Georgia-Better Known as Heaven
Chapter 4

The room was not empty after Kiefer left.  Something of him remained.  I couldn't bring 
myself to leave the bed.  Too warm.  Too many recent, very recent, memories.  I wanted 
somehow to capture them before a long shower threatened to rinse away even a smote of 
their potency.

My only concern, and it was not a strong one, was what kind of flack Kiefer might take 
from Shirley.  I had learned that he was not, as Shirley thought, daunted by her imposing 
personality.  In fact, he indulged her by pretending to be.  She may be upset by not 
knowing his whereabouts, but he'd not let her get under his skin.

Kiefer was adept at sliding past trouble spots.  I'd seen him maneuver around difficulties 
with ease, as long as the difficulties didn't touch him too closely.  He adored his mother - 
that I knew.  But she was less an influence on him than she believed.  He'd been on his 
own for a very long time - over two decades.  Kiefer needed everyone and no one.

As he exited my room, he threw a sentence and a question over his shoulder.

"I have Mom to pacify and some phone calls to make this morning, but I'd love to treat 
you to lunch.  Be ready around 11:30?"

I nodded affirmatively and smiled as Kiefer went out the door.  It gave me plenty of time 
to daydream and to get ready.  The only problem was not knowing what to get ready for.  
Casual?  Formal?  Crap.  I'd think of something.

I continued to daydream.  But the delicious dreams turned troubling after a bit.  Things 
seemed to be moving so fast.  What did I know of this man really?  That is, what did I 
know of him intimately.  Sure, I knew him better in this way now than I had last night, 
but what did I really know?  Suddenly I was very nervous.  Had I dreamed all of this?  
Surely.  But no.  His smell infused the pillow, the sheets, the room, my nose.

I shook my head in wonder to no one but myself.  Amazing.  Lunch with this man.  This 
man I'd been studying for a long time now.  Wondering.  Wondering what the more 
intimate side would be like.  And now I was learning.  Georgia would always hold special 
memories for me, especially if these were to be the only ones I'd have of him.  Again the 
word "lunch" popped into my thoughts.  But lunch where?  What to wear?

Stupid, I thought to myself.  You're stupid.  Call him.  I had his cell phone number saved 
on my own which lay on the bedside table.  I picked it up, found the number, and 
punched the dial button.  I didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

"Hey," he said.  "It's not 11:30 yet.  You hungry already?"

"Nah.  I didn't know how to dress.  Sorry to bother you, but you didn't mention where 
we'd be going."

"Well, I didn't know where we'd be going.  But I do now.  Casual.  Very.  And have a 
swimsuit and sunscreen and that kinda stuff.  Okay?"

"Okay.  I'll be ready.  Bye."

"Later."

So, it would be something informal.  That was good.  I dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with 
my bikini underneath.  I gathered a few other things, a wrap, some underwear, various 
body potions and lotions, sunglasses, hat, and beach towel, and stuffed them in a large 
tote.

I was ready at 11:15.  Just enough time for me to allow my mind to wander back to this 
morning.  I couldn't, didn't, stop myself from going over every detail.  I had worked 
myself into quite a state of excitement when at 11:32 there was a soft knock at the door.  
Silly, but my heart was pounding as I rushed to the door and pulled it open.

Kiefer looked very handsome.  A blue-green shirt.  Khaki shorts.  Sunglasses.  And, most 
unusual, he sported a Panama hat with an aqua-colored hatband.  When we exited the 
house, a car awaited us at curbside.  We entered the backseat and the driver took off, 
apparently aware of our destination.  I dug around in my tote and retrieved my own 
sunglasses.  The Georgia sun was bright and the glare from the road made the glasses 
welcome.

I asked Kiefer where we were headed.  He told me it was a surprise and not to ask.  Our 
conversation turned to the vacation so far.  I told Kiefer that I was very grateful that he'd 
included me in the invitation and that everything had been incredibly wonderful.  Within 
twenty minutes, we pulled into a marina and got out of the car.  Kiefer carried my tote as 
well as his own small duffel bag.  As we made our way closer to the boats, Kiefer 
revealed that we were going out for a picnic on a yacht, a pretty good sized-one, at least 
forty-five feet.  A man, apparently the captain, stood beside the boat we were going out 
on as we approached.  Kiefer and the man engaged in conversation for a moment or two 
and then we boarded.

The captain ushered us to the cabin door and told us he'd give us a couple of minutes to 
get situated and then he'd get underway.  The cabin was sumptuous, the furnishings and 
appointments elegant.  Kiefer tossed his duffel and my tote bag down and then removed 
his hat and glasses. I placed mine back in my tote bag.  Simultaneously, we kicked off 
our sandals.

Lunch had been brought onboard already, and it was scrumptious.  Delightfully, the meal 
was not one of those tedious ones we'd suffered through last night.  The best part was 
that it was mostly finger-food and we got to feed one another.  A long banquette extended 
about six feet along one side of the cabin's interior and in front of it was a table, solidly 
attached to the floor on a sturdy looking steel pedestal.  The table was laden with the 
food, the variety of which was amazing.  We tried all the different foods together and 
compared reactions.  If one of us did not care for a particular item, the other got the 
remainder.  This continued until only the veggie and dip tray remained.  Carrots.

Our lunch turned into a fun-fest when baby carrots came into play and we attempted to 
stuff them into various orifices!  I stuck a baby carrot in Kiefer's ear.  He laughed and 
said he'd gotten used to having food stuffed into crevices while around me.  He grabbed a 
celery stalk and tried to stuff it down my t-shirt, a move I blocked with my right arm.  I 
went back to the carrots, and this time determined to stuff one up Kiefer's nose.  He 
realized what I was going to do, grabbed my wrist, and yanked the carrot from my 
fingers.  He stuffed the carrot in his left nostril and then grabbed another, stuffing it up 
the other one.  He jumped up and got down on his knees, slapping the palms of his hands 
together and making grunting sounds, appearing as some crazed psychedelic walrus.

I laughed so hard that I slipped down on the cushions of the banquette.  Kiefer stopped 
his walrus imitation, stood, and smiled down at me.  He removed the carrots from his 
nose, tossed them aside, and eased onto the edge of the cushion leaning over me.  
Immediately the anticipation grew.  The simple act of being near him was all it took.  
One of Kiefer's hands came to rest on top of my head, the other on my hip, and he 
nuzzled his nose up and down my neck and shoulder; my hands traveled lightly up and 
down his back.  I turned my head slightly to reach Kiefer's ear and showered it with soft 
kisses.  He raised his head and playfully bit my earlobe.  

I wondered how far this nuzzling and kissing would go.  It was delicious no matter the 
outcome.  Soon, though, I had my answer.

Kiefer sat up and looked at me.  His eyes narrowed, squinted almost, and he licked his 
lower lip.  But what followed vocally did not match his expression.

"Let's change and get some sun, maybe a quick swim.  Just enjoy the water."

"Sounds great.  I need to move around after all that food!"

As Kiefer stood, I followed suit.  I pulled my t-shirt over my head, revealing my bikini 
top.

