Georgia-Better Known as Heaven
Chapter 2

The evening brought heaven -- heaven in Georgia.  Sure enough, during the soup course 
at the evening meal, Kiefer rose and excused himself, saying he'd forgotten to make a 
very important phone call and that he'd return very shortly.  On his way back to his seat, 
presumably after making a call, he managed to lean over a cousin, seated next to me, and 
delivered a folded sheet of paper to my lap.  I felt silly.  Good silly.  Like a junior high 
school girl getting notes passed to her in homeroom.

When prudent, I placed my hand into my lap, grasped the edge of the paper and managed 
to flip it open with my thumb.  I read "the plan."  It went like this:  after dessert, refuse 
coffee.  If asked, say you're full and you need a stroll.  You don't have to say it loudly, 
just let those around you know.  Exit the dining room and go through the foyer to the 
grand staircase.  Go up the staircase to the second floor and enter the first bathroom on 
the left.  More instructions will be inside the upper left-hand drawer in the vanity.

I smiled.  He was playing a game.  No need for all of these instructions, but it was going 
to be fun to follow them through, I was sure.  The meal, though superb, seemed endless.  
I'd never known it to take so long until the dessert course.  Dutifully, after finishing most 
of the luscious pear flambé, I excused myself to my neighboring diners and headed for 
the second-floor bathroom.  I admit to a thrill in playing this little game.  My hand 
trembled a bit as I reached for the drawer-pull and gently slid open the drawer.  As my 
eyes lit on the folded paper within, I suddenly felt very silly.  Good lord, Jossey.  You're 
an idiot.  Stop behaving like a teenager.  You're an adult.  

My admonition to myself was not very effective.  I excitedly reached for and opened the 
note.  It provided the following instructions:  make your way back downstairs to the 
kitchen.  Ask for Del.  Tell him that you're there to pick up the package.  When you have 
the package in your possession, exit the kitchen via the poolside French doors and make 
your way to the stairs leading to the dunes.  You will find a rock on the ground at the 
bottom of these stairs and under it will be more instructions.

I giggled.  Smooth outloud.  Then I laughed.  This was fun.  I tried to imagine Kiefer 
writing out these notes and giving "Del" a package.  It was too funny.  I made my way 
downstairs to the kitchen and asked for Del, half expecting everyone in the kitchen, and 
there were at least seven people in there, either to laugh at me or regale me with looks of 
derision.  Neither happened.  The young lady of whom I'd asked the question simply 
pointed to a young man across the room.  I advanced, asked if he were Del, received an 
affirmative response, and queried him about a package.  Oh, yes, he replied.  I have it for 
you.  He retrieved a square package, about sixteen inches by sixteen inches and half that 
deep, and handed it to me.  It was wrapped in beautiful burgundy damask and was 
slightly heavy.

I thanked the young man and headed to the doors leading to the pool.  I couldn't wait for 
the next set of instructions and nearly flew down the stairs leading to the dunes.  As I 
stood on the bottom rung of the staircase, I bent over to set down the box and remove my 
shoes.  Dropping them to the side of the stairs, I looked for my next set of instructions.  
Sure enough, to my right was a rather obtrusive rock and underneath it yet another folded 
note.  I laughed when I read the first line which was set off from the remainder of the 
note:  do you feel sneaky yet?

The remaining instructions called for me to travel straight from the staircase to within 
fifteen feet of the shoreline and make a left.  I was then to travel along the beach until I 
reached a large black bag which I was to open carefully.  I followed the instructions and 
spotted the bag long before I reached it.  The long summer days provided light until a bit 
after nine in the evening, and the near-full moon would continue to bathe the dunes in 
soft yet bright moonlight.  I made myself approach the bag unhurriedly and took my time 
placing the package on the sand before opening the bag, just in case Kiefer was watching 
and found me too eager. 

My fingers stumbled over the plastic tie.  The bag was, as I'd recognized when getting 
nearer, a large lawn and leaf bag.  The tie undone, I started pulling the top of the bag 
open and suddenly Kiefer stood up from what must have been a kneeling position and 
poked his arms and head through the opening.  I jumped back, scared and laughing at 
once.  As I tumbled back and down, I flailed my arms trying to catch myself.  My palms 
hit the sand and my bottom, barely grazing the sand, shot forward.  The short black 
spandex-enhanced dress worked its way up to near my waist in the back as I slid across 
the grainy surface.  I was a bit put out that my backside was now covered in sand and 
hurting a bit from the scraping.  Kiefer, however, was enjoying the sight immensely, even 
though from the front only, his body heaving in laughter as he extricated himself fully 
from the bag.

"You creep," I screamed.  "Now I have sand all over my backside and my hands." 

"Well, let me help you brush it off," Kiefer managed to spit out in the midst of his 
laughing fit as he reached down with his right hand, took my outstretched left one, and 
helped me to a standing position as I reached behind and tugged the back of my dress 
down with my free hand.

