Georgia-Better Known as Heaven
Chapter 3

Being kissed awake is good anytime.  Begin kissed awake by Kiefer the next morning 
was exquisite.  I was not jolted awake.  I was simply suddenly aware of the warm breath 
near the top of my head.  Slowly, his lips brushed my hair, ear, neck, shoulder, forearm, 
and then, even more slowly, traced the now tingling path back up to my cheek.  This lazy 
traveling up and down of those lips against my skin should have had me shaking 
uncontrollably, but I found myself calm instead.  Why not be calm?  Enjoy this?  I'm 
either dreaming or, if it's real, it'll probably never happen again.

I don't know how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks this heavenly assault 
continued, but my body's response was to flush with heat and go limp.  Kiefer's body 
smelled of some maddening male musk-some divine, or diabolic, pheromone to drive 
me to distraction.  My nostrils sucked up the precious scent.  My eyes finally flickered 
open when the lips stopped at my cheek and pulled away.  So close.  So close.  His face 
so near to mine.  His breath was warm and smelled faintly of tobacco.  Finally I thrilled 
to hear Kiefer's growl in my ear.  It was bliss.

"Good morning," came the growl.

"Good morning, to you, " came my near breathless response.  My body found life again.  
I squirmed.  His face was near enough to my eyes that I could almost count the individual 
facial hairs comprising the captivating stubble.  The stubble had lent itself to the 
sensations that had accompanied the voyage of his lips up and down my body only 
moments before.

Kiefer's upper body rested on his bent right forearm and he smiled down at me from this 
position, a half-mocking grin on his face.  The hair was slightly mussed.  The eyes 
sparkled with mischievousness.  I marveled to see them so close to my own. 

"God, I thought you'd neh-ver," he emphasized the word, "wake up!"  His left hand went 
to my hair on the pillow, twisting a bit of it around his fingers.  "I thought I was gonna 
hafta dial 9-1-1," he softly chuckled.

The husky whisper had my stomach in knots, my insides quaking.  He could easily have 
been delivering the NASDAQ report and I'd have known no difference.  One hand 
twisting my hair, the other extending from his bent elbow resting on my arm, I struggled 
to make clear to myself that I was really here.  That he was really here.

The raspy voice continued in my ear.

"Sleep well," came his query.

Ummmm, I thought to myself.  Heaven.

"Very well," I whispered.  Pause.  "Very, very well."

"Ahh," he whispered back.  "Very well, eh?"  He winked at me as he uttered the word 
"eh."

"Uh huh."  I smiled up at the face lit with animation as I nodded my head up and down.

A tap at the door.  My first thought was that somehow Shirley had divined Kiefer's 
presence and was here to haul him out and back to the big house, so to speak.  Busted.  
Damn.  Every fiber of my body tensed in anticipation.

Kiefer must have suspected what I was thinking as he read my body.  He began to 
chuckle again, shaking his head.

"No, no.  It's Del.  He's bringing coffee and something . . . dunno what."

As he finished the explanation, Kiefer had already backed out of the bed, rounded the end 
of it, and crossed the room halfway.  My eyes were glued to his buttocks, the smooth 
snow-white fabric hugging the form tightly.  I leaned up on one elbow in order to get a 
better view.  I envied that underwear.  

I also missed that warm body.  The air conditioning vent was pumping out cold air-its 
response to the humidity-a humidity high enough that I was frightened about what my 
hair might look like at this point.  Any moisture in the air and the straight, polished look 
was gone within seconds.  I sat up fully, reaching up and smoothing the palms of my 
hand over my hair in an attempt to tame it.

It suddenly occurred to me that indeed I had been sleeping well since I had no 
recollection of Kiefer calling anyone.  I wondered how long he'd been awake as I 
watched him glide across the room.  What had he been doing while awake?  Watching 
me?  Oh.  Was that possible?  Desirable?

As my eyes remained on him, Kiefer reached for the door's bolt and slid it free, opened 
the door, and ushered Del in with a "good morning."  Del rolled in a cart laden with 
silver-domed dishes and Kiefer closed the door behind.  He and Kiefer spoke softly for a 
moment, then I heard Kiefer clearly extend his thanks as he re-opened the door.  I envied 
Del for hearing distinctly the words that Kiefer uttered to him.  I was consumed with a 
jealousy over the voice.  I wanted to swallow each and every captivatingly raspy word, 
chew them, digest them, assimilate them into my being.  I wanted that voice near my ears 
again.  Del briefly glanced my way before silently retreating from the room.  Kiefer re-
engaged the bolt on the door and turned, the cart before him. 