"Damn.  You wore your swimsuit!  I wish I'd done that.  I gotta change all the way."

"Aw.  I'm just lazy.  Thought it'd be easier to just wear the thing.  I brought underwear to 
put on later."

"Just underwear," Kiefer asked, his eyes getting big.  "Ummmm.  Just underwear.  I like 
that!  Is it that little underwear?  Those thong things?"

"No, goofy.  I meant underwear to put on under my clothes later when I take off my 
swimsuit.  And, yes, if it's any of your business, the panties are those thong things."  I 
shook my head at him as if exasperated.

Kiefer puffed out his lower lip and pretended to sob, leaning over to place his chin on my 
shoulder.

"You . . .  called . . . me . . . goofy," he gasped out like a crying child.

I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him to me and babbling soothing baby talk in 
his ear.  He allowed me to continue this for a full half minute then abruptly he pulled 
back and away.

"Mind if I take off my clothes right here?"

I'm not sure why he asked.  He had turned and his shorts and underwear were down 
before he finished the question.  Seconds later the shirt was off.  And there he was.  
Naked before me.  Oh, it was the backside of him, but it was still more than my system 
could take without emitting an involuntary moan.  Thankfully, it was a silent noise and he 
didn't hear me.  In some ways I didn't like what I was feeling.  I halfway resented the 
fact that every single muscle below my waist was contracting and sending signals to my 
brain.  It wasn't right that he should be able to do this to me with no effort on his part.

As Kiefer moved to his duffel bag, I studied his walk.  I liked it.  I liked his legs, the 
muscular upper thighs, the ample calves.  Then, the devil had the gall to bend over to 
retrieve his swim trunks and reveal his balls to my eyesight.  Well, shit, I thought.  Just 
what I need.  Another stimulus.  I turned away and rummaged through my tote bag for 
my glasses, sarong, and hat.  I could hear Kiefer pulling on his trunks, the sound of fabric 
rustling.

After I removed my shorts, I wrapped the sarong-like cover-up around my shoulders.  
Because we'd both removed our sandals before eating, I asked if he thought we'd need 
them.

"Nah," he replied and took my left hand in his right, leading me out of the cabin.

We emerged into the sunlight.  And it was bright.  I placed my hat firmly on my head and 
pushed my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose.  Kiefer replaced the Panama on his 
head; the sunglasses had been put in place before we left the galley.  He wore blue swim 
trunks, boxer style, but no shirt.  We headed to the bow of the boat where cushions-
deep, comfortable cushions-covered about an eight-foot long seating area.  As we sat 
facing one another, we both turned out bodies sideways in order to look forward at the 
sparkling water spreading into a soft "v" shape as the yacht slowly made its way. 

We lazily watched the water for about a quarter of an hour.  From time to time, Kiefer ran 
the palm of his hand up and down my arm.  His touch made me feel many things, but at 
this moment it was mostly a warm and comfortable feeling.  The sun and water were a 
perfect backdrop for my emotions - warm and, surprisingly, deep.  I say surprisingly 
because I was unprepared for the power of the emotions inside me.  I was taken aback by 
how relaxed and connected to Kiefer I felt.

Finally, after glancing his way several times, I placed my hand on Kiefer's face and 
asked if he wanted to take a short swim.  He nodded and stood, making his way to the 
phone to communicate his wishes to the captain.  It wasn't long before the boat was 
anchored and a ladder was lowered.  I knew the water would feel incredibly cold on my 
skin because the sunshine had warmed me to a delicious state.

Kiefer went in first.  He backed over the edge of the boat and lowered himself perhaps 
two steps down the ladder before he gave a shout and pushed off backwards, plunging 
into the water.  I began to lower myself, rung by rung, not relishing the sting of the cold 
water.  I could hear Kiefer surface behind me.

"Shit, it's cold."

How heartening.  Now I really took the rungs slowly.

"C'mon, chicken.  Get in the water!"

His words didn't goad me.  I wanted a bit of exercise.  I'd almost napped while we sat in 
the sun, and a short swim would do the trick.  I just dreaded that first minute or two while 
adjusting to the water.  I felt Kiefer's hand clasp my right ankle.

"Come on!"  He tugged at my foot.

"All right.  Don't rush me."

As I said the last words I took a deep breath and let go of the ladder.  The plunge was 
what I expected.  The warmer the skin temperature, the colder the water feels.  The sun 
and Kiefer's occasional caresses had heated my skin to the point where the water now felt 
like ice.  I felt myself catch my breath underwater.  The goose bumps covered my flesh 
instantly and I shivered.

Kiefer came up behind me and as my head emerged from the water, his arms went around 
my waist.  He seemed already warm.  It felt good to have him so near.  We treaded water 
for a moment or two then I began to swim around the boat.  Kiefer followed.  I wasn't 
swimming fast, just getting the much-needed exercise.

Easily, Kiefer pulled up beside and fell into rhythm with me.  I was glad he wasn't going 
to engage in any racing nonsense.  I wouldn't have been successful.  The full stomach 
and warm sun had made me near comatose.  Kiefer seemed happy to simply swim slowly 
by my side.  We made two lazy laps around the huge yacht.  In fact, a third of the last lap 
was completed on our backs as we languidly paddled our way back to our starting point.

I was ready to get out of the water.  I had enjoyed the exercise, but I wanted to feel the 
sun on my skin again.  I signaled to Kiefer that I was headed to the ladder.  I climbed 
back up and over into the boat.  I turned and waited for Kiefer.  As he neared my side, the 
wind stirred and served to initiate in me a visible shiver.  He placed his arm around me 
and led me back to the comfortable seating in the bow and kept his arm around me until 
the sun had warmed me again.  Personally, I doubted the sun's power, and I attributed my 
warmth to Kiefer's nearness.  We simply sat in comfortable silence, and I began to study 
my surroundings. 

I don't know crap about boats, but I know gorgeous.  This boat was gorgeous.  I allowed 
my eyes to travel the scope of this lovely vessel as I leaned against Kiefer's chest.  The 
deck looked like glass it was so highly polished.  The wood was stained an elegant deep 
cherry.  I mention the deck because it's what started the teasing.  I told Kiefer how 
beautiful the floor was.  He snorted.  Snorted at me.  Then he began to laugh without 
sound.  That irritating laughter someone does at your expense.  I was puzzled.

"What's wrong with you, Kiefer?  What are you laughin' at? 

Kiefer finally caught his breath enough to choke out a correction.

"It's not a floor, silly.  It's a deck.  A deck.  We're not in a ballroom y'know."

"What?"  I paused, unsure how to proceed.  He continued to laugh, now with his head 
turned into a cushion. 

"Okay.  I don't know diddly about boats.  Geez.  It's a deck.  A deck.  And it's beautiful.  
Now, is that better?  It means the same thing."

He pulled his face out of the cushion and looked at me, but his eyes weren't satisfied.  
They sparkled more than the sun on the water's surface to my left.  And the look was, 
well, impish.