I was quite sure the dress looked a mess in the places where I'd made contact with the 
sand.  As Kiefer's right hand continued to steady my forearm, his left went to my 
backside where he began vigorously to brush me off.  I was giggling and moved my free 
arm and hand behind me to assist in the cleaning.  

"Oh, give it up," I finally got out in a breathless voice.  I was weak from laughing and 
from Kiefer's touch.  I was in danger of dropping to the sand again, so I reached my hand 
back around and took hold of Kiefer's shoulder to steady myself.  His laughter was 
subsiding, too, and he stopped trying to get the sand off my dress.  

"I'll get you a new one.  It was my fault."

"Oh, goodness.  It's just sand.  I'll eventually get it out."

Kiefer gave a muffled laugh.  I could see the grin on his face in the dusky light.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin'," he returned.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I was wondering how you were gonna get the sand out of your undies!  I know your 
dress slipped up when you went down.  I saw it!"  He continued to snicker.

"Oh, you wanna know that, do you?  I got news for you, buddy.  I don't wear underwear.  
The sand is on my flesh, not a pair of panties!"

The light from the setting sun was still bright enough to allow me a decent view of 
Kiefer's expressive face.  Upon delivering the knowledge that I wore no panties, Kiefer 
became very still, but his face underwent some amazing changes.  At first, his eyes 
widened and his mouth went slack, slightly opened.  Then his eyes narrowed, his lips 
clamped together, and he uttered a soft, guttural noise.  Following this, Kiefer's face 
became very animated.  Through a smile, he asked the following.

"No shit?  No underwear?  Can I see?"

How impertinent, I thought.

"Of course you can't see!  You are the reason I'm covered in sand and you don't deserve 
to see.  In fact, you deserve a spanking, young man!  And don't think I won't deliver it if 
you continue to irritate me!"

Oh.  The face went through another series of changes. 

The eyes became slits of intensity.  The nostrils flared.  The lips tightened together, then 
he bit the lower one.  He stared at me in a way that sent chills all over my body.  Surely I 
was visibly shuddering.

Kiefer blinked.  Blinked again.  Then his chin went up and the eyes returned to their 
normal size.  An evil smile replaced the clinched lips.

"Spank me, huh?" he growled.  "You think you're big enough to do that?"

The stare, the evil smile, the growl . . . I was surprised at my own quick response, 
wondering how I'd found voice.

"Oh, yes.  I'm big enough all right."  We were about eighteen inches to two feet apart.  I 
leaned my upper body toward him and continued.

"And I assure you that it'll be a spanking you won't soon forget!"  God, had I actually 
said it?  Jeez.  As I was speaking, I was imagining myself bringing my eager palm down 
on one of his what I envisioned as firm butt cheeks, feeling him squirm beneath the hand, 
hearing him moan with desire.  Oh.  I knew I'd drawn an audible breath.  I don't know if 
Kiefer heard it.  His breathing had become audible as well.

I glanced away quickly, then back.  "Sorry," I said softly.  I got a little more carried away 
than I intended."

Kiefer smiled, a flicker of mischief remained in his eyes.

To cover my discomfort,  and I was uncomfortable . . . pleasantly, of course . . . I 
swallowed and asked about the package.

"Ah.  The package.  Yes."  Kiefer turned to the now empty black bag, seeking the 
package on the sand.  He walked over, picked it up, and sat on the bag, motioning with 
his hand for me to follow.  I did.  Reluctantly.  My inner thighs, I noticed, had become 
more than damp.  In fact, some infernal internal faucet had turned on and was running 
rampant.  

The package perched on Kiefer's outstretched legs.

"Wanna open it?" he asked.

"No, you open it," I replied.

He carefully removed the cloth from the box, but turned slightly to place the now 
uncovered box on my lap as he thrust aside the damask and instructed me to remove the 
top.  I did.  Inside nestled in tulle was a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two lovely wine 
glasses festooned with what seemed miles of thin satin ribbon.  It was very elegant.  I 
sighed with pleasure.

"You like?" Kiefer inquired.

"Very much.  It's lovely.  Just lovely.  Thanks for thinking of this."  I paused briefly, but 
continued.  "I loved the game, too.  It was fun."  I looked at him and smiled my 
appreciation.

"Yeah.  It was fun.  Shall I open the wine?"

I nodded assent, staring off at the water and the soft light reflecting off its surface. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"What?  The wine?"

"The water, silly.  The water."

Kiefer looked up, followed my line of sight.

"Yes, yes it is.  The light makes it sparkle."

Kiefer attended to the bottle and within a moment or two handed me one of the filled 
glasses.  He leaned the bottle against the side of the box, took up the glass that had rested 
between his legs, and raised it as for a toast.  I raised mine.

"To moonlight on the Georgia coast," he said and clinked my glass.

"To you," I said, "in heartfelt gratitude for allowing me to come on this trip.  I thank 
you."

