get to share them with him. Though only a matter of weeks, it seemed as though I had known Ben for a lifetime. I wanted him desperately, but how could I tell him something like that?

Finally the Fourth of July weekend loomed on the horizon, a full four days with nothing to do but relax and enjoy the few pleasures that the horrendous heat in the “Valley of the Sun” had left to offer. It was over coffee in the MU that it first came up.


“So, are you going to bury yourself in paperwork this weekend?” I joked. “Even you must need a break sometime.”

He stirred a little Equal into his mug and smiled. “Nope. I have my weekend all planned. I have a little sloop over at Lake Mead, and I plan to use the time getting her ready for a trip.”

“A trip?” I grinned. “How far do you plan to take a sloop on Lake Mead? I mean, it’s a great lake, but isn’t it a little small for a sloop?”

Visions of the deep-water expanse behind Hoover Dam crossed my mind, and in the very middle a sailing ship searching for a good wind to nowhere.

“Well…it’s not the biggest sloop in the world…44 feet, first off. But, I never planned to leave it there anyway. I’ve only had her at Lake Mead while I reconditioned her. In a few weeks I’ll be hauling her to San Diego for some serious sailing.”

“Wow, lucky you!” I burbled. “What a weekend. I’m jealous, you know. I’ll be thinking of you every time I have to wrap a bandana around the car door handle just to get it open. You’re torturing me...you know that?”

“Well, it’s not much cooler at Lake Mead, if that’s any consolation,” he murmured softly, studying his mug. “But the wind on the Lake helps, and you can always jump overboard when it gets to be too much.”

He paused then, as if wondering how, or if to proceed, then set his jaw and continued. “Jillian, I usually take a few of the kids with me on these junkets to the lake, but I just didn’t see any I was comfortable inviting this weekend. Would you like to go? I mean, you’d have your own room and all…no strings attached. I won’t be insulted if you say ‘No’.”

I paused then, everything inside of me screaming “Yes!”, but knowing that Ben meant exactly as he’d said…”no strings attached”.

The more I’d come to know Ben Gates, the more attracted I’d become. I wanted more from him than a fishing expedition, much more, something that perhaps he wasn’t willing to share.

The fantasy had grown in my mind over the past few weeks, the wonder…what would have happened that morning if Ben hadn’t called a halt? What would it have been like? The gentle touch of his fingers on my heated flesh, the intimate tones of his deep, rumbling voice as I rushed headlong into the maelstrom… the slow drift to earth as we held each other in the afterglow. That was what I wanted from Ben, but that was what I couldn’t have.

What should I say, I wondered frantically, what should I say? And then it came to me.

“Yes.” ------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 6

Lake Mead was like another world.

All around me the weathered cliffs of this flooded chasm along the Colorado River called to me, beckoning to my flickering presence like a voice from time immemorial.

Ben’s impressive sloop lay at anchor in a secluded cove called Bonelli Landing. There, in the shifting blue-green water of the harbor it held court over the seemingly insignificant motor boats that paid it homage. She was beautiful, if that’s the word one uses for such things, easily riding the wake of all who passed to admire and sigh in appreciation.

“Big boat”, I commented inadequately, noting that nothing anywhere as large seemed to be at anchor in the cove. “It must be hard to sail a ship like that in a lake.”

Ben smiled and nodded his head. “It is. It isn’t often that I can hoist the sails and give her a run. I have to use the motor most of the time. But it’s only temporary…just a place to work on her, and enjoy her a little. Pretty soon I’ll be hauling her to San Diego for a real outing.”

“A real outing?” I replied. “Where to…around the world?” I laughed.

Ben grew silent then, as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun. “Actually, yes. We’d been planning this for more than 20 years, for when I retired. Just three more weeks to go, and I’m off.”

The word “we” caught me a little off guard, and I could sense the sorrow inherent in the past tense. Something had gone wrong here, terribly wrong, but I recognized the need for privacy, and so I remained silent.

“She’s beautiful,” I observed, the warm glow of her polished decks and gleaming brass creating a breathtaking focus for the many shutterbugs that tootled alongside in their motorboats. “She’s a real star”.

Ben swelled with pride. “That she is. She’s from another world…another era when things took time and caring…patience and a slow hand. A remnant from bygone days, sort of like me, I guess. We fit.”

The allusion to a “slow hand” brought a flush to my cheeks. Yes, I thought, Ben would have a slow hand, one that took its time and brought out a woman’s inner glow, one that would make her sigh as she quickened beneath him. But a remnant… somehow I doubted that. Ben would be that one great love to which all women aspire, the dream that fills our waking moments and caresses us in the depths of sleep. Like the graceful sloop before me, Ben Gates was a classic.

Quickly, he pulled alongside the dock and began to inflate the rubber Zodiac that would take us out to the sloop. The tiny motor hummed, filling the small conveyance, until in a few moments we were ready to leave. Ben loaded a few plastic sacks of perishables and my small carryall into the front of the inflated craft, and we were off.

The waves lapped gently against my fingers, bringing back memories of other times, other people. Visions of my beloved Amora flickered behind my eyelids, the sights, sounds and silken feel of her as we’d made love beside the sea on our last night together.

“Did you think that passion has a gender?” she’d said to me once. “Who would know better how to please a woman than another woman?” And then she’d opened up another world for me to share.

Our last night together had been glorious. It was for her a soulful parting, and for me, oblivious to what was to come, a crescendo. We had dined on the beach, far from prying eyes. A flaming bonfire had lent her gaze a luminosity that I would never forget.