"I can't believe you didn't know it was called a deck," he chuckled as he sat upright 
again.  "And as much as you read!  I know Melville used the term 'deck' in his novels, 
didn't he?"  He shook his head back and forth in disbelief.

I was not about to allow this rebuke to go unchallenged.

"Look, buddy.  I'm unaccustomed to the nomenclature of sailing, but I'm not without 
knowledge of the word 'deck' and a few other words that sound like that.  Take 'dick' for 
instance.  And, don't sailors use the term 'head' to indicate a bathroom facility?  You 
could put those two words together yielding the word 'dickhead' and that would be one I 
was very familiar with.  In fact, it's one I could use to describe someone close to me 
now."

He rolled over into the cushions again, body shaking.  He appeared to be sobbing, but I 
knew he wasn't.  After a few seconds he jumped up and started a pirate-jig, complete 
with peg-leg stiffness, making pirate-like sounds to accompany the dance.  Then he 
started chanting.

"Aye, the floor's are shiny on this old tub, the floor's are shiny on this old tub, the floors, 
the floors, the floors.  The floors are a beauty 'cause we scrub, scrub, scrub."

He stared at me the whole time he chanted this insult to my boating intelligence.  He was 
on the third round when it suddenly struck me.  This teasing had a purpose, was driven by 
some desire.  He had an end in mind.  An end.  His end?  My heart almost stopped.  Was 
he opening the way for that spanking?  Helping me along?  Setting up the scene, so to 
speak?

I was suddenly in a dither.  What to do?  I didn't know the man intimately enough to 
determine what he was aiming for.  Didn't know if he enjoyed some kind of role-playing 
or just wanted a smack or two to get things heated up.  I decided on the safe course of 
action.  A swat or two wouldn't be too out of line.  And the result would tell me a bit 
about what he wanted.  Or, I could be all wrong and he could just be in a teasing mood.  
Hmmm.  Well, so was I now.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', boy."

He stopped dead still in mid-pirate pose at my words.  His eyelids blinked slowly.

"Oh, yeah?"  His voice was a low, velvety rumble.  His eyes challenged me.  One 
eyebrow arched up.

"Yeah."  And I leapt up towards him assuming a tackle stance.

In the blink of an eye he turned and took off away from me.  I followed.  He was faster, 
of course, but judged how much to slow down in order to let me catch him.  It didn't take 
long.  When I pulled up even with him, I placed my left arm lengthwise across his chest 
to stop his forward movement.  Then I raised my right arm in the air and swung it down 
until my palm made contact with the wet swimming trunks that covered that delicious 
bottom.  Once, twice, three times my hand smacked Kiefer's right cheek.

His response was what I've now named the sqrowl - that's a cross between a squeal and 
a growl.  The sound wasn't high-pitched enough to be a squeal and not low enough to be 
a growl, hence, sqrowl.  He uttered the sound three times, once after each swat on the 
bottom.  I liked the sound as much as I liked the contact with his butt cheek.

The split-second hesitation following the third smack cost me any subsequent ones, not 
that I'd planned on any more anyway.  But it was long enough for Kiefer to place his 
right hand on my forearm, pull my left arm away from his chest, and turn slightly towards 
me.

"Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww," he now said, staring into my eyes.  The sound was 
accompanied by a marvelous pout that lasted only a second or two.  I very much wanted 
to see that pout again.  My right arm still free, I reached behind him and smacked his left 
cheek.  His body moved closer to mine.

I was rewarded.  Another "owwwwwwwww" followed by the pouty-mouthed lips, 
begging, it seemed, to be kissed.

"You better stop smackin' me.  That hurts."  His eyes betrayed him.  He wasn't hurting.

"You deserved that, pirate-boy.  Behave and stop teasing me or I'll smack you some 
more."

"Uh uh.  You better not.  That huh-urrrt."  He slowly batted the mile-long golden 
eyelashes, enhanced at this very second by a ray of sunshine, courtesy of Satan, I'm sure.  
I felt certain it was Satan because I decidedly was feeling some devilish feelings and 
thinking some evil thoughts.

Just as I gained enough courage to reach around and give his bottom a good squeeze, 
Kiefer reached behind himself with his right hand and rubbed his right butt cheek in a 
soothing motion.

"Oooo.  Poor baby.  Want me to help with that?"  I couldn't resist the question.  I was 
reminded of the sand on my behind and his generous offer the evening before.  My right 
hand slid between the waistband of his swim trunks and his skin.  I rubbed his left cheek, 
making little circles with my palm and cooing words of comfort in his ear.  I suddenly 
was consumed with the idea of sinking my teeth into his butt flesh.

I knelt, curling the fingers of both hands inside the waistband of his trunks and jerkily 
pulling them down.  The damp fabric clung to his body and it wasn't easy getting them 
off.  Nevertheless, I completed my task quickly enough that Kiefer didn't have time to 
react, or didn't want to.

I moved to a perpendicular position to Kiefer and wrapped my arms tightly around his 
upper thighs while bending my head back behind him.  I went in for the bite, but Kiefer's 
buttocks muscles tightened and I wasn't very successful.  I laid my face on his left butt 
cheek, rubbing up and down.  The heat of my facial cheek against the wet clamminess of 
his butt cheek made for an interesting sensation.  Eventually, I relinquished my right 
arm's grasp around his thighs and moved my palm to his other cheek, softly rubbing it 
until he relaxed his muscles.  

When I moved my left arm up along his body for a better hold, I was rewarded with my 
forearm touching nothing - touching nothing meaning that Kiefer's cock was hard and 
pointing upward out of range of my arm.  I angled my head up to catch a glimpse of 
Kiefer's back and realized that his arms were up over his head, palms touching the 
outside wall of the cabin for support.

I lowered my head again, and, seeing Kiefer's muscles still relaxed, I began to knead his 
firm bottom with my right hand while my teeth went in for a nip on the left cheek.  This 
time he didn't resist, and I moved my head all around sinking firm but not hurtful bites 
into Kiefer's flesh.  I could have continued at length, for I was feeling and hearing the 
fruits of my labor.  Kiefer's body had begun to sway back and forth and the intermittent 
guttural moans had my head swimming.

It wasn't like the tide rolling in.  It was immediate.  I was hot and wet and empty.  I was 
aware, yet again in a very short space of time, that all my below-waist muscles were 
involuntarily tightening and loosening in an attempt to fill a void.  My left hand 
instinctively went to Kiefer's cock and as I encircled it with my left palm, he managed to 
turn his upper body sideways and lift me from my kneeling position.  He pulled me in 
front of him.    

We were face to face.  No more teasing eyes.  They now burned.  Kiefer pushed my back 
against the cabin wall.  Not a push to hurt, but one to let me know he was now in control.  
I didn't mind at all.  His face was near enough to mine that I could feel his hot breath but 
far away enough to see the change in his face.  The rakish pirate-boy was no more.  This 
face was full of determination and desire.

The sex that followed was hot.  Hot, hard, and fast.  The sun beat down on the top of my 
head.  There was not a little excitement stirred in me knowing that the captain was above 
us only feet away, and I recognized that all he had to do was take a step or two to his left 
and look down to see us about to engage in furious sex.