He smiled, we both raised our glasses, and then began to drink.  I didn't need any wine.  I 
was drunk, positively heady, with excitement. 

We were silent for a moment or two, shoulder to shoulder, sipping wine and staring at the 
beautiful water.  I couldn't think of anything to make the moment more perfect.  The 
breeze blew the fresh scent of the water our way, filling my nostrils along with the smell 
of Kiefer's cologne.  Although not touching, I could feel the warmth from his body next 
to mine.  Finally, Kiefer spoke.

"You know, we said we were gonna walk the beach.  Will you be mad if we don't?  I 
mean, we can if you want to.  But I kinda like just sitting here, too."  He turned to me as 
he finished up.

I was smiling at him.  Should I just blurt out that we could be cleaning toilets and it 
would be okay as long as I was with him?  Nah.  Better leave that unsaid.  But something 
of that must have shown on my face.

"What's so funny," he asked.

"Truth?"

Kiefer laughed.

"Well, that would be refreshing."

"Refreshing," I echoed.  "What does that mean?  Aren't you accustomed to the truth?"

"Just tell me what you were laughing at, okay?"

"Well, you asked if it were all right to just sit, to not walk on the beach."  I paused 
briefly.  He was still turned toward me.  

"And . . . " he said with inflection, indicating he wanted me to finish the thought.

"And, truth be told, I wouldn't care what we were doing or where we were doing it.  I'm 
enjoying just being with you."

"Hmmm.  But that's not funny," he said as he shook his head.  "Where's the truth?"  He 
challenged me.

"I thought to myself that as long as you were with me we could even be cleaning toilets 
and it'd be fine."

His face widened in a smile.

"Okay.  That's kinda funny."  He thought for a second and continued.  "I suppose we 
could go up to the house and clean some toilets-there are plenty of 'em up there!"

"Oh, stop it.  You know what I mean."

Kiefer's head turned back to the water.

"Yeah.  I know what you mean.  I'd clean a toilet with you anyday."

I laughed and Kiefer turned around again, not just his face but this time shifting his whole 
body and crossing his ankles in front of him.  He remained in his dinner clothes minus the 
jacket, but was barefoot.  I shifted around, too, but with both legs tucked to one side so as 
not to expose my godgiven goodies.  Sticky goodies, at this point. 

"You feel like talking," I inquired.  "Or would you rather just sit?"

"Why don't we have our other glass of wine," Kiefer asked.  "We can talk if the mood 
strikes us."

"All right," I said.  But I already had something I wanted to talk about.  I held out my 
glass while he refilled it and waited for him to empty the bottle's contents into his.  I was 
silent for what seemed ages, but I'm sure it was only a minute or two.  I felt that this 
roller coaster were moving forward and I wanted to know things before the ride reached 
its screaming peak.

"Kiefer, can we talk about the elephant on the beach?"

"What?" Kiefer laughed.  "Elephant?  What are you talking about?"

"You know, like the proverbial elephant in the room.  The unspoken thing."

"Ohhhhhh," he uttered as he shook his head up and down.  "But we're on the beach.  
Okay.  I get it."

I did not, however, jump right in.  I was thinking about how I wanted to approach the 
subject I wanted to discuss.  Kiefer didn't press me.  He seemed to divine that I was 
framing my words.

Finally, I determined to speak.

"Kiefer.  I'm simply going to be straight.  For me, being straight and telling the truth cuts 
down on wasted time and miscommunication."

Kiefer's eyes narrowed.  "How unwomanly of you!" he declared.

I tapped his arm in mock anger.  "Oh, stop it.  I mean it.  I just want to get something out 
of the way."

He nodded.

"The elephant," I said.  "The elephant is sex."

Kiefer blinked slowly, then cocked his head to one side, then returned it to its original 
position.

"I thought you said you loved sex."

"I do, I do.  This isn't so much about sex as it is all the stuff that goes with it," I tried to 
explain, though not successfully.  He remained a bit puzzled.

I was suddenly, for no apparent reason, for no discoverable reason, quite sure that I'd 
dreamed the entire afternoon and evening and that he looked at me in this way because he 
had no intention of ever doing anything more with me than cleaning those toilets.  I'd 
dreamed everything surely.  He wasn't interested in my boobs, hadn't lingered a bit too 
long on my rear end trying to remove the sticky sand, hadn't given me a look to melt the 
polar ice cap when I'd mentioned a spanking.

"Oh, dear, and oops," I quietly exclaimed.  "I've done it again and I'm not even Britney 
Spears." 

"Done what," Kiefer asked with a giggle and a shake of his head.

"Started down a road that is leading to the wrong destination!  Somehow I got the idea 
that you might be a bit interested in me and I was going to initiate a discussion about 
sex."  I shook my head.  "I'm sorry," I said, looking straight at Kiefer.  "I don't know 
what got into me."

Now Kiefer looked even more confused.