Reliving the moment, I closed my eyes as I had then, and felt once more her delicate fingertips stroking my body, her lips exploring my willing flesh. She had taught me something new that night, a peculiar configuration that had brought the bursting kernels of our sex into mutual alignment. Then, rocking gently in an intimate “pas de duex” we flowed together until our time neared. It was only then, pulses racing, gasping the thin, curling fragrance of the night, that we had exploded in moist profusion, sharing the proof of our passion beneath the unseeing stars.

Breathlessly we had lain together, and it was then Amora had told me that in the morning I must leave. She’d said that I must spread my wings and find a place in the world that was truly mine, as her beloved hacienda, “El Capitan” was hers. And thus, she’d left me along the shore… the last time I’d ever seen her.

I’d cried that night, unwilling and unable to part from the only pure and unselfish love that I’d ever known, but Amora was right. She’d created a cocoon for herself at El Capitan, and would never leave. I, on the other hand, had finally discovered the strength to find my place in the world, and needed her to nudge me from her nest.

Once more I fingered the tiny silver key that I wore always about my neck, her parting gift to me. I had found it in an envelope above my car visor as I was about to drive through customs the next morning. It was very old, a symbol of adoration and undying loyalty that had survived centuries in the care of her ancestors. With it came her undying vow of love, and the assurance that El Capitan would always be a waiting haven, should ever I find the need.

“If you love something, set it free,” they say…”and if it truly belongs to you, it will return”. Would I return to Amora one day, I wondered. Was she still waiting?

The sudden jarring of the Zodiac alongside the sloop brought me back to the present. “Jennie’s Dream” it read, the name painted in delicate calligraphy along the side. “Jennie” I wondered. Who was Jennie? Had Ben a mysterious past as well?

I turned to him, the question shining in my eyes. “Jennie?” I asked. “Have you been holding out on me?”

He was silent for a moment, as though he’d heard the question even before I’d spoken it…as though he’d been dreading the inevitability of it.

“Jennie”, he replied in softened tones, “Is my wife.”

I was startled! His wife? He hadn’t told me he was married, but then was it such a surprise? A man like Ben would have been too sought after to have come so far without someone special in his life. But where was his Jennie now, I wondered. Would I meet her onboard? Why hadn’t he said anything before?

I cleared my throat and tried to erase the startled expression from my features. “Your wife?” I replied. “Is she onboard? I suppose I should have asked, but I just assumed…”

“I’m a widower,” He continued quickly, as though he couldn’t bear the pain of rehashing it. “I thought you knew. I lost my wife two years ago. This was our big fantasy. We bought ‘Jennie’s Dream’ when she was about to be sold for salvage…restored her to her original glory…then planned to sail her around the world the year I retired. We hadn’t planned on…”

There he stopped, a wall of memories blocking his path. Jenny was gone, but in a way she was still here. You could tell by his gaze that Ben could see her in every polished inch of teak, every shiny gleam of brass. “Jennie’s Dream” had become Jennie herself in the end, and soon they would be heading off to sail the seven seas.

Ben reached up and grabbed the railing, swinging himself effortlessly onto the deck, then reaching behind for my hand. His grip was sure and strong, confident and steady, and I felt safe in his hands.

“Why don’t you look around while I unload?” he asked, then pointed aft towards the hatchway leading below deck. “Make yourself at home. Your cabin is on the left. I’ll show you how to use the ‘head’ as soon as I get there. It’s not difficult, but it’s a little finicky.”

The head, now that was a word I knew from old seafaring movies. I hadn’t thought about the bathroom being different, but that wasn’t surprising.

Slowly I took the softly glowing wooden stairs down into the heart of Jennie, down into the comfortable lounge and galley that dominated the frontal portion of the cabin. Everything had been cleaned and polished with a loving hand, I noticed…everything in its place, immaculate.

I passed along the narrow hall to a series of doors, and opened the one on the left. A small stateroom lay behind, its single bed adorned with a blue and white quilt that matched the ruffled curtains over the brass-bordered porthole. It was perfect…a picture from a dream…Jennie’s Dream.

A little sadly, I dropped my soft-sided suitcase on the floor beside the bed, and began to find places for everything. Ben had said there would be only the two of us on the sloop this weekend, but already I could see the fallacy in his thinking. There would be three, Ben, me…and Jennie. I couldn’t help but wonder…was there room enough?

By the time I’d finished and changed into something more vacation-like, Ben had come aboard and was squaring things away in the galley. Everything had a place, it seemed. Did I?

“So, what’s on the schedule for today?” I asked, stretching until my fingertips tickled the overhead paneling. Ben turned to answer, then paused, his voice momentarily caught in his throat. I’d taken the liberty of changing into something light and airy, white gauze, and abandoned my cumbersome bra. Had he noticed? Apparently he had. There was hope here yet.

Slowly, his eyes roamed down the expanse of my bare legs, encased now only in short cut-offs. Noisily, he cleared his throat.

“Nice outfit.” He commented, a little hesitantly. “Looks comfortable.”

I smiled. “Well, you told me to pack as though I were going to be in my own home, and this is what I usually wear. Is it okay?”

Ben turned quickly away and continued to place items in the cupboards. “Sure,” he replied. “I want you to be comfortable. No sense having a vacation that isn’t, is there?”

I noticed then the sudden disarray that Ben was making out of his pantry, and closed the gap between us. “Let me help?” I offered, sliding next to him and taking a box of Khashi from his hands. “You like this stuff too? I’m crazy about it. I like to eat healthy when I’m not stuffing my face with junk food, to kind of balance things off, you know?”

Then I leaned forward and placed the Khashi next to a box of Cheerios, mentally congratulating myself on my minor coup before I realized that Ben had gone stone still. What was…had I…and then I realized what was wrong. In my eagerness to assist, I was pressing full-length against him, the sway of my unfettered breasts brushing against his chest, the jut of my hip nestled firmly between his…

Oh my! Perhaps Ben gates wasn’t quite as platonically inclined as I’d dreaded. There was hope here yet, if the throbbing pulse against my hip was any indication.