Kiefer stepped out of his swim trunks and had little trouble pulling the bikini bottom 
down my thighs where it then fell to the deck and I stepped out of it.  Kiefer's still 
slightly damp body pressed against mine. We were both a bit cold, yet hot at the same 
time, and the clamminess of our skin dissipated into heat only seconds after our bodies 
made contact.  My bikini top stayed in place.  My breasts were not the focus of attention 
this time around.  My juxtaposition between man and boat created a strange but delightful 
sensation.  The smooth, warm surface of the cabin wall warmed my back and Kiefer's hot 
torso warmed my front.

My hands went to Kiefer's shoulders, and I kneaded them, pressing my fingers into his 
flesh.  His lips went to my neck, and he lightly bit my skin, driving me crazy as his hands 
traveled up and down my thighs.  My fingers went back to Kiefer's bottom and, as I dug 
them in and pulled him closer to me, his tongue darted into my left ear, licked the rim, 
then made a path down my left cheek to my lips.  When Kiefer kissed me, I closed my 
eyes.  I felt as I had earlier this morning when we kissed - felt as if I were floating in 
some soothing, warm liquid.

My arms tightly gripped Kiefer's neck as he raised me several inches to a proper height.  
I swung my legs up around his body and dug them into his waist as if my life depended 
on it.  Penetration was not a scene from a pleasing, pretty, fairy-tale.  It was also not his 
doing.  I was so eager to feel him inside me that I impaled myself on him, shoving him up 
into me by further tightening my arms and legs around his body.

Everything burned.  My throat, my insides, my brain.  I wanted our pelvic bones to 
merge, to feel his body as deeply inside of mine as possible.  The clamminess was long 
gone.  All was hot.  Sweaty.  My hair was wet and sticking to Kiefer's shoulder as I 
clasped my arms even more tightly behind his neck.  My combined arm and leg grip 
allowed him to place his hands up above us with his palms against the cabin wall.  He 
used the leverage to thrust and grind deeply and quickly into me.

We both grunted.  We both sucked in and spat out air.  My body, as it near imperceptibly 
moved slightly away from and then back into the cabin wall, made a smacking, sucking 
sound - a sweaty body sticking to and then pulling away from a slick surface.  The 
slightly circular motion of his feverish grinding and the crushing nearness of our bodies 
had brought me to near-orgasm.  I'd been so psychologically turned on by the moments 
leading up to this that it hadn't taken much physical stimulation to bring me to the edge - 
I was still pumped by the pirate-spanking incident.  My body shuddered as the current of 
orgasm began its way up and down within me, and Kiefer's body briefly tightened into a 
pre-climax position.  Then he began, if possible, even more furiously and quickly to drive 
into me until he, too, experienced release.

We did not look at one another during this encounter as we had this morning.  The back 
of my head now rested on the cabin wall, but earlier I'd had my head on his left shoulder 
and his chin, sometimes his forehead, rested on mine.  That's why I could hear so clearly 
the heavy breathing, the gasps, the moans.  They spurred me to squeeze him more tightly 
to me when he got off, and I matched his movements and timing until he was finally still.

I said it before.  The sex was hot, hard, fast, and, in its way, satisfying.  I was sated 
physically, but I wanted more.  It was like having a hot, fresh, gooey, chewy cookie 
straight out of the oven.  The experience is wonderful, gratifying, but indulging in yet 
another cookie would be even better.  There was more to experience with this man.  More 
feelings to be felt.  And I well knew that there were all kinds of excitement and all kinds 
of lovemaking.  It would be delightful, if possible, to experience them all. 
  
Kiefer, too, seemed reluctant to settle for just physical satisfaction. Perhaps he was ready 
for more cookies, too.  I lowered my legs to the ground, but continued to clasp my arms 
around Kiefer's neck.  His face still nestled into my shoulder and his hot breath tickled 
my neck for a full four, maybe five minutes after we'd gotten off.  We didn't move.  
Why, I don't know.  It would certainly have been cooler.  We were stuck to one another 
with sweat.  Sticky.  Wet.  Yet we continued to hold one another, Kiefer's hands now 
behind me and hugged tightly around my waist, mine still lightly draped around his 
shoulders and behind his neck, my fingertips making circles on his skin and in his hair.  
Finally, a change in the sound of the yacht's engine pulled us apart.  We stared at one 
another briefly, blinking but not saying anything.

Kiefer pulled on his swim trunks and I pulled on my bikini bottom.  Silently, we moved 
back to the cushioned seating area in the bow, but not for long.  The heat and the mixed 
liquids between my legs made for a rather uncomfortable ride despite the water's beauty 
and my companion's handsome face.  My own face must have communicated the 
discomfort, for Kiefer soon asked if I was ready to head back to shore to which I nodded 
assent.  For a second time today, he made his way to the phone to let the captain know 
that we were ready to return to the marina.  In truth, as both Kiefer and I knew, the 
captain had had the vessel headed back to shore for some minutes now.

And ready I was.  The yacht was now associated, in my mind, with hot, fast sex and I was 
ready to slow the pace.  I also wanted a shower.  My focus on this desire was not intense 
though.  Mostly my mind was fixed on having that other cookie.  I wanted to experience 
Kiefer in a new way, a different way.  I wanted to touch him all over, kiss him all over, 
watch him as I did so.

When we reached the marina, it took mere moments for us to retrieve our goods and 
make our way to the car.  I hadn't managed to change into that clean underwear.  I wore 
my still damp bikini with the sarong tied around my waist.  Kiefer wore his swimsuit 
with the blue-green shirt, undone.  Once inside and underway, Kiefer's hands freely 
roamed my body.  He didn't suffer neglect from me either.  Again, as with the captain, I 
was cognizant that the car's driver was only a glance in the mirror away from seeing us.  
Kiefer seemed not to be aware of this at all.  Or, perhaps years of being scrutinized had 
made him somewhat immune to prying eyes.  

It was as adventurous, as exciting, as a junior-high exploration of the opposite sex.  The 
driver would be a bit disappointed, though, if watching; neither of us went for areas 
directly associated with sex.  We were more interested in another kind of discovery, 
discovery of self and other.  I was most surprised when Kiefer bit the inside of my wrist 
and I felt an unfamiliar electrical surge inside.  No, the surge was familiar.  The cause 
was unfamiliar.  He seemed amazed when he reacted unexpectedly to the tender kisses I 
placed on the inside of his forearm near where the elbow bends. The investigation of one 
another reached a point where I had to slow down or take the plunge. 

When I half-teasingly asked him if we should have the driver pull the car over so we'd 
have time to finish what we'd started before we got back to the cottages, Kiefer 
whispered in my ear.

"Don't you remember?  I told you a slow-burn was coming.  This is the beginning of the 
warm-up."

Lord, the chills that went down my spine and up my, well, up in me, when that voice 
delivered the low growl into my ear.  And, is if by magic, the car rolled up to and stopped 
at the curbside of my cottage.  Kiefer grabbed our bags and we flew out of the car, 
quickly making our way in the front door and upstairs.