"You get the impression I'm *not* interested in sex," he almost screamed.

I looked at him questioningly.  "You mean," I paused for a second, "you are?"

"Of course I'm interested.  I thought we were clear on that."  He thought briefly and 
shook his head side-to-side.  "No, no I didn't mean just sex.  I mean I'm interested in 
you.  And sex, well, sex just . . . "

I shook my head again and sighed loudly.  I reached out my left hand and placed it on 
Kiefer's cheek, allowing my ring finger to lightly trace the outline of his ear.  When I 
returned my hand to my lap, he spoke again.

"For two people so willing to tell the truth we sure seem confused."

I laughed.

Kiefer laughed softly, too, and shook his head before he spoke.

"Not interested, eh?  Man.  I was interested, have been interested, for a long time."  

Kiefer looked at me with a sly smile.

"But I've been more than interested, crazy in fact, since the underwear revelation.  I 
cannot believe that you're sitting this close to me with no underwear on . . . " and his 
voice trailed off as he continued shaking his head.

"Oh, you never know.  I may have been lying."  I tried to ease the tension.

"Oh, no.  You were telling the truth," Kiefer shook his head up and down.  "I could see it 
in your eyes.  I have no doubt that if I reached over right now . . . " and Kiefer's hand 
headed to my knees.

"Stop it," I screamed in counterfeit terror and playfully pushed his hand away.

We stared at one another.  But it wasn't an uncomfortable stare; indeed, it was rather 
nice.  We finished the wine and Kiefer placed the glasses back in the box.  I determined 
to speak of the elephant.

"I'm not sure what came over me.  Suddenly this whole day seemed so unreal.  I can't 
explain it really."  I halted in order to take a deep breath and prepare for resuming the 
conversation.

"So, the elephant is sex and that's what I want to talk about for a moment or two.  You 
know.  Just in case this heads in that direction."  Kiefer repositioned his legs, appearing 
to make himself more relaxed.

"I want to provide you with some background so you'll be . . . at ease . . . y'know . . . 
about my sexual history."  I stopped to see how he was taking the introduction.  He 
blinked, waiting for me to continue.

"I told you this afternoon that I'm not, well, promiscuous.  My last relationship ended 
about six months ago, and, in honesty, I've not had sex since then."  I paused to assess 
Kiefer's reaction and a slight grin flickered across his lips.

"No sex at all?" he grinned, raising one eyebrow.

I laughed softly.  I understood what he meant.

"Well, not with another person.  I can't say I've not made myself happy a time or two or 
three."

"Ah. Now she's being truthful," he said as he nodded up and down.

"Anyway," I continued, "I wanted you to know that I've never had a sexually transmitted 
disease.  I'm clean."  With that, I completed one nod of my head to signal that I was 
through.  Then it occurred to me that I'd screwed up again.  My face translated my 
sudden fear.  Damn the bright moonlight.  He'd caught the look.

"What now?" Kiefer laughed.

"Oh, I just wanted you to know about me.  I mean, I'm not angling to get you to say 
anything.  I just wanted to volunteer the info so you'd . . . " and I trailed off because 
Kiefer was silently laughing at me, eyes dancing in his face.

"Well, of course you wanna know these things about me, too.  You'd be crazy not to!"  
He paused, but continued almost immediately.  "And birth control?  What's your method 
of choice?  Are you on a form of the pill?"

I looked him in the eyes, a smile playing across my face.

"No birth control, Kiefer.  Don't have the parts anymore, if you know what I mean.  No 
need for birth control."

Kiefer blinked, stared, blinked again.  Then he uttered one word very slowly and drawn 
out.

"Cooooooooooollllll."

I laughed.

"Cool, huh?"

As Kiefer shook his head up and down he turned it back to the water and then shifted his 
body again to follow.  I now stared at his silhouette.

"Very."  Pause.  "No condoms."  Pause.  "No diaphragms."  Pause.  "No morning trips to 
the doctor's office."  Pause.  "Heaven."

After this, he didn't speak, but it was fine.  I enjoyed the silence and enjoyed staring at 
him without his knowledge, his mind a million miles away.

In profile, Kiefer looked unbelievably like his father.  I was suddenly seeing scenes from 
Desert Saints right before my eyes.  He sat very still.  The eyelashes, thick and long, 
almost brushed his cheeks as he slowly blinked.  I don't know how long it was before he 
spoke.  It didn't matter.

When he finally did speak again, the voice was low, mesmerizing.

"I don't know how much you know about me."  He shook his head.  "No, not right.  I 
don't know what you've read or heard about me."  There was a lengthy pause and he 
spoke to the water before him.  "I've trusted you from almost the beginning."  He glanced 
very briefly at me and turned his head forward again.  "My mom trusts you.  I know you 
talk with her.  She talks with you."  He paused and licked his lips.

"My mother does not offer up kind words easily about people.  She thinks you're a good 
egg, as she puts it."  He looked at me again, briefly, smiling.