Ben heaved a sigh of discomfort and turned away. “Let’s see if we can find a nice place to drop anchor tonight,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “The lake will probably be crowded this week-end, and the best places are going to vanish fast.” Then, with a familiarity borne of years of repetition, he trotted up the stairs and vanished into the sunlight.

Ben was in a class all his own, I thought…a graduate seminar. But, he was worth it. The next four days would bring us closer and closer together, I hoped, and maybe somewhere along the way we could erase the barriers between us. Time and a slow hand…it would take both. Did I have what he needed?

Ben hauled up the anchor, then turned on the motor. There were far too many boats on the water today to even try to hoist the sails. Soon, we were making our way out of the boat harbor and feeling the clear, brisk air of the lake surrounding us. The light gauze of my blouse ruffled gently against my skin, bringing my nipples into full alert. Was Ben watching, I wondered? Did the sight of my body once again fill him with thoughts of intimate potential?

I stretched out on the deck, curling like a cat in the sunshine. I was brazen, and desperate. Oh, how I wanted him to notice me! What I wouldn’t have given to know that he felt something like the warm, moist response I was holding at bay. [Come, Ben, come,] I thought silently. [Look at me. Touch me. Let’s ‘rock the boat’.]

But he didn’t.

For the next few hours Ben kept himself safely ensconced behind the helm, steering us toward places unknown, until finally he aimed toward a secluded cove that seemed abandoned by one and all.

It was lovely there… no, breathtaking is a better word. “Lovely” would have been wasted on the magnificence of that place. All about us stood towering cliffs, carved by the hand of God through millenniums of formation and upheaval, the tiers of a million years open and vulnerable before us. We were encased in eternity…lost in time. What were a few mortal years in a place like this?

“It’s wonderful!” I breathed slowly, afraid that my mere presence would break the spell. “How did you know…?”

“It’s a favorite of mine,” he answered, satisfied that I was as awe-struck as he’d hoped. “This area is an extension of the Grand Canyon, the lower Colorado River. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

I nodded silently and let my gaze travel along the multicolored layers of nature’s geological time capsule. This place had been here long before the advent of man, and would probably survive us all if we would just leave it alone, I thought. How much had Lake Mead covered from view when Hoover Dam was constructed, I wondered? How many of the ghosts of prehistory lay below us?

Curled as we were between the cliffs of this magnificent place, the sun was early to set, and soon we watched the blazing orb sink below the western horizon in a ball of flames. The deepening shadows cast long fingers across the cliffs, coming to settle against Ben’s desert-kissed flesh, and once more a sense of longing overcame me.

I glanced down at his hand, resting against the deck beside me as we watched the last flickering light of day vanish onward toward places far away. So strong, I thought…so competent. I could curl myself in his palm forever, ride the easy waves of passion that swirled against me until time passed beyond knowing.

Slowly, my breath held captive in my chest, I raised his hand upward and brushed my lips over his palm.

He looked up suddenly, his face a jumble of warring emotions. “Jillian…” he cautioned. “We shouldn’t be doing this. I’m way too old for you. I’m old enough to be your father, for heaven’s sake. It isn’t right.”

I continued to stroke his palm, flicking my tongue in warm, wet circles against his lifeline. “You don’t taste like my father,” I replied hesitantly, my heart pounding loudly in my ears, “and I know that I don’t feel like a daughter to you.”

I nodded, remembering his earlier reaction. “Is this really so wrong? I’ve slept with younger men, men who took and took and rarely gave anything back…men who left me wondering about my own sexuality. Is it so wrong to want something different, someone who might be able to fill me with more than just the passing interface of flesh on flesh?”

I paused, then dove headlong. “You know, somewhere down the line someone sold you a bill of goods and told you that you had to stay twenty-one forever if you wanted to be worth anything. It isn’t true, you know. Look at you! You’re smart, funny and as sexy as hell. Any woman worth a moment’s notice would be lucky beyond belief to wake up every morning next to you. Don’t you know that?"

He paused, as if digesting what I’d had to say, then turned to me, his face masked by the deepening shadows of the night. “You left out something,” he added. “Something important.”

I was puzzled. What had I forgotten? I thought I’d just about covered it all. “What’s that?” I questioned.

He cleared his throat, as if composing his answer. “You left out that I love old movies.” He replied. “And that monologue was a direct lift from one of my favorites.”

He took my hand then. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but you don’t have to. I don’t need it.” He gave my palm a little squeeze. “Jillian, I know who I am. I’ve spent a lifetime becoming someone I could live with, someone I could respect. Yes, I am smart, and I’m funny, if I do say so myself, but no one’s ever sold me a bill of goods on the fiction of youthful perfection. I’ve been there…lived through the insecurities, the loneliness, the fear that I’d never be able to accomplish the things I wanted in life. I’ve earned the right to be fifty-five, Jillian, and frankly, I wouldn’t go back to being twenty-one again if it came with a money-back guarantee. But, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”

Now it was my turn to pause. What was he talking about?

“I get the impression that you think I’m a pair of well worn slippers, an old bathrobe to pull on when the day’s been too much. I’m no toothless old dog, Jillian. I have just as many wants and needs as any other man…and maybe a few that would surprise you…even a few minor kinks,” he laughed.

With that my eyes widened, an uneasy note of fear creeping into my mind.

“No, nothing that serious,” he was hurried to add, noticing my unspoken transformation. “I’m no Mister Hyde. I just wanted to let you know that I have as healthy a sexual appetite as any other man. If you want a toothless , old dog, I can give you my father’s phone number. He’d be glad to drop his teeth into a glass and gum you from head to toe.”