Now emerged from the toasty bedcover from the waist up, the cold air was also enough 
to make my nipples stand up and salute.  I would be less than honest, though, if I failed to 
admit that the cold air was only half the stimulus.  The thin fabric of the t-shirt could not 
hide their condition.  My gaze rested on Kiefer's face.  I watched as he grasped the 
handle and raised his head to push the cart to the bed. 

The movement of the cart abruptly ceased.  Kiefer blinked and looked at me for a full two 
or three seconds before a sly grin appeared on his face and he asked a question.

"You cold?"  The eyebrow went up.

"Well, yeah.  How did . . . ?"  I stuttered.

Then I realized the erect nipples had told the story clearly.  Kiefer swiftly maneuvered 
around the cart and jumped into the bed, facing me this time, lying on the side of the bed 
I'd been on all night.

"Wanna come over here and get warm?" he rumbled.  The eyelids lowered halfway. 

I didn't answer.  I suddenly felt indescribably sweet.  Well, that's not right.  I didn't feel 
sweet-the moment felt sweet.  Kiefer smiled at me, a lopsided smile, then his eyes 
widened and the brows went up again.

"You don't wanna be warm?" he asked softly, teasingly.

I knew I had to, should, speak.  But I still couldn't find the words.  I'd slept so well.  I'd 
been awakened with sweet kisses.  I didn't feel like talking.  My response, finally, was to 
smile back, as engagingly as I could, as I scooted the short distance across the bed.  As I 
moved towards him, Kiefer's arms managed to wrap around me, one under my neck and 
one over my waist.  Each of us on our side, facing one another, I simply stared into his 
face, my hands finding the right places.  My right hand went under his cheek that rested 
on the pillow, my left went to his chest and softly rubbed his skin.

Kiefer's smile widened.

"Should I rub your chest as well?  That seems to be where you're the coldest."  The grin 
was evil now.

Kiefer's personal smell radiated from his body-those pheromones again-calling me as 
the Sirens had tempted Odysseus.  His scent filled me, making me lightheaded.  But 
unlike Odysseus, I was unbound-my hands free to roam.  I grabbed his chest hair and 
tugged in protest to his comment about my own.

"Ouch," he exclaimed softly, reaching the hand that had been resting on my back around 
to rub the spot where I'd pulled the curly chest hair.  "That huh-urt!"

His lips pouted in mock-pain.  I couldn't resist them.  Resistance was futile.  I inclined 
my head forward and up, making my lips reach his and softly brush against them.  His 
response was to rub his nose against mine, making slow circles with the tip of his on the 
bridge of mine.  His head came to rest with his forehead on mine.  The contact between 
our foreheads struck a warmth deep within me.

When Kiefer's head nestled again into the pillow, his right hand went to the side of my 
head.  The fingers rested lengthwise above my ear from my hairline back.  The thumb 
made slow circles on my temple as if to soothe me.  I didn't, however, know if I wanted 
to be soothed or the opposite.  The fingers of my left hand languidly traced figure-eights 
on Kiefer's back.  We were silent, enjoying each other's touch.  Finally, Kiefer spoke as 
he pulled back and turned away, positioning himself on the edge of the bed.

"Let's see what Del's brought."  A pause before he continued.  "Coffee?" Kiefer asked as 
he turned his head back to look at me.

Again, I elevated my upper body by resting on my elbow and forearm.

"Umm.  Yes.  Black, please."  

I watched as he poured coffee into two cups.  Simply watching his fluid movements sent 
an unbidden electric current down my spine.  He then swung his legs back up onto the 
bed and pulled the cart to the edge.  Arranging pillow and body to lean against the padded 
headboard, he reached over to the cart, cradled one cup and saucer, and passed them to 
me carefully.  I scrambled to a similar sitting position, careful not to move the bed 
unduly, and accepted the offering.

As I settled against the headboard, I stared straight ahead and slowly sipped the hot 
coffee.  It was good and welcome.  I could see Kiefer following suit via my peripheral 
vision.  We silently sipped until the cups were emptied.  I turned to lean over Kiefer and 
replace my cup and saucer on the tray.  Moving to return to my position, Kiefer's left 
hand caught me around the waist as his right moved to replace his cup and saucer.