"So . . . I trust you.  And you didn't have to tell me you weren't promiscuous.  I knew 
that already.  If you had been, you'd have offered yourself to me or someone I know by 
now.  Besides, men know these things.  At least men who have any sense at all know."  
Kiefer took a very long, loud breath.  He then released it in a lingering sigh.

"I won't lie.  Ten years ago I'd have to be telling you that a rooster in a large henhouse 
has little on me."  He gave a short laugh that made his shoulders move. "But . . . 
experience, time, the world . . . they change things, y'know?"  He looked at me for 
affirmation which I provided through a nod.

"Another thing I won't lie about.  Because of my past, well, I have had STDs.  But none 
of the ones that are permanent.  The ones I've had have always been curable through a 
round or two of penicillin or a few good washings with lice soap!"  His shoulders shook 
with soft, self-deprecating laughter, but he continued looking ahead.  There were stories 
in that laughter.  Stories I wanted to hear.

"I'm not as eager to hop into the sack every few minutes the way I once was."  Another 
long, deep breath. 

"In fact, sex doesn't seem to be as important as other things to me anymore."  Kiefer's 
head quickly snapped to look at my face.  He shook his head briskly back and forth, 
saying, "I don't mean that I don't like . . . "

I reached just as quickly with my fingers and placed them on Kiefer's lips to silence his 
protest.

"I understand, Kiefer," I said as I shook my head up and down.  "Sex is a miracle when 
all's well.  But other things help make the sex a miracle."  I lowered my hand.

"I don't want you to think I'm not normal.  I am."  He looked at me, not turning his head 
back around.  He uttered a soft chuckle.  "Maybe too normal."

"Kiefer, I have no doubt that you're normal when it comes to sex.  Jeez.  You don't have 
to apologize for emotional maturity!"  I laughed softly and lightly rubbed his shoulder for 
a second or two.  He looked relieved, returned his gaze to the water.

"So, am I promiscuous?" he asked the night air.  "No, not most of the time.  And, you can 
trust me, I'm clean."

As Kiefer turned to look at me, I rose to my knees and said, "I trust you.  What reason 
could you have to lie?"

A quick smile filled Kiefer's face and there was a lull in the conversation.  "Helllloooo.  
Earth to Jossey.  I'm a man.  I could lie to get to those boobs!"

Kiefer maneuvered his body up and around and on his knees to face me.  We were no 
more than six inches apart.  My breathing was becoming audibly perceptible.  To my 
amazement, so was his.  I suddenly, as if in epiphany, realized that this attraction was not 
just a one-way street.

I offered the only thing that I could.  It was what I was thinking.

"We'll know when the time is right.  Pushing it, going too fast . . . "

Kiefer completed the thought.

" . . .  don't wanna do that."

Then it happened.  Yes.  IT.  The pre-kiss hand movement.  When it happened, I believe 
that all of my organs stopped functioning.  No one who'd ever watched a Kiefer 
Sutherland film in which he'd kissed a woman was unfamiliar with the pre-kiss hand 
movement.  Just like that-up it came.  The right hand on the left side of my face, palm 
resting on the cheek, thumb lightly brushing my lips before it pressed under my chin.  
Oh, god.  Oh, oh, oh.  He's doin' it.  Doin' it to me.  The pre-kiss move.  Where was his 
other hand?  Where?  I had to focus.  It was . . . it was on my back, near the middle, 
pulling by body closer to his.  Mine?  Where were my hands?  Oh, god.  Did I have 
hands?  Yes, yes.  Focus, Jossey.  One hand was on his waist, the other on his neck.  I felt 
the hardness of his body, the heat, as he held me fast.  Now what?  A kiss?

Oh, yes.  A kiss it was.  The kiss.  Kiefer's head tilted, neared my face.  Had I died at this 
very moment it would have been enough.  But I did not die.  Kiefer's lips nibbled at my 
lower one.  Nibbled.  Softly.  Sweet, sweet nibbling and soft sucking.  Then both of his 
lips closed over mine.  I felt the heat.  Heard the breath.  Tasted the wine.

I'm unsure if my knees still made contact with the black plastic bag.  I'm unsure of 
anything except that I'd never experienced a kiss so sweet, so moving.  My body couldn't 
determine which direction to follow:  melt, or shake?   I was lightheaded.  My weakness 
tripled when I became cognizant of Kiefer's shaking.  He, too, was feeling something 
indefinable.  Our lips were not pressing hard against each other-they were melded 
together with a light suction, a connection as light yet strong as the measure of tulle that 
nestled inside the box holding the empty wine bottle and glasses.

My breath seemed in danger of running out.  Were my lungs not working?  I moved my 
head side to side, testing whether the feeling would disappear like so much gossamer.  
The feeling did not disappear, but increased as Kiefer's head followed my movement, the 
hand on my cheek moving behind my head to my neck, holding me even more tightly.  I 
wanted to dissolve into his body, become one. 