We both laughed at the thought. How like Ben to turn an awkward moment into something so warm and funny. But, at the same time I knew he’d meant it. I’d had fair warning. If I continued, I would do so at my own risk. The very thought made my pulse race.

“I have so much I want to say to you, Ben…so may things that would explain what you see as vulnerability in me, but some things defy words.” I trailed my fingers over the stubble that had begun to blur his jawline. “I never thought you were soft…or toothless,” I laughed huskily, sliding his large, warm hand beneath my gauze blouse. “I just knew you were someone I wanted in my life, someone to share both the sparks and the embers. Touch me, Ben. Make love to me. Please…”

Gently, I caressed the back of his hand, curling his fingers over the rigid peak of my nipple, waiting…waiting…

And then he began to respond, his thumb and forefinger closing slowly, then more eagerly over my pebbled yearning.

“Oh, Jillian,” he whispered. “Last chance to change your mind. I wouldn’t blame you if you…”

I pressed my lips to his. I knew what he was going to say, and I knew it was unnecessary. I wanted this, I wanted him…whatever was to come, I was ready.

Ben lowered his hand, and in his eyes I saw the flames of the setting sun replaced by my own molten image. In one smooth motion he swept my blouse over my head and pressed me full out against the smooth planking of the deck. His fingers stroked me, his lips caressing the smooth hollows of my throat… and I sighed.

My nipples hardened to a dull ache, his hands bringing only momentary relief until finally I felt his lips close over one red berry and suckle its growing thrust. My very skin prickled with longing, goose flesh rising along every inch of me crying out “more…more”.

He lowered his hand past my navel then, past the fluttering expanse of my stomach to the snap at the top of my jeans. In an instant I heard the tell-tale pop, and felt the slow hiss of the zipper as it slid downward toward the soft triangle below.

It was then that Ben kissed me, sliding his tongue between my lips, mimicking the motion of his finger as it slipped into the warm wetness between my thighs. I arched against him, urging him onward, begging for all that he had to give.

And he continued.

Slowly, he stripped the last of my clothing from my hips, leaving me naked in the sliver of moonlight that dared to watch us in this place of solitude.

His jeans were close to bursting by now, or so it seemed, and I ran my fingers over his prominence. Then, rising to my knees, I unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the deck beside my own.

I paused, pressing my body against his, feeling the strong, corded heat of him against me, then motioned for him to stand while I unclasped the buckle of his belt. He swallowed, an audible sound in the stillness that surrounded us as I opened his jeans and slipped them down over his legs to add them to the pile.

He was magnificent! His body had been well cared for, a temple, and I found myself wanting to taste every inch of him. But first…

Slowly I took his burgeoning member between my fingers and stroked its silken length, feeling it tremble in my palms. Then, lowering my head, I pressed my lips to the dewy portal at the tip and sipped the drop of nectar that awaited me. Wonderful!

Ben shivered, and I smiled. No daughter here, I thought. No, not at all. Tonight was made for lovers, and lovers we would be.

Closing my eyes, I took him once more between my lips, tasting the salty essence of him upon my tongue as I kneaded the rounded orbs beneath, milking them until I heard my lover moan with pleasure.

I could feel his fingers twining in my hair, tightening ever so slightly as I drew him deeper and deeper into my mouth. Then, moving almost imperceptibly, he cupped the back of my head and steadied me as he began to surge in and out with rhythmic precision. His pleasure was mine, and mine his.

More and more I tasted the tiny spurts that heralded what I felt was to be a monumental climax. Eagerly I sucked, hungry for his offering but fanaticizing his massive tool plying its way between my legs. I wanted him, oh, how I wanted him!

Suddenly, he stopped, and kneeling he lay me back on the deck. He smiled then, and running his thumb along the glistening slickness of my lips, he turned away and placed his knees to the left and right of my glowing cheeks, his rigid organ mere inches from my eager lips. I sighed. He was in command, my teacher, my lover.

Slowly, he lowered himself atop my naked body, his weight resting lightly upon his elbows and knees. Then, while I trembled beneath him, he parted my quivering thighs, his fingers probing deeply, exploring my inner recesses until they finally homed in on my wet and throbbing clitoris.

It was Ben’s turn now, and parting my nether lips he began to thrust his tongue maddeningly into the wet maw of my dripping sex. I opened my mouth to cry in pleasure, but found my voice muffled as his massive erection pressed between my lips once more. So deep now, I thought, could I fully accommodate him from this angle?

And then I felt his tongue invade my body once more, plunging deeply into my dark passage as his fingers wove their magic…and it no longer mattered. I was lost in a mist of sensuality, a whirl of sexual abandon, and my limitations no longer existed. I was boundless. I could do anything.

Deeper he plunged, his tongue curling and seeking as I gasped in mindless response. My body quaked beneath him, my lips vibrating against his shaft as my cries struggled to be heard. I wanted to cry out, to scream to the hills above that we were one, a coupling as old as eternity. But each time I opened my mouth I found his hot, salty flesh muting my every sound, and I gladly devoured him.

Then it happened. My body tensed my back arching as a wave of pure electricity surged through me, sending my cries to the heavens. Uncontrollably, I gushed against him, a mad profusion of hot, wet fluid that he consumed ravenously while I screamed into the night. Harder he drove, spurred onward by my fits of passion until finally he thrust deep into my throat, drowning my strangled cries with his sweet essence, and leaving us both breathless and panting on the deck beneath the all-seeing stars.

Had Ben said he had a healthy sexual appetite? Of that there was no doubt. I thought of the days to come, there, alone on the water with this incredibly sensual man…and I smiled.