Kiefer's hand on my waist was more than a light touch.  It was insistent-again the 
Sirens' call.  I moved and lifted my left leg, placing it down on his right side, in order to 
straddle Kiefer's body as he pulled me to him.  The heat spread feverishly from the 
places where our skin touched-my inner thighs on his outer, my hands now--palms 
down--on his chest and his hands on top of mine.  I'd kept my weight on my knees, but 
now settled back on my behind, resting it somewhere around Kiefer's knees.  I wriggled 
my bottom into a comfortable position, not to be provocative, but simply because I felt 
comfortable in doing so.

We looked at one another in silence.  Considering the circumstances, I was quite at ease.  
I felt none of the anxiety, none of the angst, one sometimes feels when about to be 
intimate with someone for the first time.  That's not to say there wasn't excitement-oh, 
there was-but it's safe to say that negative apprehension was nonexistent.  Kiefer's eyes 
smiled at me.  He looked so fresh, so engaging.  And still, his scent filled, crowded, my 
olfactory system, obliterating even the smell of food I knew was wafting from the nearby 
cart.  Kiefer's hands scooped up mine and brought them to his lips where he kissed the 
backs of them alternately, repeatedly, softly.

I leaned down nearer to his face, my hands pulled away from his and rested on his chest, 
my breathing more labored as I anticipated what might come next.  I wanted to speak, but 
didn't know whether it was the right thing to do.  I determined perhaps it was best to let 
my lips, literally, speak for me.  I allowed them to lightly brush his forehead, his ears, his 
cheeks, his eyelids, and, finally, the tip of his nose.  I continued to hold my face near his, 
our heated breath mingling in the small space separating our lips.

Kiefer's hands had come to rest on my waist as I'd kissed his face.  They now moved 
lower, slowly, his hands cupping my buttocks, his fingers burrowing into the skin and 
pulling me more tightly to him.  Surely the fabric of my panties had disintegrated, 
disappeared with his touch.  I held my breath for what seemed moments, but was only a 
second or two.  Then I pulled up, gauging the expression on Kiefer's face.  I did not wish 
to destroy the magical spell I felt filled the room and hovered over the bed.  I took a deep 
breath and whispered clearly but softly.

"We said we'd know when the time was right."  I stopped, continued studying Kiefer's 
face for signs of direction.  I saw emotions, but could not read them.  I continued.  "Is it 
now?  The time?"

I stopped breathing.  I was both afraid to hear and not to hear the response.

Kiefer did not smile.  He did not frown.  He simply blinked his eyes and nodded a yes.  
I'm unsure how long we were silent, how long we were still.  Finally, the charged air 
palpable, Kiefer spoke.  His voice was husky with desire, his breath warm and inviting.

"It's time," he nodded again.  "At least . . . time for me."  Kiefer's head tilted slightly as 
he looked at me questioningly.  "You?"  His inflection and tone rendered the one word 
more important than would seem possible.

I shook my head affirmatively.  I wanted to move ahead, but didn't know whether to 
proceed slowly or to forge boldly forward.  Perhaps I should just ask.  Don't want this 
first time to set the wrong mood, the wrong precedent.

"Slow?" I asked tentatively.  Kiefer looked questioningly at me, so I continued.  "I mean, 
should we take this slow?"  I paused again, struggling, in my near-uncontained 
excitement, to make my meaning clear.  "Take a shower, a bath?"  I paused again, staring 
into Kiefer's eyes.

What I saw there didn't communicate patience for a shower.  He visibly swallowed and 
then said in a soft voice, a voice that did not match the hardness beneath me.

"Uh uh.  Not now.  Don't think I could last that long."  His eyes scorched my face as he 
slowly blinked.  I could feel the heat as he, now, struggled to communicate.  He 
continued.  "Quick now."  Then he added, "Slow burn later."

It's difficult for me to explain what the words "slow burn" communicated to me-to my 
body, my brain.  Or perhaps those words shot straight into my soul.  Slow burn.  Was that 
not what I was now feeling as he spoke those words?  Could I burn anymore without 
igniting?

Without warning, Kiefer sat up and somehow I was lifted up, turned around, and placed 
onto my back.  The move was seemingly instantaneous.  I was there underneath him 
within the blinking of an eye.  His right inner thigh rested over the top of mine.  He 
exerted enough pressure to signal that he wanted me to know, to feel, his strength.  But 
the pressure was not enough to hurt.  His right hand clasped the left side of my neck, 
again, firmly, but not as to cause pain.  What followed was a string of dizzying, hot 
kisses.  Hard and insistent.  Our hands flew from spot to spot. I found myself moving my 
touch from Kiefer's head to as low on his thighs as my arms would allow.  All parts in 
between were fair game.