Suddenly, as if a missile had been launched from a silo, Shirley's voice split the now hot 
night air.

"Kiefer?  Sweetheart?  Are you down there somewhere?  We're about to start charades!"

A pause before Shirley continued.  The kiss ceased, lips still touching, then mine and 
Kiefer's lips parted, and we pulled away from one another, blinking.

"Kiefer," Shirley resumed.  "You know we can't play without you.  Kiefer?  Your brother 
said he saw you come down here."

Kiefer and I looked at one another in the dusk.  It should have been a time for regret, but 
we both giggled on cue.

"Mamma-radar," Kiefer sputtered quietly before he responded.  " And brother betrayal.  
Wait'll I get my hands on his neck!" 

Kiefer turned his head toward the direction of his mother's voice.

"Yes, Mom.  I'm here.  I'm talking to Jossey." 

"Oh."  The response was a disappointed one.  "Well, tell her to come, too."  A pause.   
"But she's no good at charades!"

Silently we giggled at that, eyes wide, leaning on one another.

"Damn.  You must be really bad at charades!" Kiefer observed.

"I am not," I defended myself.  "Well, not that bad.  She hurt my feelings!"

"Ooooo.  Poor baby.  Poor bad-at-charades baby."

He kissed the top of my head, stroking my hair with his right hand.

I snuggled into his chest, pretend-whimpering.

"I'm not that bad.  I'm just not as good as she is!"

"Oh, not to worry," Kiefer soothed me.  "It's a Douglas thing.  We're taught to play 
charades at an early age-minimum two years old.  We've had lots and lots of practice!"

"Two," I echoed rather loudly.

Kiefer nuzzled his lips near my ear.

"Yeah, two," he whispered.  "Don't worry about her comment.  She's just direct."

I drew away from him with a smile, looking into his eyes.

"Kiefer.  I've known your mom a few years.  I know she's direct.  It didn't bother me.  
I'm not as good at charades as she.  But I'm not lame either!"

He grinned widely.

"You're no Douglas, girl.  But c'mon and do what you can!"

He took my left hand in his right and we ran across the sand toward the staircase.

I suddenly tugged on Kiefer's hand and brought him to a halt.

"What?" he asked.  "What is it?"

"The bag," I replied.  "The bag and the box."

Kiefer's head snapped back to the beach.

"Stay here.  I'll get 'em."

He burst into a run, quickly retrieving the bag, the brocade, and the box and returning to 
my side.

When we reached the staircase, I retrieved my shoes, but decided that my dress, not to 
mention my sand-encrusted buttocks and rather sticky inner thighs, were more than I 
could bear for a lengthy charades game.  I voiced, partially, my thought to Kiefer as we 
climbed the stairs.  When we reached the top, Kiefer placed the box, which now held the 
other items as well, on the ground.  He turned to me and took my forearms in his hands.

"It's family.  I'd rather be with you, talk with you, but I arranged the weekend."

"Oh, Kiefer.  Don't be silly.  Of course you'll join them for charades!  This is a family 
and friends outing."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yes, yes of course.  I'll join in when I've showered and changed."

I paused.

"I mean, if it's okay-if not, I can just watch all of you play charades, or, stay in my 
room."

"Okay?  No, you'll play with us!  Run on and do what ya gotta do.  I gonna brush my butt 
off and go on in.  But you'd better not be too long, or I'll come after you!"

"Hmmm.  Let me help you brush the butt off!"  I reached around and began patting 
Kiefer's rounded ass.  He giggled and reached around taking my hands in his and 
bringing them back in front of him.  He raised my hands, palms together, brought them to 
his mouth, and brushed the edges of my baby fingers with his lips.

"Don't tempt me, woman.  I'll brush off your behind again, this time more carefully now 
that I know, well . . . "

I giggled.

"Hey," I said.  "Where are your shoes?"

"Ah.  They're in the kitchen.  I'll get them on the way in."  A pause.  "Do you want me to 
walk you to your cottage?  I'd be happy to."  And he took my arm and started to head in 
that direction rather than to the kitchen.

"No, no."  I protested.  "I can make it there just fine.  Just fine."  Impetuously, I leaned up 
and quickly kissed Kiefer's lips.

"Hmmm.  That makes me want to walk you home even more!"

As Kiefer leaned down to return the kiss, his mother's voice split the night again.

"Kiefer, what are you doing?  We're waiting for you!" 

"I am going to kill my brother," Kiefer hissed near my face.

He brushed my arm lightly and headed to the kitchen.  He turned his head to face me and 
whispered "hurry" about half way across the flagstone to the French doors.  I nodded and 
headed to the gate in the fence surrounding the pool.