Chapter seven

I awoke in the master bedroom of “Jennie’s Dream”. After our night on the deck, it had seemed silly for me to remain in the guest cabin, and so we’d curled ourselves together in Ben’s big bed, holding each other until the gulls cried for the morning to begin.

He was already up, my lover, and throughout the cabin I could smell the tantalizing aroma of bacon sizzling in the skillet. Smiling, I stretched, wondering what the day would bring.

Would we continue where we’d left off, I wondered hopefully? I felt a slow trickle form between my thighs at the mere thought. Ben was an incredible lover. He knew when to give, and when to take. His years had translated into experience, and I was his grateful recipient. No hurried lover here, no selfish, fleeting dance of light…Ben knew how to compose a symphony between a man and woman that only time and caring could have cultivated. I was fortunate, and I was in love.

Slowly, I crawled out of bed and trotted naked out into the galley. Ben scanned my lack of attire and smiled. “You won’t stay out of bed long dressed like that”, he grinned. “But, it’s an appealing swimsuit. Why don’t you take a dip while I finish up with breakfast?”

I thought for a moment, then decided that the idea had merit and climbed the stairs toward the upper deck. Would others have found our isolated anchorage in the night, I wondered? Somehow I couldn’t bear the thought. This place was ours alone, and I wanted it to remain that way.

Slowly, I scanned the calm surface of the lake, and found no interlopers. Ben had chosen well. We were shielded from view by the towering cliffs that surrounded us…a fiord of our own.

Smiling, I crossed the deck and gazed down into the blue-green depths of the water. So cool, so inviting, it called to me and I couldn’t help but respond. In no time at all I was slicing cleanly through the water, feeling the silken swirl of it along my skin as I dipped and surged along its surface.

And then I heard a splash, muted at first, then louder as it drew near. I turned just as Ben wrapped his arms around my slippery form, his naked body hard and inviting.

Smiling, he wrapped my legs around his waist and buoyed me while he kept the two of us afloat. Already I could feel the hard thrust of him teasing the opening between my legs, and my control began to wither. If we didn’t get back onboard soon…

It was then I felt the rope ladder behind me, the one we used to climb the sides of Jennie’s Dream. Ben’s expression became serious, and stretching my hands above my head he twined them in the rungs of the ladder and told me not to move.

My flesh prickled instantly. What if someone were to enter our hidden cove at that moment, I wondered? I was exposed, naked from the waist up for all to see. What if…

My thoughts were silenced as Ben’s heavy whisper filled my mind. “Open your legs and bring them up over my shoulders, “ he directed breathlessly.

My eyes widened, but I did as I was told. Immediately, I felt the cold, lake water rush into my body, filling my warm cavern with it’s alien presence.

I gasped, and Ben laughed. Then, placing his feet on the bottom run, far below the waterline, he began to rise, bringing my legs upward until my knees pressed against my chest and his erect sex probed the yawning, vulnerable opening of my body. I was his captive, helpless hand and foot, and as he reached his hands behind to steady me I felt him lunge deep inside, filling me as no man had done before.

I gasped, but the sound was lost as he covered my mouth with his own. “I want to watch your face as you cum,” he whispered finally. Then, slowly he began to pump, pinning my body between his own and the rigid side of the boat. With each thrust he filled me with his own heat, partially withdrawing to allow the cold water of the lake to once more rush into my yearning cavern. Hot and cold…in and out until I was ready to explode!

Harder he pressed, his strong hands imprisoning my hips as he lunged over and over again. My fingers grew weak, my hands shaking with the onset of lustful release, and I wanted desperately to let go. But, what would happen? Would he stop? Would we sink into the murky depths of the lake? My hungering body screamed for more…more, and I knew I couldn’t stop now…I couldn’t!

Silently I writhed, my body afire with need until finally, when I could stand it no longer, he reached between us and massaged his finger over my exposed nub. The effect was instantaneous, and I quaked around him. I screamed, oh how I screamed as my body lost control.

Ben watched my face contort with unbridled passion, then, as the echoes began to die I heard him moan. Slowly, he thrust once more…twice, then he closed his eyes and I felt his heat pour deep inside of me. Not cold now, only the hot, milky gush of his climax filled me…warming me to my very bones. I whimpered as I felt him…like coming home. I was his warm haven, and he was mine. Together we could fend off the darkness and the cold beneath us. Together we could do anything.

Breakfast was cold that morning, but the crispy bacon and congealed eggs tasted like manna from heaven. Ben’s boatside tryst had left me tingling, and it seemed now as though everything had a new light to it…a new flavor. Ben was good for me, but I wondered if I could be everything that he needed.

All about the boat were memories of Jennie. The curtains, the dishes, even the sails that still lay furled along the mast were obviously of her choosing. I knew I couldn’t compete…I didn’t want to, but could I follow in her footsteps? Could Ben find some degree of joy with me after so many years with the one true love of his life? The thought both worried and saddened me.

That day we explored the furthest reaches of Lake Mead, following the shoreline, and making occasional dashes along the open waterways when traffic would allow. Ben was in his element, his bronzed face squinting into the sunshine, his lips stretched into a wide grin as the wind curled around us.

Gratefully, we found our small hideaway still empty that night, and we settled down for an evening of good food and better companionship.

Ben cleaned our catch of the day, and I cooked fresh lake trout below in the galley for supper. Then, a pair of margaritas in hand, we settled into a pair of chaise lounges on deck to watch the stars cross the heavens above us.

Memories of Ben, his body and his passion filled my mind, and it was I who finally suggested that we go below to curl up for the night.