Moments after the kissing began, Kiefer rolled fully onto me, his body clamping down on 
mine, hot and hard.  He was more muscular than I'd imagined.  It was amazing how 
ponderous his light body felt on mine.  It's not easy to put in plain words.  It was not his 
weight that held me fast.  It was his being.  It pressed me down and into the bed's plush 
mattress.  My hands went instinctively to Kiefer's buttocks and I began to knead them 
with deep intensity, a move immediately rewarded with his body thrusting into mine.  
This could have lasted forever-I wouldn't have minded-but all movement 
unceremoniously ceased. 

Kiefer sat up on his knees.  His hands reached slowly to the bottom edge of my t-shirt.  
His eyes locked on mine, again with neither smile nor frown, and he stared deeply as he 
slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pulled the garment up.  The edge finally rested just above 
my breasts.  Kiefer's eyes remained steadily fixed to my own.  Quickly, his glance rested 
on my breasts.  Then his eyes fastened onto mine again.

Before I knew what was happening, my palms still on Kiefer's buttocks, his hot mouth 
found my left breast.  His left hand found my right one.  His hand, his mouth, were 
lightning strikes burning my body.  I was even more breathless than before.  I'd not 
anticipated the jolt I felt with his touch.  The searing.  My palms moved up Kiefer's back 
to his neck and the back of his head.  I held his mouth close to my breast, pressing his 
head more tightly to me in an attempt to get him to suckle me more intently.  As if by 
telepathy, not only his mouth became more insistent but his fingers as well.  

I discovered Kiefer's hands slipping under my shoulder blades.  He pulled me up, into a 
sitting position, and continued the upward pull of my t-shirt until it came up and over my 
head and then it disappeared.  Good.  Nothing, please, I thought.  Nothing between us.

Kiefer's eyes smoldered, never leaving my own as he pushed me back down onto the 
bed.  Kiefer moved down, straddled my knees.  His fingertips curled between the thin 
elastic at the top of my panties and my now overly-sensitive skin.  As his fingers touched 
me, I imagined my skin rising to meet them, he so slowly, so maddeningly, lowered the 
fabric to near above my knees.  His head bent, and his mouth, lips, seared my skin as he 
planted kisses on my soft, pliant belly.  Shifting his right leg back over my body and 
away, Kiefer's fingertips continued to roll the tuft of fabric down my legs.  Down, down, 
down.  Down my shins, down over the ankles, down, up, and out over the feet.  This 
swatch of fabric, too, landed who knows where.  Near the t-shirt.  Not.  It made no 
difference.

The most striking thing about the removal of my underwear was that we never broke eye 
contact, and, still connected via this visual bond, Kiefer's palms moved purposefully 
down my upper thighs, back up my outer thighs, and down again.  I squirmed, shuddered 
almost, as Kiefer's hand rested between my parted thighs and he slowly thrust two 
fingers deep inside me, our eyes still engaged.  It was intensely personal.  The eyes, it 
seems, are truly windows to the soul.  Few men have ever maintained the amount of eye 
contact with me during sex as did Kiefer, and none had matched the sheer intensity of his 
gaze.

My mind was in no shape to focus, to form any plan.  I was only acutely aware that I 
wanted to make him feel as he was now making me feel.  I was working on instinct, and 
my instinct was to get his underwear down.  To bury my head between his thighs.  I 
suddenly wanted nothing more than to burrow my head there, perhaps clamped between 
those powerful thighs at which I now glanced.  But Kiefer's thumb had made its way 
upward and caressed my now-swollen and sensitive clit.  I wanted to pull him on me, into 
me, and I wanted to taste him at the same time.

I grabbed Kiefer by the shoulders, too excited, too impatient to fully enjoy his hand 
between my thighs.  His left hand had moved under my waist, raising me ever so slightly 
upward.  His right knee moved inside my legs and he used it to push my left leg out, 
allowing him better access with his fingers and thumb.  I could not hold back.  I wanted 
to prolong the build up, prolong the frenzy, but the sensations created in me by his 
manipulation coupled with his frank and earnest stare had me over the edge before I 
knew it.