I was staying in the third cottage, the one down the way about a block.  Although a three-
bedroom house, only two were occupied.  I was in one and Collin, one of Kiefer's 
friends, and his wife were in the other.  I entered the house and quickly made my way to 
the second floor where the bedrooms were located.  I went into my room and showered 
and changed in record time.  The beauty of aging has advantages.  I no longer anguished 
over getting ready.  I was soon on my way back to the big house and the game of Douglas 
charades.

When I entered the large parlor, about ten people were engaged in the game.  Several 
more had arranged themselves around the room and either watched the game or were 
engaged in conversation.  Those who were missing were probably already in bed or 
otherwise busy.

I opted to watch the game rather than play, despite Kiefer's verbal and non-verbal 
protests.  It was delightful and enlightening to watch the precision with which they 
played.  Before I knew it, two hours had flickered by.  My eyelids were getting heavy.  I 
was torn between watching charades or heading to my sumptuous bed.  After a quarter 
hour more, my eyelids won.  I motioned to Kiefer during a brief break, letting him know 
that I was leaving.  

"Headed home, Jossey," he asked across the room.

"Yep.  Goodnight, all.  Your skill has my head spinning.  I have to go and get it to slow 
down."

People from all over the room murmured "goodnight" and I headed to the evening's rest.

Soon I settled into the comfortable bed, day-dreaming about the evening's events.  After 
about twenty or so minutes of this pleasant diversion on my way to drifting off, there was 
a tap on my door.

"Yes?" I asked quietly.

No response.  I sat up and turned on the lamp next to the bed.  Another soft knock.

I threw back the covers, put on the robe I'd left at the foot of the bed, and headed to the 
door.

"Yes?  Who is it?"

A husky whisper answered my question.

"It's me.  Kiefer.  Let me in before Collin hears me."

I quickly opened the door and allowed Kiefer to step inside.  He'd changed into a t-shirt 
and jeans.

He turned to face the door, closed it, and fastened the bolt.

"Expecting burglars?" I inquired.

"No," he responded as he turned back to face me.  "I just don't want anyone barging in."

"Kiefer.  It's true that we talked about stuff tonight.  But I'm not sure we're ready for . . "

Kiefer placed his fingers to my lips to signal that I should be silent.

"I'm not here for that."

My eyes, face, must have expressed something that was less than positive.

"No, no," he said.  "I don't mean that I don't want . . . you know, you.  But we did 
discuss this and I think we agreed that it had to feel right."

"Uh huh," I nodded, looking at him in his tight white t-shirt, faded jeans, and bare feet.  
Was beginning to feel too close to "feeling right" as I stared at him. 

"I'm here because I was thinking about you, wanted to be with you.  You know . . .  just . 
. .  well, just be with you.  Is that bad?"

I shook my head side to side, indicating that it was not bad at all.

"I was lying in bed thinking about this evening when you knocked," I admitted.

"You were?  What were you thinking?"

"That it was nice.  That . . . that it was, y'know, very nice."

I smiled at him, hoping that this would convey my feelings more than my lame attempt at 
speech.

He smiled back.

"Sometimes . . . "  His voice trailed off and he looked away briefly, then returned his 
gaze to my face.

"Sometimes I just don't wanna sleep alone.  You know.  Sleep."

His eyes did not leave mine.  His expression, one of inquiry, did not waver.

"So," I replied.  "You," I stopped, took a deep breath, started again.  "You want to, uh . . .  
want to sleep here?  With . . . me?"

He sighed, apparently with a measure of relief.

"Yes," he nodded.  "Exactly.  But I don't want you to think I'm here to ask you for more 
than that.  I'm not.  I just want to sleep with you."

I know he must have taken my lack of response incorrectly.  His facial expression 
conveyed this, but my head was spinning.  My brain was not functioning well.  He must 
have thought I doubted his intentions.

"I mean just what I said," he reiterated.  "Sleep."  There was a pause.  "Is that so 
horrible?  I just want to sleep with you!"

I was experiencing many emotions.  The main one I soon voiced.

"Kiefer.  You may be all right with this, but I don't think I am!"

"Sleep, Jossey.  Sleep."

Kiefer's voice was rising now.  He still misunderstood me.

"No, Kiefer.  You misunderstand.  It's not that I don't want you here.  I want you here 
too much!  You may can just sleep, but I don't know whether I'm that . . . disciplined!"

Kiefer's eyes registered understanding.  He smiled, took my face in his hands.

"I can be disciplined," he winked at me.  "Will be disciplined.  Enough for you and me 
both."

I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head side-to-side.  Kiefer stepped closer and wrapped 
his arms around my waist.

"Well," I murmured.  "You'll have to be strong if you stay.  I just don't think I can be 
that close and . . ."

"It'll be fine.  Trust me," Kiefer whispered in my ear.

"Fine, eh?"

"Uh huh.  Just fine," he said.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from Kiefer.  

"Just fine, huh?  I have on a robe, Kiefer.  I have on a robe because I came to the door 
when you knocked.  I have nothing on under this robe."  I paused to let the words sink in.  
"I have nothing on under this robe because I don't sleep in anything.  How fine is that 
gonna be, buddy?"  I followed this inquiry with a rather wicked smile.