Ben smiled, fully aware of my ruse. I wanted him, and he knew it. Satisfied, he brushed his thumb over my nipple and felt it rise into his palm.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, teasingly. “Do you want me to touch you…to feel me inside of you? Is that it?”

Blushing, I nodded. Never had I wanted a man as much as I wanted Ben Gates. I’d existed in a permanent state of moist semi-arousal the whole day long, waiting for just this moment, a time when we could once again be together in the velvet solitude of night. But, was it what Ben wanted?

“Take off your clothes,” he whispered in the pale hush of the night. “I want to watch as you bare yourself in the moonlight. I want to see how ready you are…”

I blushed again, a gesture lost in the dusky night. How many times had Ben seen me naked? How many? But, to stand before him and slowly take off my clothing one by one, exposing myself before him here on the deck seemed more than I could manage.

“I…I…”

“Can’t?” he finished, smiling. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it…you’re just so beautiful, so natural, I wanted to watch the façades of civilization drop from your body.”

I paused then. “Beautiful” He’d called me beautiful. A warm flush crept through me, and I knew then that I could deny this man nothing. Slowly, I circled toward the side of his chaise and began to unbutton my blouse. One by one the buttons fell away, exposing the brown thrust of my breasts until I coaxed the two halves apart and lay bare my turgid nipples for his perusal. Then, shrugging, I felt it slip down my back and onto the deck at my heels.

Ben’s hand began to stroke my inner thigh, and trailing upward he slipped his fingers beneath the cuff of my shorts and probed the wetness beyond.

“You’re so wet,” he said softly. Then, withdrawing his finger he sucked it between his lips, licking until I felt yet another gush between my thighs.

Eagerly, I unzipped my shorts, and dropped them to the deck, my urgency throbbing deep inside of me. I couldn’t wait for the long voyage to the master bedroom…I couldn’t. Suddenly, even my fragile thong seemed more than l could bear, and in one hurried tug I tore it from me.

“Oh…please, Ben. Don’t make me wait,” I pleaded softly. And he didn’t.

Raising his hips, he slid his shorts down over his legs and dropped them to the deck. His shirt followed, and soon he was as naked as I.

“Right here, Jillian,” he directed, and I hurried to obey. Quickly, I spread my legs and straddled his body, my fingers stroking his velvet pole as I began to lower myself upon it.

“No…not yet, Jillian,” he directed sternly. “Up here…over my face,” he ordered.

I stroked him once more, hoping for a reprieve…hoping that I would feel him cleaving my body with his massive presence, but he held fast. Then, guiding my hips with his two strong hands, he positioned me above his lips and began to sip the sweet flow that he had created.

I wriggled…I moaned. How much could I take? Ben knew what to do…where to touch…how much to give and how much to take. I whimpered above him, a constantly stream bubbling between my nether lips as I pleaded for release.

Then, be slithered his tongue along the quivering surface of my clit, and I lost all reservation. He was insatiable. Eagerly he drank, wasting nothing, sucking until I felt my very soul drain from my body into his waiting mouth.

Then I felt it, his right hand, once poised along my hip, but now probing the long crevasse along my backside. What did he have in mind…what…

And then I knew. As wave after wave of gushing ecstasy washed over me, I felt his finger penetrate my narrower passage. I squirmed, impaled upon his thick digit as I lost myself in the night.

Glimpses of my time with Scott flashed through my mind, but this was different, so different. Somehow the solid warmth of his finger felt right…filling me, satisfying my inner cravings in a way that nothing else had. I had asked for an appetizer, and been given a feast.

Ben watched my face as he continued to probe, gauging my reaction, judging how much I could take. Then, when he felt the time was right he lay me down on the deck, bent forward over a bundled sail bag as he positioned himself behind my splayed thighs.

I shivered. Could I do this? Would Ben stop if I wanted him to? I needn’t have worried. Ben was not Scott. Of course he’d stop. Ben would never force himself on me, or on anyone. I was safe in his hands…as safe as I wanted to be.

Gently, Ben pressed against my body, his hands reaching around my torso and rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. I felt his warm breath against my back, his silken sighs enveloping me.

“I want you to tell me if I do anything that you don’t want,” he rumbled deeply. “I want you to enjoy this too…”

I felt his hands begin to stroke my body, sliding slowly along my skin with seductive ease until I quivered with anticipation.

“Oh, Jillian,” he breathed, his fingers stroking between my thighs. “You’re so beautiful, so sensual. Relax, Jillian…relax and let me take care of everything”.

Slowly he caressed the wet slit between my thighs, his hands evoking a breathless response that brought me to the very edge and beyond. Then, sharing the wetness along my nether furrow he began to ease his finger once more into my tight, resistant orifice.

I gasped, struggling with myself at first, then gradually relaxing my body as I warmed to his touch. This was so different…so sensuous. It was hard to believe that this was the same act that Scott had forced upon me.

Slowly, Ben stretched my diminutive opening with his fingers, preparing the way as he stroked my clit and listened to my whimpers of passion. Finally, as I felt myself melt once again into his hand, he began to press his thick, heavy knob against my narrow portal, easing it inward until I felt as though I would be torn apart.

“More, Jillian…more?” he asked, panting. “Tell me…do you want this?”

I paused for but a second. This coupling was painful, but in a way I’d never experienced before. I should want him to stop, I thought…I should be begging for him to stop…but I wasn’t. Instead I wanted all of the sweet, primal pain he could offer, all of the erotic sensation that shot like lightning through my body.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Please, Ben…don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. In one hardened thrust he pressed inside of me, pumping the throbbing head of his sex deep into my body as I strained to relax beneath him. Stroking my hips he paused, waiting for my body to accept his massive invasion, and then he began to move.

Slowly at first, and then with a deep, pounding rhythm he filled me over and over. My nails dug into the sail bag, grasping spasmodically with each new advance until I felt there could be no more.