It was one of those orgasms that leaves its marks.  Slowly, snail-like, my body rumbled, 
shuddered, shook as my inner muscles contracted, groping, searching, for what I knew 
was within reach.  I was aware that tears had sprung to my eyes, but they were from the 
intensity of the moment, mine and Kiefer's eyes still on one another as he witnessed my 
utter vulnerability to his touch.  My insides ached to be filled, sated with his stroke.  My 
arms, during the orgasm flailing all around, now settled once again on Kiefer's shoulders.  
I pushed him over rather roughly in my haste to taste and feel him, not extending to him 
the same consideration and patience he'd shown me.  I was too anxious.  Too eager.  I 
grasped the waistband of the underwear and pulled the white cotton fabric over and down 
the hard-on nestled within.  I remain unaware of how the briefs were fully removed.  
Later in the morning, I found them on the floor near the foot of the bed.

I pushed Kiefer's legs apart, knees bent, not relinquishing my hold on his thighs.  My 
head went between his legs, moving slowly side-to-side as I felt the warmth of his body, 
the hardness, smelled the smell.  Then I lifted my head, my face only inches from the 
thoroughly masculine appendage I knew I would soon feel deep inside, and my eyes 
clamped once again on the clear blue-green ones peering down at mine.  I curbed my 
desire to feel him in my mouth and began to softly lick Kiefer's inner thighs, switching 
from left to right.  I was rewarded with both verbal and kinesthetic response.  Kiefer's 
moans made my own body shiver, and his body ever so slightly pushed upward with each 
lap of my heated tongue.

I could contain myself no longer.  Kiefer's hands resting on my head, I slightly shifted 
position and trapped his cock between my cheek and his belly.  I hesitated to move-the 
moment felt so exquisite.  But I did move at last and encircled his cock with my right 
palm.  My lips caressed the head, the tip of my tongue parted the tiny fissure at the tip of 
his cock.  I savored his taste, his smell.  The smooth hardness beckoned me, and I held 
Kiefer's cock up and still as I caressed my right cheek with its throbbing underside, 
gently sliding my head up and down.  As I turned my head to resume the lapping of my 
tongue, Kiefer's hands left my head and came to my upper arms.

He pulled me up along his body in a smooth movement, my face suddenly close to his 
own, belly to belly, heat to heat.  The urgency was clear.  When I visually expressed my 
desire to return to my former position, Kiefer's eyes blinked no as his hands slid down 
from my arms to grasp my buttocks again.  He pressed my body close to his and his lips 
sought mine.  I felt his tongue probing, seeking entrance into my mouth.  My lips readily 
parted and our tongues began a slow, measured dance.  My body rocked up and down, 
Kiefer's supple and yielding body matching the movements of my own.

Again, I felt as if I might explode, all of my senses overfed, my mind blurred, my 
movements blurred, and Kiefer's tongue reaching for and attaining, apparently, my 
innermost center.  Metaphysically, I was intermeshed with Kiefer's being.  Physically, I 
felt myself being lifted and shifted as Kiefer suddenly disengaged his mouth from mine 
and sat up, pulling my legs up until I again rested on my knees.  In a wink, Kiefer leaned 
back against the headboard in a semi-upright position, his eyes boring into my face, 
insistent and intent.  My body rested not an inch below his hard on, my own readiness 
revealed by the glistening of juices smeared on my inner thighs and Kiefer's lower body.  
His hands went to my hips, gripping tightly, raising me slightly, urging me forward to 
mount him.

With eyes still  interlocked, I managed to move the short distance, shaking in 
anticipation.  Somehow my arms managed to hold me up as I allowed Kiefer to guide 
himself slowly into me.  I inhaled deeply and my head went back as I slid down on him 
and the breath left my body in a long, slow hissing sound.  Oh, god.  Had it ever felt this 
good?  Ever felt as if my very center were being touched? 

We rocked slowly, at times my chin on Kiefer's head, at times staring at one another.  
Overwhelmed with emotion, I succumbed to Kiefer's touch, his direction, as he moved 
my body in the rhythm he needed, clasping my buttocks and digging his fingers into the 
flesh.  Our slow-paced rocking movement eventually gave way to a sharp, bucking 
motion, still guided by Kiefer's grip on my buttocks.  As my head bobbed forward and 
back, the back of his locked onto the headboard and he sucked his bottom lip into his 
mouth.  Shortly, Kiefer's face found its way between my breasts for only seconds before 
it shot back to the headboard and his arms fiercely clamped my body holding me still as 
he rode into me from underneath.  His throbbing cock found its way even more deeply 
inside me, but more intense than this was the feeling that he'd somehow penetrated a core 
that had never been penetrated before.  And still, there were those eyes, seemingly 
pledged to mine as he emptied his load into me, thrusting deep, and yet deep again.

