Carlene

Last night, Rome lavished another one of his incredible massages on me, only this time, it was somehow even more erotic than before and ended in not one but two mind-blowing orgasms for me.

We’d been in the mood to celebrate after Rome got a call from Earl’s son to say the doctors had successfully managed to put in a stent and he’s resting comfortably and expected to make a full recovery. Which is great news and somehow helped make up a little for not being able to save Bob.

Perhaps under the influence of a little too many bubbles (so not me!), I even danced around the hotel suite before Rome playfully tackled me to the bed. From there, things just well…escalated.

“Mmm, you’re awake,” he says with a sleepy, sexy voice. His arm reaches across and hauls me back into him. “What are you doing way over there?”

I move willingly, not quite sure what else to do.

“Just waking up, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” I mumble into his neck, where I’ve landed.

The next thing he says stuns me. “Is that something your husband didn’t like as well?” For the past few days, he’s carefully avoided mentioning anything that might have bought up memories with Phillip.

“Because I really love to wake up with a woman in my arms. In fact, if we’re in bed together, I expect it and I get the feeling you’re thinking the opposite.” He starts to run his hand through my hair, and it feels so nice, soothing and comforting.

I’m not sure whether he wants me to talk or not, but not knowing doesn’t work for me either. I’ve gone from waking up to awake in just the time it took for him to haul me across the bed.

“I’m confused. I thought you wanted us to live in the moment. Do you want me to talk about my past or not?” I can’t be more honest than that. My life with Phillip is very much something that nobody really knows about, not the kids, not girlfriends, not even family. They know the outward stuff, but not what really being married to Phillip was like.

“Generally, I prefer to keep things in the moment, Carlene, but I think you need to tell me about the past—particularly after yesterday. There’s a difference. I think you’re going to struggle with the future until you can make peace with the past, whatever it is.”

His skin is warm and smells so good underneath me. It’s distracting me from the real problem—I’m so far out of my depth with Rome. He makes my stomach flutter, and my head is confused in so many crazy but good ways.

“You’re so different to any man I’ve ever known, Rome.” I have no idea what he expects or how I should be with him. Not that I have much experience with men in general, to judge.

“What do you mean? I want to make sure I understand, rather than connecting dots and missing the mark.”

I sigh and roll away from him until I’m staring up at the ceiling and the only contact I have with Rome are his fingers lightly resting on mine. I can’t do this being so connected to him.

How do I go about sharing what my life has been like with Phil for twenty years, with another man? A stranger. Maybe it will be easier because he is a stranger?

“You really want to hear this?”

“I do, Oz. I want to know all of you. And to really know you, I need to understand what’s made you the woman you are today. I saw a bit of what you’re capable of yesterday. Now I need to know your story.”

His words are enough to tip the balance. Unlike anyone else, he asked for it…

“It’s hard to explain, Rome. Before you, the men I’ve always known were men from the land. They’re hard, practical, closed off, tough…both physically and emotionally. There’s no room for any softness there. It’s their way, and that’s the only way in everything. In life. They make a decision and that’s it.” I hazard a glance sideways, and I can see him chewing over my words, trying to understand what I’m telling him. Although, his eyes aren’t giving anything away as to what he’s feeling.

“You have to understand, it’s all about survival out where I came from. We were carving out a living in some of the harshest conditions known to man. Phil would never have thought to ask me how I felt about anything other than something to do with the property or to make sure the household ran as it should. Colanara was our whole life. We lived for that property seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. It’s all consuming. I thought how we were together as a couple was normal. Remember, I grew up that way.”

There’s silence between us for a few seconds.

“When did you realize it wasn’t normal? No, that’s not right,” he immediately corrects himself. “When did you realize there’s more than one type of normal?” he asks gently, and I’m touched that he’s open minded enough to accept my circumstance and is willing to listen.

But how do I explain this? It was very much a case of what I didn’t know, I didn’t know.

“Rome, it’s not so much that I realized it wasn’t normal. It was more a slow awakening that probably started when the kids went away to school. Them being away and how their lives changed, brought a restlessness to ours that seemed to keep escalating.”

“Hang on! What do you mean by the kids went away to school?” I let out a sigh and a pang of guilt rushes through me.

“Exactly that. From the time the kids were twelve they went to boarding school. Once they started secondary school, they had to go to the city, hours away. There just wasn’t the sort of education they needed available out at Colanara.”

I saw his shock, and I wondered if he thought it was a callus thing to do.

“Yup! It just about killed me taking my babies into the city the first time and leaving them there. I knew in my heart it was for the best, but I’d never been separated from them before, and well, it was…awful.” I could feel the tears threatening to fall, and I took a hasty breath to suppress them.

Rome rolls onto his side to look at me closer. “I have to ask, Carlene, is that normal? It seems so young.”