Kiefer's face went slack.  As I'd seen several times this night, he slowly blinked.

"You got nothin' on under that thing?"

I shook my head to and fro.  Slowly.

"Nothin'?" he inquired again.

I slowly shook my head again.

Kiefer turned halfway away from me.  When he turned towards me again, he'd regained 
his composure.

"Okay.  I'm . . . thoroughly . . . ."  Kiefer licked his lips.

I suddenly felt awful for pushing the opportunity I'd seized.  He'd been in earnest about 
sleeping here.

I rushed to Kiefer and threw my arms around his waist, hugging him close to me.  I was 
filled with remorse.

"Oh, Kiefer.  I'm sorry.  That was so horrible of me.  It just . . . well, it just came out.  
I'm sorry.  Please.  Please forget what I said.  You're welcome here.  Welcome."

I stared into his eyes, implored him with my gaze.

He was unconvinced.  I read it in his eyes.

I brought my hands to rest lightly on Kiefer's chest.  I hoped my tenderness translated 
itself through my touch.

"Give me a minute.  I'll find something to sleep in."  I smiled as benignly as I could and 
moved away.

Kiefer caught me, held me.

"I'll go if you want."

"No," I whispered.  "I want you here.  With me.  Sleeping.  I can't think of a more perfect 
way to end this perfect evening."

This time he allowed me to move away and I walked to the dresser to open one of the 
drawers in a search for something to sleep in.  As I heard movement behind me, I located 
a t-shirt and grabbed some panties-underclothing that I did wear when it was not in 
danger of showing through my clothing.  I headed to the bathroom with the garments.  I 
quickly glanced over my shoulder to see that Kiefer was already in bed, his jeans and t-
shirt on the floor.  He lay on the bed in his briefs, no cover over him.  My legs were in 
danger of turning to liquid.

I removed the robe and quickly pulled on the panties and t-shirt.  Vanity made me take a 
quick look into the mirror.  I hurriedly brushed some blush on my cheeks and checked 
my teeth, but I'd just brushed so I felt comfortable with my breath.  I rubbed a bit of gloss 
on my lips and ran the brush through my hair.  Satisfied, I opened the door and made my 
way to the bed.

I turned off the lamp and crawled into bed on the side opposite of where Kiefer lay.  I 
turned on my side and faced Kiefer, delighted that the bright moonlight illuminated his 
form.  I held my hand out to him, an offer he accepted as he took my hand in his.  He 
smiled.  I returned the smile.

"You don't sleep under the covers," I asked Kiefer.

He shook his head negatively.

"Uh uh.  Too hot."

Well, I know that's right, I thought to myself.

"I get too cool if I don't," I explained.  "Do you mind," I inquired as I pulled the sheet up 
over my body.

Another shake of the head.  In fact, he took he edge of the sheet and pulled it to his own 
waist.

I looked into Kiefer's eyes.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening.  It was heaven."

He smiled a lopsided smile.  I was immediately worried, but he soon followed with a 
wink.

"C'mere," he growled.

I wiggled my way over to him, pressing my body against his.

"Is this the way you sleep?  In this position?"

"No, not really," I admitted.  " I usually sleep on my other side."

Kiefer raised his head.

"Turn over.  G'head."

"No."

"No," he returned.  "Why not?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"'Cause I don't wanna turn away from you."

"Silly.  I'm not goin' anywhere.  Turn over and snuggle up."  He lowered his head again 
to the pillow.

I'd be hard pressed to describe how I reacted to this suggestion to snuggle up.  I was 
excited, yes.  But more than that I felt warm and wanted.  It was an overwhelming 
feeling.

I gave Kiefer a lingering look, but turned over as instructed, backing up and allowing my 
curved body to be cupped by his own.  He was so warm, so pliable.  I snuggled my body 
into his, wriggling my butt as I nestled into the perfect position.  Kiefer's chin rested atop 
my head.  Then I heard it.  Yes.  Heard it.  The sniff.  The Kiefer sniff.  His nose so near 
my hair, he must've been smelling it.  I could see the sniff in my mind's eye.

Kiefer's left arm rested lightly around my waist, his right one rested above my head.  My 
left hand entwined his, the forefinger and thumb of my right one grasped the thumb of his 
right hand near my face.  I refused, for some minutes, to shut my eyes.  I believed that if I 
did he'd disappear.  Soon, though, my weary eyelids had their way and closed.

Seconds later a voice of unrefined honey whispered, "G'night, Joss."

I don't know if he heard me, I had little breath, but I whispered back, "G'night, Kiefer."

Kiefer's measured hot breath on my hair soon lulled me into a deep sleep.  But before I 
drifted into dreamland, I counted myself as perhaps the most fortunate woman in the 
world as Kiefer's left hand gave mine a soft, sweet squeeze.