I was wilted.  Limp.  It wasn't my emotions that made me sink my cheek to his chest, but 
physical exhaustion.  He'd said it would be fast.  Quick, this time.  If this were fast, oh, 
god, what would the slow burn be like?  Could I bear it?  I stayed motionless for what 
seemed ages.  Kiefer, too, was non-moving.  Our breathing slowed, lazily, from quick, 
short, belabored bursts to long, measured intakes.

After our breathing returned to a more normal rate, Kiefer, whose arms were still around 
me, tightened his grasp and pulled me to him.  The slight upward movement expelled our 
mingled secretions from my body and the delicious, hot liquid dribbled down both inner 
thighs.  Funny.  I'd thought to hold on to that forever.  Keep this part of him inside me, 
deep, safe.  And for the third time this morning I was conscious of not feeling 
embarrassed in circumstances that sometimes are.

I pulled up from Kiefer's chest, settling back onto knees.  I stared down.  His eyes were 
closed, and I had an opportunity to study his face, to memorize this moment, this look.  
The fuzzy stubble, the thick, long lashes, the square jawline, the slightly pouty lips.  
When his eyes opened, they were neither clearly blue nor green, but a bewitching cross 
between.

As his eyes sought mine, he smiled.  An audible, slow breath escaped his mouth.  He 
looked content.  I hoped my expression conveyed the same to him.  I reached my hand up 
to cup his right cheek and, as I had done to him before, he turned his lips to kiss my palm.

"Feelin' sticky?" he chuckled.

"Uh huh," I nodded.

"I'll get us a towel," I continued, and I raised myself up and over him, exiting the bed on 
what I now considered "his" side.  When I returned, Kiefer's eyes were again closed and 
a faint smile played on his lips.  I'd been gone three or four minutes, taking advantage of 
an opportunity to both pee and clean up a bit.  He was not asleep, but rested peacefully.  
I'd brought a warm, wet cloth and a towel.  As I crawled onto the bed and knelt beside 
him, his eyes opened.  I was about to wash him, making movements to begin, but he took 
the cloth from me and began to slowly wipe himself clean.  It was an intimate moment, 
watching this man smooth the cloth over his most private places, holding his near-soft 
cock up towards his belly as he cleaned below.  Then his left hand went to his balls, 
lifting those as he swathed this area as well.  When he tossed the cloth to the floor, I 
presented the towel and he dried himself off quickly.  His eyes monitored his progress 
while completing the task and again I'd been allowed the opportunity to observe his face.  
I was enchanted.   

Kiefer tossed the towel and at the same time I exited the bed, walked around the end, and 
sat down on the other side, facing the cart Del had brought earlier.
 
"You hungry?" I finally formed words.

No response.

I rolled back and onto my left side, reaching out my arm and lightly running my palm 
over Kiefer's chest.  My head tilted upward to look at his face in an attempt to gather 
information.

He smiled, but offered no words.  I returned to my former sitting position and opened two 
of the silver-domed dishes, nesting one of the domes over the other on the bottom shelf of 
the cart.  One plate held mounds of sausage and bacon.  Another held scrambled eggs.  
Toast was found nestling on a plate under a third shiny dome.  I quickly placed several 
pieces of bacon on a piece of toast and folded the toast over.  I rolled over and proffered 
the half-sandwich to Kiefer. 

His right hand reached for the sandwich and he slowly bit into it, chewed, and swallowed.  
He was taking his second bite when I turned back to the cart.

"More coffee?" I asked.  "Or, perhaps some juice. There's some here.  Looks like orange 
juice."

I turned to look at him.  He continued to chew, evidently his last bite, his eyes trained on 
my movements.  He shook his head up and down.

"Okay."  I paused, waiting for his choice.  "Which one?" I finally had to ask.

He looked confused.

"Which beverage, silly?"  Pause.  "Coffee or juice?"

He rumbled the word juice.

As I turned my attention back to the cart to pour juice, I felt Kiefer's hand on my back.  
My eyes involuntarily shut.  I experienced a sharp intake of breath.  That touch.  I felt 
dizzy.  Keep your hands steady, I thought.  Don't spill the juice.