We got to my room, but I have no recollection of using a key to get in the door.  After we 
entered, Kiefer led the way, not stopping until he entered the bathroom.  Before I caught 
up, I heard the water running.  We had our clothes off in a blink and, stepping into the 
warm water, we began to wash and scrub ourselves, gently, not paying much attention to 
one another.  I knew what I wanted to clean.  He knew the same for himself.  This was no 
sensuous shower.  No buildup.  We'd been building up all day.  To this.  Whatever this 
was to be.

I needed no touch to arouse me.  I'd been in a state of arousal since this morning on one 
level or another.  The tender, inquisitive exploration during the ride home had heightened 
my sensitivity and sensibility.  As we exited the shower, I grew even more keenly 
aroused.  Wet male body.  Wet, hard, tattooed male body.  Within reach.  Apparently, 
some animal-like expression painted my face because Kiefer's eyes, wide for a second or 
two only, assumed a calm and relaxed focus as he handed me a towel.  Mechanically, I 
dried off, anticipating, wanting, what was to come.

I had already tossed my towel to the floor as Kiefer finished drying himself.  Perhaps I 
hadn't done a very good job - I felt dry in most places but very wet in others.  Kiefer's 
back was to the sink and he leaned back on the countertop as he pulled me to him.  His 
palms slid up and down my backside from thighs to shoulders.  It was a light touch, a 
gentle touch, but it may as well have been executed with a lit torch.  My skin tingled 
everywhere he touched it, and I pushed myself closer into his body, enjoying the warmth, 
the smell, the feel.

My cheek, my left one, was turned to Kiefer's chest.  I'm unsure how long the stroking 
lasted, probably not long, but I was aware that my own fingers were busy, those of one 
hand softly passing up and down Kiefer's back and the others stroking his wet hair.  
Eventually, Kiefer's hands came to my forearms and he pushed me backwards, turning 
me and guiding me out of the bathroom and towards the bed.  When we reached it, Kiefer 
entered with his head at the foot of the bed and pulled me into the same direction.  

In retrospect, I'm sure of one thing.  I'd never been made love to like that before.  I 
thought, no, I knew that I'd had some great sexual relationships in my life, but now, 
thinking back, the only word that comes to mind about this specific sexual act is 
exquisite.  Well, and another one.  Slow, of course.  Oh, and, as promised, burn.  But it 
was a very long fuse.  No quick and dirty boat sex here.  Neither of us tried to outdo the 
other.  We took turns.  Kiefer licked and kissed and nipped every inch of my body it 
seemed.  His hot breath on my skin, his eager tongue, his gentle fingers, all served to fill 
me simultaneously with both content and yearning.

It was a pleasure to shower Kiefer with affection.  My desire had been to lick him from 
head to toe.  And I did fulfill this desire in part.  It made me dizzy to smell and lick his 
skin.  But my heady journey didn't make it past his navel.  My hands were on his chest as 
I moved my tongue downward, but he grabbed my forearms and pulled me upward.

It's not as easy to describe the position he maneuvered me into as it is to close my eyes 
and feel it.  Facing one another on our sides, Kiefer raised my right leg and encouraged 
me to help him enter me.  That accomplished, he placed my leg over his left one.  Nope, 
that doesn't get it across.  Kiefer was to my left, facing me as I faced him.  My left leg 
and his right leg touched one another, knees facing, and were extended straight out 
toward the headboard.  In fact, our feet were within an inch of it.  After guiding his cock 
into me, Kiefer's left leg was over our two extended ones, but underneath my right one.

We faced one another the whole time.  And it was a long time.  It was languid, but not 
without passion.  Kiefer rocked me endlessly and effortlessly, using the pressure of his 
toes and the ball of his foot on the headboard as a lever, something, from time to time, I 
did as well.  He expended so little bodily energy other than the foot movement that he 
didn't even breathe heavily until he got off.  But the slow road to getting there . . . how to 
describe it?

You know how it happens sometimes?  Suddenly you "feel" that perfect thrust, that 
perfect timing, but it doesn't last long enough, dammit, to bring you to the ecstasy that 
you know it could?  Well, this lasted.  The thrust, the timing, they didn't change.  They 
just went on and on.  I can still feel the sensation when I close my eyes.  It was like 
experiencing a long fireworks show - all the smaller fireworks displays leading up to the 
finale were, in their way, crucial to the effectiveness of the whole.  It was, as he'd told me 
twice before, a slow burn.  The buildup seemed never-ending, but, oh, when it did end!

I don't mention that this round of sex, this lovemaking, lasted for an unusually long time 
to make Kiefer seem superhuman.  In fact, I'm sure that Kiefer (or anyone else, for that 
matter) could not do this time after time.  In fact, I'd already experienced two times when 
he had not.  But this was extraordinary, at least in my experience.  This was more like a 
rite of passage than sex.

I'm not sure what Kiefer was thinking as we stared at one another.  I'm not even sure 
what I was thinking.  I know I felt strongly and intimately connected to him.  Beyond the 
usual connection one feels with a lover.  I know that his face reflected a contented, 
although somewhat dreamy, mood.  From time to time, his left hand, mostly resting over 
my waist, would come to my cheek, his fingertips softly brushing my skin.  At those 
moments I felt a kind of tenderness from him and inside of me that I'd not felt in a long 
time.

When we first settled into this on-our-sides position, our bottom arms, that is those 
resting on the sheet, were crooked at the elbow and placed a bit above our heads.  Our 
fingers entwined and stayed in this linked pose until we both had gotten off.  My right 
hand moved from place to place along Kiefer's body, not impatiently, but affectionately.  
At times I rubbed his back or his side.  At others I allowed my fingers to twist into his 
chest hair.  The best times, though, were when I touched his face, his hair, his neck, and 
watched his eyes smile at me.  At one point, armed with new knowledge of one another, 
he bit my inner wrist which I followed by placing soft kisses on the sensitive flesh of his 
inner forearm.

When the buildup reached its end, at least for me, I used my foot to dig into the 
headboard providing more force to my thrusts and allowing me to insinuate myself even 
more deeply into Kiefer's body.  Although our movements were never furious as they'd 
been on the yacht, they were no less powerful in their way.

I came before Kiefer.  Several minutes before.  I was oddly unabashed, at ease even, as 
he watched me go through the stages of my orgasm, watched me closely as it so very 
slowly and with unfamiliar internal force wafted through my body like an indolent palm 
fan waving in the breeze.  My normal rather pronounced and prolonged orgasmic 
shuddering was absent and only during the last seconds of getting off did my body 
exhibit any external movement bearing any resemblance to its usual behavior.

During my orgasm, Kiefer's left thumb went to my forehead and he made slow circles on 
my skin.  He seemed to be comforting me, but for what reason I don't know.  I felt too 
good to need comforting.  When Kiefer's orgasm came a few moments later, his foot dug 
deeply into the headboard, something I could determine via the increased energy of his 
thrusts.  His eyes belied the relative calmness of his body.  They widened and narrowed, 
widened and narrowed, and for a second or two his head jerked back, but quickly he 
returned his gaze to my own.