His right hand now began a rhythm of its own, but it had another agenda. “Cum for me, Jillian,” he murmured though tightened lips, his fingers stroking deeply inside my dripping mound. “Let me hear you come.”

Silently, I bit my lower lip, the end so close…so close. Mewling sounds escaped into the night air. Was that me? Did those bestial sounds come from my lips? Had I lost all touch with…

And then I came unraveled. All thoughts of civilization flew from my mind as I rutted into his palm, urging him to complete me in every way possible.

Ben held tight, his forceful strokes now battering deep inside of me, pummeling me until with a loud groan I felt his release flood my inner being, gushing in mad profusion down my thighs and onto the deck.

Then, with exhaustion so total that even words failed us, he dropped beside me on the deck and wrapped his arms around me. How long we lay like that, I have no idea, but eventually we slipped over the side and washed ourselves in the cool waters of the lake before trailing once more below deck to curl deep into Ben's welcoming bed.

Our vacation was half over now, I thought as I drifted off to sleep. How would I survive without him once we were back in Tempe? How could I watch dispassionately as he stood before me in class and taught a room full of coeds about mathematical statistics. Who would fill my aching arms as I curled alone in my bed longing for our nights of passion aboard Jennie’s Dream?

Who? ________________________________________________Chapter eight

The next day flew by in a haze of sensuous indulgence. We kept to ourselves that day, alone in the solace of our fiord, far from the prying eyes of the world beyond. Every thought, every turn propelled us once more below decks to enjoy the intimacies we had come to know so well. And then it was all over.

The sun dawned on our last day, and it was time to return Jennie’s Dream to her mooring and make our way back to the hot, bustling streets of Tempe. We spoke very little that morning, each lost in our own silent farewell to a time that had meant so much to both of us.

The next few weeks flew by with a speed unknown to man, and in no time at all the class was parting from the last session. Ben and I had spent much of those intervening evenings at my apartment, touching, holding and making love as though each day was our last. Finally, we had to face the unspoken truth. In a few days he would be leaving, and I would be staying here. Our dance had come to an end. It was time to say “good-bye”.

We made long, sweet love that last night, each movement a memory in the making as the clock ticked its incessant parade toward the end.

And then he was gone.

I buried my face in his pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of him as I cried in the solitary gloom of my bedroom. Life was a cruel master, I thought, to offer so much and then snatch it all away. How could I go on?

The next weeks were a haze of tears and shuttered windows. The gentle breezes of summer gave way to the turbulent gales of the monsoon season, and the very heavens joined in my sorrow. Gutters ran heavy with the overflow of a thousand teardrops, and still it was not enough.

Then, exactly two weeks later the phone rang. It was Ben! Our time apart had been as hard on him as it had been on me, and he wanted me to join him in San Diego aboard Jennie’s Dream for his trip into the unknown!

Eagerly I packed my few meager belongings and called my landlord to sublet my apartment…and then I was on my way.

Ben met my plane at the airport. He looked different somehow, as though he’d lost weight and needed sleep. I could tell by his expression that he thought the same about me, but it was all so inconsequential now that I put it aside.

It was a tearful reunion, filled with the promise of endless tomorrows. If I had missed him before, it paled now compared to the extent of my joy at seeing him once more. He had wanted me by his side, he had wanted me in his arms…he had wanted me.

So overwhelming was my happiness at seeing him once again, that I failed to see the shadows behind his eyes, the wrinkles that had replaced the laugh lines at the corners of his lips. If the chill of an ill wind lay on the horizon, I was happy to ignore it. All I wanted for now was a lifetime with Ben aboard Jennie’s Dream. Beyond that, nothing else mattered.

Slowly he wended his way through the beautiful streets of San Diego in his rental car until the harbor burst before my gaze. It was magnificent! And there, queen of all she surveyed sat Jennie’s Dream, riding easily at anchor, brightly and eagerly awaiting her grand adventure.

Ben’s rubber Zodiac sat tied up at the dock, and soon we were on our way. Within minutes we had pulled alongside her sleek, polished sides and Ben was tossing my suitcases up and over the railing onto her deck.

“We have a couple of days before we can leave,” he said. “There’s a part I need that’s being Fed Ex’ed from New York, and then we’re off. Until then I thought it might be nice to check out the sights around San Diego.”

I nodded a quick assent, but what I really wanted was already onboard. I was with Ben once more. What could compare to that?

San Diego is a tourist’s paradise, and we took full advantage of our surroundings. The gentle sea breezes and temperate climate all wove together to form a delightful tapestry that should have left me with nothing but hope and happiness. So why was this tiny dark cloud perpetually hovering on the horizon?

Ben had seemed a trifle distant during those days, but then he had a lot on his mind. Getting Jenny’s Dream squared away was a Herculean task, and I wasn’t much help. What I knew about preparing for a lengthy sea voyage you could have written on the back of a postage stamp.

Our last day in port was filled with shopping for last minute perishables and fine tuning the last of the many odds and ends that our initial run to Hawaii would entail.

And then it was all finished. One more night in San Diego, and we would begin our new lives together.

We sat on the deck that last night, listening to the sounds of the waves lapping against the sides, and watching the lights along the harbor. Music drifted across the water from a houseboat tied a short distance away, and we sat back and let it waft over us. Tonight we would say farewell to the mainland, and dream of a thousand tomorrows beneath the stars.

One by one the lights along the wharf vanished, until finally only the bare essentials remained. Smiling, I squeezed Ben’s hand and made my way below deck to get ready for bed.

“I’ll be down in a little bit, Jennie,” Ben said.