Eventually, I filled a glass and turned to hand it to Kiefer.  I wish I'd been able to keep 
his hand on my back.  It was not to be though.  But as I lamented the loss of his hand's 
touch, it quickly came up to rest on my cheek.  Oh.  Was I shaking my head right there 
before him?  Was I making the 'oh' noise?  No matter.  I felt no embarrassment.  I 
inclined my head closer to his hand, kissing the air with my lips as I looked into his eyes.   
A smile spread across his face.

Kiefer inhaled a deep, deep breath.  He was in no hurry.  No hurry to speak.  No hurry, 
apparently, to take the glass from my hand.  He just looked at me, hand still on my cheek.  
He finally spoke.

"You gonna drink that juice, or let me have it?"

My eyebrow went up.  He was playing.  I followed suit.

"I'm gonna let you have it.  And it won't be this juice."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I challenged.

I put the glass back on the cart and searched for a weapon.  The toast was buttered.  I 
grabbed a piece, turned, and moved towards Kiefer, placing the toast buttered-side down 
on his chest, smearing it into the thick hair.  I watched his eyes the whole time, and they 
were huge and round as he grabbed my wrist to stop the movement of the toast.  He 
exerted enough pressure to make me squeal and release the now soggy bread.  He 
scooped up the messy lump into his palm and abruptly squashed it to my upper chest 
between my collarbones.  Kiefer's grin widened.  I pulled away, the lump falling to the 
sheets, and grabbed for more ammunition.  This time it was a handful of still warm 
scrambled eggs.  As I turned again to face him, Kiefer's head began shaking to and fro.

"No you don't," he defied me.  "You'd better not do that!"

Before the last word was out I'd slapped the eggs onto his belly, in and all around his 
navel.  He burst into laughter and grabbed my shoulders.  

"I oughta make you eat those," he chuckled and slid one hand up to my head, forcing it in 
the direction of the pile of eggs.

It looked pretty inviting to me, so I allowed my head to be guided and soon my parted 
lips sucked up a bite of the eggs.  Then another.  Kiefer really started laughing hard then, 
the eggs bouncing up and down as his tummy moved in and out.  We both sat watching 
the dance of the scrambled eggs which made us both laugh even more.  Suddenly, in the 
midst of this hearty laughter, we grew silent, catching our breath. 

It was a good silence-not the kind of silence that becomes uncomfortable when with 
someone you don't know very well.  The silence, however, was short-lived-died with a 
knock on the door.

"Kiefer," came a muffled voice.  "It's Tom.  Lemme in."

Kiefer's expression changed to one of perplexity.  He tilted his head for a second, then he 
vacated the bed and went quickly to the door-heedless of his naked state-unbolting it 
and opening it in one smooth progression.  I scurried to pull the sheet up and over me.

Tommy stood there in the doorway, looking anxious, apparently unruffled by Kiefer's 
lack of clothing.  Kiefer took his arm and ushered him into the room, closing the door.

"Mom's looking for you."  It was delivered as a grave pronouncement.  "You'd better 
come!"

Kiefer's eyes closed to a near squint and his lips curled with mischief.

"Just did, brother," Kiefer delivered the words and slapped Tom on the shoulder.  He 
turned to me as he finished and I gave him what I hoped was a menacing look.

Nervously, Tom glanced at me, then returned his gaze to his brother.

"I'm not kidding, Kie.  She's looking for you."  He paused, glanced my way yet again.  

Kiefer's face became serious.

"Tommy, I already owe you a pounding.  You're the one responsible for the never-ending 
charades game last night."  Kiefer did proceed to smack Tom several times on the upper 
arm with a fisted hand.

"Now you come here this morning and tell me Mom's lookin' for me.  Are you 
determined to piss me off?"

"I . . . I . . . " Tom stumbled.  No wonder.  Poor man.  Kiefer's chest was shiny with 
margarine, the chest and belly hair neatly holding bits of scrambled egg.  He was a mess, 
and I was certain I might have vestiges of egg on my face.  

"Look, bro.  I was just warning you, that's all."  And Tom looked earnestly into Kiefer's 
eyes.

Kiefer relented.  He smiled that lopsided smile and rubbed his right palm up and down 
Tom's arm.

"I know.  I know.  Thanks."  While delivering these words, Kiefer was opening the door 
and guiding Tom through it into the hallway.  Tommy looked questioningly at Kiefer 
still.  I couldn't see Kiefer's face any longer though.