As before, on the yacht, I tried to mirror his movements and mood as he came into me.  
In those last seconds of release for him, our entwined fingers above our heads pressed 
firmly together.  When our fingers finally relaxed, we simply pulled closer to one 
another, my face in Kiefer's chest, his in my hair, our free arms wrapped around one 
another's waists.  This blissful state, though, was not to last long.

The phone rang.  I pulled my head back from his chest and looked at Kiefer.  He nodded.  
I disentangled myself, unwillingly, and sat up, reaching for the phone.  It was Tom.  He 
wanted to talk to Kiefer.  I handed the phone to Kiefer, but would have preferred to throw 
it to the bottom of the pool instead.  I returned to his side.  I wanted to feel him around 
me, near me, on me.  I shut my eyes - his scent filled my nostrils, my mind.

"Huh?"  

Kiefer's voice made me open my eyes.  He shook his head, focused on his brother's 
voice.

"When, Tommy?"  Kiefer blinked slowly, his free hand coming to rest on my right cheek.  
He was not breathing heavily anymore, but he was not completely at rest.  He smiled at 
me as two of his fingers gently rubbed my cheek up and down.  His eyes, however, were 
on a different wavelength.

Suddenly, Kiefer said "hi" to someone.  Had the phone on the other side switched hands?

"Yeah.  Sure.  Sure, Ray.  What time?"  Kiefer glanced at the bedside radio clock.

Now I knew who was on the phone.  Kiefer called his sister "Ray" and she called him 
"Kay."  But what was it that she needed, wanted?

"Okay, Ray.  I'll be ready."

Kiefer turned to me after he replaced the phone's receiver on its cradle.  
 
He told me that Rachel had been called to New York because an assignment she'd 
thought was complete had been rejected by some "higher up" figure.  It was not her part 
in the project per se that was being questioned, but she needed to be close at hand to 
make adjustments if upcoming changes necessitated.  

"Guess I'd better hit the shower again before I go.  Do you mind?"

I'm sure I looked puzzled.

"Mind if you take a shower?  Of course not!"

Kiefer chuckled.

"No, no.  Do you mind if I ride with Rachel?  I haven't seen her very much lately.  The 
ride would give us some time together."  He looked at me expectantly.

I wasn't sure if he really thought I'd mind or if he was being polite.

"Kiefer.  Are you serious?"  I emphasized the word serious.  "Of course I don't mind if 
you go with your sister.  My gosh, did you really think I would?"

As Kiefer looked at me, perhaps searching to test my sincerity, his cell phone, in his 
duffel bag, began to ring.  For a few seconds, neither of us moved.  Kiefer seemed 
reluctant to retrieve it from the bag that had been tossed on the floor near the door.

"Go ahead," I told him.  "It could be important."

Kiefer rolled out of bed and retrieved the phone in a matter of seconds.  He returned to 
bed, facing me, as he flipped open the phone and said "hello."  I knew something was 
wrong immediately.  Kiefer's inclination, I'm sure, was to instantly exit the bed, but this 
movement was impeded by the arm I'd draped over his torso when he returned to my 
side.  He did, however, look away.

"Oh, hullo.  Uh, yeah.  I'm busy right now."  He wriggled underneath my touch.

It hit me.  It was a woman.  I didn't react the way, in retrospect, I would have thought I 
would.  I was actually embarrassed for Kiefer.  He was trying so hard to melt down 
through the bed and disappear into the floor.

"Uh, yeah.  I'm fine.  You?  Well, maybe."  A pause as the other person said something.

"I'm in Georgia with my family.  Yeah.  Well, I dunno.  Look, I'm busy, like I said.  I 
really have to go now, 'kay?"

A slight pause, and then he ended the conversation.

"Yeah.  Okay.  'Bye."

Had Kiefer not been so obviously in pain, I would have laughed.  He looked so pitiful.  
His eyes held questions and apologies.  It was so unnecessary, and I tried to let him know 
instantly.

"Kiefer, it's . . . "

He interrupted.

"Jossey, I am so sorry.  I had no idea who was on the phone or I wouldn't have . . . "

I reached for and gently placed my palm against Kiefer's cheek.  I smiled and looked 
straight into his eyes.

"You can't control who calls you, Kiefer.  Don't be silly.  I'm not upset."

He wasn't convinced.  It was as if he were holding his breath, waiting for me to explode.  
He blinked his eyes slowly and continued to survey my face.

I moved my hand down to his chin and squeezed my fingers into his face.

"Why don't you believe me?  I don't blame you, Kiefer.  Who dials your number is out of 
your control."

"I'm sorry.  Really."

"Okay."  I gave him a quick hug.  "It's fine.  Really."  

I resumed my hug, and Kiefer placed his arms around me.  We remained in an embrace 
for several minutes.  I tried to convey through my touch that all was well.  Finally, I knew 
it was time to get him on his way.

"Hey," I said, as I pulled away, halfheartedly, from Kiefer's warm body.

"You better get ready.  Don't wanna keep Rachel waiting."

Kiefer's eyes locked onto mine for several seconds, then he rolled out of bed and headed 
to the shower.  I took Kiefer's duffel bag into the bathroom.  When he got out, he thanked 
me for bringing in the bag and gave me a quick hug.  I grabbed the robe hanging on the 
hook behind the door and left so he could get dressed.

When he came out, Kiefer walked over to me, wearing still the apologetic face.  I didn't 
know what else to do to let him know that I was not upset.  I was at a loss.

"I won't leave if you don't want me to."

"Kiefer.  Please.  I don't know what to say to you to make you certain that everything's 
all right.  Of course I want to be with you - but more than that I want you to be with your 
family while you have the chance."

Suddenly, it struck me how I might allay his fears.

"Now get outta here, pirate-boy!  If you don't, I'll have to spank you again!"

Kiefer didn't laugh out loud, but he instantly gave me a grateful, lopsided smile.  The 
levity had hit its mark.  He looked relieved and, as he opened the door, he assured me that 
he'd see me at dinner.

"By the way," he winked, "don't go lookin' for any pirates.  Save it for me!"

"No way," I retorted.  "I'm looking for a pirate with a parrot!"

Kiefer stopped his forward movement, turned to me with a truly evil grin on his face, and 
made his own rejoinder.

"Forget a pirate with a parrot.  I got somethin' better.  I got a cock-a-tiel!"  Oh, how he 
emphasized the "cock" in the word!

And with that he was gone.

I took a hot bath, dressed, and decided to walk along the beach for a bit while I ruminated 
about the events of the day.  I was happy, but there were unsettled feelings swirling 
around inside my head.  I thought the walk might help me sort out these confused 
thoughts, and I spent near a half-hour strolling the beach.

As I neared the steps to the big house, the steps that less than a day before had led me to 
the beach and the delightful, moonlit evening with Kiefer, I looked up to see Shirley 
descending them.  