I froze. “Jennie?” Ben had called me “Jennie”. I chewed my lower lip. Jennie had meant everything to Ben. They’d had thirty years together. It was only reasonable that he would have a momentarily lapse, particularly when he was so tired. It was nothing, I told myself…nothing.

Chasing the demons from my mind, I went below and undressed, listening for Ben’s footsteps on the deck above. Time passed, but only silence held rein on Jennie’s Dream. Finally, my concern overcame me and I made my way silently up the stairs from the galley to see what was keeping Ben.

Quietly, I peered into the darkness. At first Ben seemed to be sleeping, sitting as he had been before in the lounge chair by the anchor chain. But then, as I watched unseen from the hatchway, he began to move.

I saw then that not everything was as I’d left it, for in his hands Ben held his wallet, open now to the photo insert that held so many memories.

“It should have been you…” he whispered so faintly that I thought my imagination must be playing tricks on me. Then, closing the wallet once more, he tucked it into his front pocket and prepared to rise from his seat.

Quickly, I hurried down the stairs and skittered back to bed, hoping beyond hope that what I thought I’d heard had been merely a passing breeze that had played with my senses. In moments, Ben appeared in the doorway, his face overshadowed by something unspoken. He slowly turned out the light, then slipped beneath the covers, molding his body against the contours of my own.

I sighed as I felt his hands begin their sensuous journey over my flesh, stroking and kneading my aching breasts until the nipples stood erect and hard beneath his touch and a tight coil of passion began to fill my belly.

Smiling in the ebony darkness, I turned to him then and pressed my body against his, taking his heat and making it my own. How lucky I was to be a part of his life. How lucky I was that he was mine…

Gently I pressed him back upon the downy pillows and sealed his lips with mine, twining our tongues until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Then, I made my way down his body, licking here, savoring there until I found myself kneeling between his thighs, his throbbing sex cradled in my palms.

“Let me make love to you,” I whispered as I placed the tip between my lips. “Let me make this night a memory.”

And so I took him deep into my throat, tasting the salty tang of his essence as it seeped against my wandering tongue. Advancing and retreating, over and over he slid between my lips, the sound of his sighs becoming ragged in the silence of the night.

His velvet rod seemed to have a life of its own now, quivering beep in my throat as I caressed the rounded orbs beneath with my fingertips. Harder he grew, harder and hungrier as I drew him forth, milking the early fluid from his body and into the wet heat of my mouth.

He curled his fingers in my hair then, holding me as he arched his back and began to thrust urgently into the molten heat that hid behind my lips. He was close…so close…

How I longed to straddle his body and feel his massive pillar cleave my wet and waiting core, running slick between my thighs even now. How I wanted to feel him deep in my body. But this time was for Ben, I reminded myself…this was my gift.

His grip on my hair was almost painful now, his groans filling the room as he plunged deep into my throat. Then, in one fluid motion he called to me, and laying me prone on the bedding he penetrated deep into my eager body, cleaving my wet folds and pummeling the very limits of my being.

I felt him then, rushing of monumental proportions as he filled me, trembling and overflowing with his seed, spilling from my heated cavern and onto the sheets, flowing as though life itself were in the balance.

Finally, heart pounding, he gathered me into his arms and held me fast as I stared into the darkness. How could he know what I was thinking…what I was feeling there in the lightless silence of the room? How could he know that moist, scalding tears filled the corners of my eyes, running in salty rivulets into my hairline? How could he know that the name he’d called as he’d slipped into the whirling labyrinth of passion…

…had been “Jennie?”

Chapter 9

I lay awake that night, listening to the silence stretch on into morning, wondering what course to take. I knew now that Jennie was still with Ben, that this trip was meant for them…and not for me.

How had Amora let me go when it tore at her heart so terribly? How could I do the same for Ben? Did I have her strength?

“If you love someone, set them free,” she’d said…”and if they were truly yours, they’ll return.” But would Ben come back? If I let him go, would I lose him forever?

I thought again of how much I loved him, and how much his happiness meant to me. I thought of the years he and Jennie had planned this voyage of discovery for just the two of them…and then it came to me.

Jennie was here, onboard this boat almost as surely as she had been the long years through. She was here in the lovingly polished woods, the gleaming brassware…the gaily colored sails. This was Ben’s last hold on his lost love. This was always meant to be a voyage for two…and I had placed myself where I didn’t belong.

I had to let him go.

By the time Ben woke I was already on deck waiting for him, my bags packed and sitting patiently in the Zodiac. I’d planned what I wanted to say, telling him that I’d had second thoughts, that I needed to stay and finish my degree…but it wasn’t necessary. One look at my face and he knew.

Silently he rowed me to shore, placing my belongings on the dock as though in a dream. The sadness in his eyes spoke volumes as he held me one last time, far more eloquently than words ever could.

“I won’t forget you, Ben Gates,” I whispered, holding myself together by the thinnest of threads.

Ben nodded, and kissed me good-bye, a look of both sorrow and gratitude on his face. Then, turning, he stepped back into the Zodiac and began to row, growing smaller with each stroke until he faded into the seascape and was swallowed up by the churning harbor traffic.

I don’t know how long I sat there, watching as Jennie’s Dream made her way out of the harbor, but finally a taxi pulled alongside the wharf and asked if I needed a ride.

Silently, I nodded, and he loaded my luggage into the trunk and began to pull away from the curb.

“Where to, Lady?” he asked as he checked for an opening in traffic.

I looked at him, puzzled that I had no answer. And then I felt it, Amora’s key, laying warm and secure about my throat.

“You’ll always have a home here,” she’d said. And so I did.

“Take me to the airport, please,” I said with a sigh.

Already I could feel the warm sand between my toes, and Amora’s golden smile.

I was going home.

The End