"I got it, Tommy.  I'll be there soon."  And with that the door closed and Kiefer turned to 
me, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked.

He continued shaking his head as he spoke.

"Maybe we could put some bacon around my ears and some more eggs in my belly 
button and I could pass for an omelette.  Escape.  Get outta Dodge."

My smile must have been a quarter of a mile wide.  My belly caved inward as I sucked in 
my breath in erupting laughter.

"C'mere.  I'll put bacon on your ears!  I'll put some bacon in some other places, too!"

Kiefer's body sprang into a running dive and he landed in the middle of the bed, jerking 
the sheet down.  The upper half of his body draped over my lower half, smearing the 
greasy mess all over me.  I had no idea what the maid would think when she observed the 
disorder in this room.  Kiefer leaned up onto his elbows and began to lick my tummy.  I 
giggled because it tickled.  Because it tickled and because I was giddy.  Because I was 
giddy and because it felt so good to be so close to him.

He sat up on his knees, one hand on my thigh, one on my forearm.

"Watcha thinkin'" he inquired.

I smiled at him before I answered.

"I'm thinking that I feel good.  Feel comfortable."  I bit my lower lip as I finished.  I 
hoped he might feel the same way, too.

He didn't respond verbally, but the near-shy up and down movement of his head 
communicated that he had similar feelings.

We looked at one another for half a minute.  I wanted to say something, but wasn't really 
sure what.  Thanks seemed too little.  God this has been fucking fantastic seemed too 
much.  As I struggled with just the right words to say, Kiefer spoke.

"I'm comfortable, too.  Comfortable with you."  He glanced down, then back up.

Before speaking again, his tongue slipped out between his lips and he licked the left 
corner of his mouth.  He swallowed.

Deep breath.

"It's good we waited.  I mean . . . waited for this."

"Kiefer, I don't think waiting since last night is all that big a thing!" I laughed.

He looked puzzled briefly and then continued.

"No, no.  Not since last night.  I mean . . . I mean I'm glad we didn't do this years ago."

My face must have registered some form of wicked merriment, for Kiefer clammered to 
make himself clearer.

"No, I don't mean . . ." he offered, frustrated.

"Too late, boy-o.  You just hurt my feelings.  I'll make you think you're glad we didn't 
do this years ago!" I yelled.  I lightly slapped the side of his head.  "So bad, was it," I 
continued, "that now you wish we hadn't done it?"

Kiefer smiled at my mock anger, took my hand in his.

"We're a mess, aren't we?" he stated, his eyes traveling the length of my body, then 
surveying his own.

"Yeah, we are.  You particularly," I said as I traced the fingertip of my other hand down 
his chest.  "You'd better hit the shower, omelette-boy!  Shirley's gonna 9-1-1 if you don't 
show your face soon."

Kiefer let go of my hand and cupped my face in both of his.  When he let go, he rose on 
his knees and gave a smart salute.

"On my way, sir.  To the shower!"

He jumped over me and out of bed, but stopped and turned around, lowering himself to 
his knees on the floor beside the bed.  I inclined my head to him, thinking he'd 
remembered some unsaid thing.  I was wrong.  Very wrong.

Kiefer must have spied, or stepped on, some of the egg-y mixture on the floor as he 
headed to the bathroom.  Suddenly, his hand came up over the edge of the bed and 
delivered a near-handful of the now cold, rubbery eggs to my belly.  I screamed 
obscenities at him as he rubbed the gross mixture into my skin.

Out of breath with laughter, Kiefer finally ceased his icky massage.

"You are an ass, do you hear me?" I wagged my finger in his face.

"Uh huh.  I hear you."  He stood and turned, making his way to the bathroom door.  He 
looked over his shoulder at me, that cocky grin on his face.

"And I suppose later on you'll be wanting to spank me for being such a bad boy, eh?"  
And he winked before entering the bathroom.

My body went limp.  He was teasing me.  Or was he daring me.  Or was he letting me 
know that later on my suddenly tingling palm might make contact with that decidedly 
firm rump?  My imagination ran wild.  I tried to keep it in check.  As I heard the water 
turn on in the bathroom, I brought my mind's focus back to the present.  What a 
wonderful evening last night.  What a wonderful morning so far.  Whatever the rest of the 
day held, whatever the future held, I had these memories safely tucked inside my heart's 
vault.