"Hi, Shirley.  How are you today?"  I smiled, happy for the company.

I was happy for only a moment.  I was about to hear from Shirley how, as we say in the 
South, the cow ate the cabbage.

                                                                        **
Tom headed to the beach.  He had time to take a nice walk before the kids and his wife 
awoke from their naps.  He had no idea that he would stumble on his mother and Jossey 
in conversation.  Or better put, his mother in conversation.

"Don't try to hide it.  I know what's going on.  I'm not blind.  You've slept with him.  I 
know it.  But it won't do.  Listen to me."

"I'm listening.  Go ahead."

"You are not right for my son.  Period.  You're too old.  I don't want you with him.  It's 
that simple."

"Shirley.  Why are you saying these things?  I like Kiefer.  I always have.  You know 
that.  Why are you talking to me this way?  It's like you're warning me or something." 

"I'm not warning you.  I'm not threatening you.  I'm giving you the facts.  I'm telling 
you that you are not the one for my son.  Forget it.  He needs someone other than you."

"Shirley.  Don't you think Kiefer is a better judge of what he wants or needs?"

"Of course not.  He's a child.  He doesn't know what's right for him.  I do.  And you're 
not it.  Jossey.  I like you.  I hoped we could be friends for a long time.  But no more.  I 
want you out of my life and I want you out of my son's life.  If not, I'll make your life 
miserable.  I can do it.  Don't wonder about it."

"What do you mean miserable?  You really are threatening me?  With what?"

"It means you'll not have a moment's peace.  I have nothing else I have to do."

I knew Shirley had no true malice within her.  She believed, earnestly, that she had her 
son's best interest at heart.  She would not hurt me.  One thing I did know - this was not 
a time to push her limits.  Although not vicious, she would follow up on her words.

Her words had also sparked questions in my mind.  Was it not perhaps better for Kiefer 
that I disappear?  I was not, in any fashion, what I presumed was his usual fare.  
Admittedly, I found his profession fascinating, but that was not why I was attracted to 
him.  I'd been attracted to him the instant I first laid eyes on him in that Texas rodeo 
arena.  Frankly, the whirlwind of his life was a bit daunting to me.  The whirlwind of the 
past twenty-four hours.

"Shirley," I finally spoke, "I think you're overreacting.  You heard me before.  I like 
Kiefer.  I would never do anything that I thought would hurt him.  Nothing.  I'm also 
very sad that you wish to end our relationship - mine and yours.  I've enjoyed your 
company.  I admire your drive - your vision."

I dared not add that I thought her personal vision was stunted.  It was true, though, that I 
greatly admired her public vision.  She had done, and would continue to do, wonderful 
things.  With regard to Kiefer, however, perhaps other of her loved ones as well, she was 
not as clear-sighted.  They were not beneficiaries of the vision Shirley carefully gave to 
her civic duties.

"Jossey, I'm not happy about this either.  I liked you.  But I love my son.  I believe it's in 
his best interest for you to excuse yourself from his life.  And from mine.  Please don't 
make this more difficult than it already is.  Bow out gracefully.  With dignity."

Lord, she certainly knew how to put a dramatic spin on things.  She probably thought her 
line of rhetoric actually had something to do with my decision to leave.  But it didn't.  I 
wasn't thinking of Shirley.  Nor of me.  Well, maybe a little of me.  Mostly I was 
thinking of Kiefer.  Giving him some space, some time, might be good for him.  And for 
me, too.

I determined not to drag this out any longer.  If Kiefer chose not to contact me, then 
Shirley had made the right call and it would save trouble all the way around.  If he did try 
to contact me, then I had some time to think about how to react.  I looked Shirley 
squarely in the eyes.  She flinched ever so slightly.

"As you wish."

I turned and headed up the stairs on my way back to my room to pack my belongings.

Behind me, I heard Shirley's voice.

"I'll have a cab waiting for you.  It's the least I can do."

I considered telling her that I could get my own fucking transportation, but changed my 
mind.

"Yes, it is," I calmly uttered in my haughtiest voice.

I kept walking, not turning around to see the look on her face.  But I wished I could have 
seen it.

As I made my way back to my cottage, I began a conversation with myself concerning 
my current situation.  There were good reasons, not Shirley's, to encourage my departure.  
To begin, it was never a good idea to get between a person and his or her parent.  
Although Kiefer would probably not agree with his mother's assessment of "suitability" 
concerning any short or long termed relationship between us, I could not, with honesty, 
deny that she had a point.  His age was such that a marriage and, perhaps, more children 
would be appropriate - appropriate, at least, in the eyes of many.  I was unfazed by her 
reference to my age.  I was not that much older.  It was irrelevant to me.

Second, there was the consideration of his fishbowl lifestyle.  Pried into.  Scrutinized.  
Decidedly not as private as that to which I was accustomed.  This didn't even take into 
account the subtext of this consideration of Kiefer's lifestyle - the detriment that being 
linked to me might have on Kiefer's reputation.  I didn't for a second believe he would be 
bothered by being associated with a decidedly un-Hollywood-type, but those who 
employed him and those who buoyed his career, the media, might use my "unsuitability" 
to do more harm than I was ready to be responsible for.

Third, there were the slightly disquieting moments created by the phone call to Kiefer 
from the woman I'd secretly named "Bambi," an ugly thing on my part, I know, but she 
just had to be a Bambi in order for me to move on.  The phone call had honestly not 
bothered me.  It was the subsequent contemplation of Bambi this afternoon on the beach 
that had unsettled me.  There was probably a shitload of Bambis around the globe who 
claimed much more intimate knowledge of Kiefer than I.  Was I prepared, prepared to 
accept this kind of intrusion and reminder of his "other" life?
 
The final, and perhaps the strongest, reason for my impetus to leave had everything to do 
with me.  Well, almost everything.  I had been unable to shake the feeling concerning my 
seemingly uncontrollable attraction to Kiefer.  It was as if all, and they were 
considerable, of my feelings were crammed into an unmanned freight train plunging 
brakeless down an incalculable precipice.  A mouthful, yes.  But it's the image that came 
unbidden to my mind.

My emotions had been unbridled for about a twenty-four-hour period now.  It was, in 
more ways than one, scary.  First, I'd been down this freight train track before with 
disastrous results.  I hadn't forgotten the lessons learned from those previous experiences.  
Second, it was a bit unsettling to recognize that another person had a measure of 
"control" over me, albeit an unintentional one.

It would be wise on my part to put some distance and time between me and this 
intoxicating man who'd become my focus this week.  Sure.  Even before his overtures, I 
had spent my time studying Kiefer in an attempt to know him more fully.  I had never, 
never in my most unfettered dreams, imagined that I would end up in the intimate 
situations that I'd enjoyed today.

These were the ruminations that occupied my mind as I mechanically stuffed everything 
into my luggage and readied myself to leave.  True to her word, Shirley had made sure 
that a taxi was parked curbside when I exited the cottage that I'd called mine for the last 
two days.  Honestly, I was not sad.  My fear was that my delightful memories would be 
marred if I tarried.  At this point, I had nothing but joy to carry back with me to my 
home.  That wasn't bad.

**

Tom turned away from his mother and Jossey as Jossey headed up the stairs.  He'd been 
near the head of the stairs out of sight behind a large column during the conversation and 
now headed even farther out of sight.  His mother had threatened her, and he'd have to 
tell Kiefer, but it had been hard on his heart to hear his mother's words.  As Tom walked 
away, he retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and punched #3, Rachel.  Before the 
phone rang in, he heard these words behind him.

"Tom.  Put that phone back in your pocket."

"Mom."  Tom was surprised at hearing his mother's voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I saw you skulking around up here when I was talking to Jossey.  But I know 
what's right for your brother.  Do not call him.  I have things under control."

Oh, yeah, Tom thought.  You know what makes him happy.  Just like you knew what 
would make me happy.

He chuckled bitterly to himself and thought about his life.  Yes, he was happy.  Happily 
miserable.  He had beautiful children.  A kind and caring wife.  All was well.  But there 
was no passion in his life.  No excitement.  No surprise.  He knew Kiefer.  Better than 
she.  He didn't need what she wanted for him.  He'd always admired his little brother for 
getting out, for escaping.

"Mom, you . . . "

"Tommy.  I know what's good for him.  Put the phone up!"

He closed the phone, replaced it in his pocket.  He had to think.  Think what he would do.

**

When Kiefer arrived, Shirley went straight to the car to accompany him inside.

"You timed it just right, darling.  Dinner's ready in ten minutes.  Did Rachel get on all 
right?"

"Sure.  Everything's fine."

"Come sit with me, dear, before we eat.  Let's catch up.  I haven't seen enough of you 
this week."  Shirley ushered her son towards the sofa and sat down, Kiefer following her 
lead.

Kiefer leaned over and gave his mother a hug.  He hadn't indulged her enough the past 
two days.  He needed to catch up.  His quick embrace and even quicker smile melted 
Shirley's heart and for a split second she worried about her choice concerning Jossey.  
But only for a split second.  

"So, what's in your future?"  She smiled at her baby boy.

Kiefer chuckled.  "Whaddya mean, Mom?  You mean like I'm a fortune teller?  No can 
do.  I have no idea what the future holds."  He smiled again.  "I like it that way!  I like 
surprises!"

Tom, on the other side of the room, wondered what his brother would think of the 
surprise he'd get any moment now.

"I guess that's not what you meant though, was it?"

"No, silly.  I meant what's on your schedule?  What plans do you have?  For work.  Or, 
for play.  Taking any time off?"

Kiefer thought this an odd question considering that he was taking time off as she spoke.

"Oh, you know me, Mom.  I have lots of things going on.  No rest for me.  I rust when I 
sit still too long."  As if to prove the point, Kiefer stood and started pacing around the 
room.

As he paced, he surveyed the room's occupants.  Two missing - Rachel and Jossey.  He 
knew where Rachel was.  But what of Jossey.  He laughed quietly to himself.  Probably 
in her room napping.  Perhaps that would have been an enjoyable way to have spent the 
afternoon had he not escorted his sister to the airport.

"Jossey's not here.  We can't eat without her.  I'll give her room a call."  Kiefer headed to 
the phone on the table near the entryway.

Shirley stood abruptly.

"No, sweetheart.  You don't need to call."  Shirley made her way to her son's side and 
gently took his arm.

"Jossey's  not here.  She had to leave.  Got called away."

"What?" Kiefer's voice was a screech.  Chalk on the board.  He'd been gone only a bit 
over two hours.

"Whaddya mean she had to leave?  Called by whom?  For what?"

Kiefer's agitation translated itself to his body movements.  He jerked his limbs as he 
walked away from his mother and started a circle around the large room.

Suddenly he stopped still.  He reached into his pocket and fished out his cell phone.  Her 
number was on it.  Under received calls.  When Shirley divined what he was about to do, 
she rushed to him again.

"Kiefer, it's no use.  She's gone.  I'm sure she had her reasons.  You don't need to call 
her.  I mean, she didn't owe you anything but thanks for the invitation and she told me to 
tell you how much she enjoyed it."

Something didn't feel right.  Kiefer's bones told him that Jossey wouldn't leave without 
saying goodbye to him.  Yesterday, today - they'd been too good for her to just walk 
away.  Hmmm.  Or maybe they weren't.  Maybe she didn't feel the same.  Kiefer became 
very still again as he entertained the notion that perhaps she left so she didn't have to hurt 
his feelings by telling him that she just didn't feel as good about today as did he.

Shirley carefully watched her son.  He was going through some thought process.  He 
sometimes did this - left the room even though he was there.

Kiefer absently shook his head side-to-side.  No, he said to himself.  Once, and then 
again.  She couldn't have faked that.  Couldn't have faked those smiles, those laughs, 
those touches.  He felt unsure though.  Was it the cell phone call?  Was it leaving with 
Rachel?  No.  She'd made it clear that she was fine about both.  Maybe we moved too 
fast.  Yeah.  That was it.  Should've slowed down a bit. 

Tom stared at his brother, watching him think.  Seeing him draw a conclusion.

Kiefer, still holding the phone, flipped it open, pushed a few buttons, and held it to his 
good ear.  One ring, two, three, four.  Voicemail.  Damn.  

"Hey.  It's Kiefer.  Didn't you like the accommodations?  I'll call back later."  He smiled 
into the phone.

His brother, in the corner, winced.  He got the feeling Jossey would avoid Kiefer for as 
long as she could.  And then, he wasn't sure if she'd tell him about their mother.  She 
didn't seem to want to rock the boat.  So that left him.  Him to be the bearer of truth to his 
brother.  If he could find the balls to tell him.  He lived too close to his mother to put up 
with her wrath.

Tom's reverie was broken by his brother's fist in his belly.  A childhood leftover.  Kiefer 
delighted in play-punching Tom in the stomach.  Quickly, Tom bent over in mock pain.

As he looked up into Kiefer's laughing eyes, he felt remorse as he uttered the words,  
"You got me, bro.  You win."  Shirley stared into Tom's eyes from across the room.

Kiefer gave his brother a bear hug and put his arm around his shoulder, leading him to the 
dining room.

The older brother bit his lower lip, swallowed hard, and allowed his baby brother to lead 
him into dinner.  Time would tell what Tom would do or not do, say or not say.

**
Jossey had turned off her cell phone as she entered the airport.  There were not many 
things she hated more than the loud use of cell phones in public spaces.  Before turning it 
off, she'd changed the message to "Hi, I'm at the airport and looking to head home to 
Texas.  Leave a message and I'll get back with you later."  It was not until she landed 
safely at DFW International Airport, turned on her cell phone, and completed a call to her 
friend Kathryn to come and pick her up that she listened to her messages.  A smile lit her 
face as she heard the last part of the newest voicemail, Kiefer's voice saying, "I'll call 
back later."  With a bounce in her step, she headed to the luggage carousel and 
considered what she would say when he called.