“It may seem surprising, but it’s the done thing with outback kids. There’s just not the education or the opportunities for them in the country. It’s just another sacrifice you have to make for living out there.” As hard as I try, I can’t keep the bitterness from my tone.

“Wow, that must have been so hard on you and your husband, and of course, the kids.”

“Was it hard on me—absolutely. I was lost in my own home for months without them there. Was it hard on Phillip? If it was, you’d have never known.” I watch his eyes go wide at that.

“How could it not be?” he asks, still not getting it.

“Rome, people in the outback, men in particular, never show emotion. They don’t cry, they don’t talk about their feelings or how they miss their kids. It’s some sort of unwritten code. The only thing that’s acceptable to whine about is the drought, the weather, and the price of feed. Everything else is off limits. Somehow, it’s a slight to everyone if you talk about how you really feel—makes you a lesser or weak person or something. Eventually, it’s just easier to turn off all the emotions. If you don’t let yourself feel emotions, you’re not tempted to feel the need to talk about them. And that just saves everyone a bucket load of discomfort.”

He’s shaking his head no at what I’ve just told him. “That’s just so…wrong!” For the first time, I hear outrage in his tone, and I love the fact he’s feeling this on my behalf.

“Right or wrong, it’s how we lived. I know it’s hard to understand, but I’m telling you the absolute truth. It’s just like this massive unwritten rule. We all grow up the same. It’s one of the reasons why, as much as it hurt me to lose them so young, I pushed for the kids to go to boarding school. They were still young enough not to have that sort of burden placed on them. I wanted them to be able to be free to live and explore other lives, besides a cattle station.”

He’s shaking his head again and looking at me as if he can see to my very soul. “That’s a hell of a sacrifice, baby.”

“They’re my children. How could I not want the best for them even if it hurt me for them to get it? I wanted them to have options and opportunities. I wanted them to experience the city and everything life has to offer. That wasn’t going to happen out at Colonara.”

He rolls closer and kisses the point of my shoulder. “So strong, so stoic.”

Stoic is correct. It’s the word often used to describe the outback folk of Australia. We’ve had to be stoic to survive.

Things are different for me, now—I just have to remember it.

Rome

My admiration for her strength has been building the more I’ve got to know her, but this last revelation has me reeling inside. I know her well enough now to begin to fathom just how hard it’s been on her, but I admire her more for going with what she thought best for her kids. The price, I realize, is she’s been dealing with her pain alone.

Rather than shoulder the load together, her husband dealt with his feelings of separation, if he’d even had them, and Carlene dealt with hers. I’ve never been married, but I damned well know this is not what it’s supposed to be about.

We’ve drifted off the track I thought we were going to venture down, but it doesn’t matter. Carlene clearly needs to talk, and I need to listen and understand if I want to truly get to know her.

“So you were telling me about what happened when the kids went away to school.” I bring her back to the place in her story where we digressed. Although, I’m glad we did. I needed to understand about her children to understand her.

I watch her struggle to take a breath, and her voice hitches as she begins. “It went on for years, Rome. Every year was a little worse than the last. The kids became more ingrained and in love with their city school lives. And both are now in medical school.”

“Wow,” I cut in. “You must be so proud of them.”

I watch her eyes go soft with pride and admiration for them. “I am so proud of them. They’re such great kids, so much more than I could ever be.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short, Oz.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t really matter. You know, it was Bob’s death that influenced their decisions to be doctors. They were there on holidays when Bob had the heart attack. It didn’t take much to encourage them to take some first-aid courses after that, and from there, they got a real taste and interest in medicine.”

She gets a little faraway look in her eyes, and I know she’s pouring over memories, more painful than good.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt but I couldn’t help it. I’m impressed by your kids and I haven’t even met them. Such a small percentage of kids get into medical school and both of yours have.” What I don’t add is the moment the words are out of my mouth, I realize I want to meet them.

“It’s fine, and you can be impressed. I certainly am. Anyway, every year, things seemed to get worse and we became more distant. Phillip’s animosity rose higher in proportion to the more he realized the kids weren’t coming back to the property. Plus, we’d been battling yet another drought for three years and money was getting tighter and tighter.

Her hands fly up in exasperation. “We finally reached a crossroads in our lives, decisions needed to be made about our future. With the constant drought, the property was no longer viable. Phil and I drifted apart more and more. Looking back, I guess it started when the kids went to boarding school. And…” The struggle with what she wants to say is real. I can see it plainly on her face, in her eyes and through the tension in her body

Lightly I stroke the back of her hand, trying to offer reassurance and support. “And what?”

I watch her throat close up. And I can see the pain and anguish marring her face as she struggles to find the words to go on.

“I’ve never told anybody this, and that’s what makes me feel awful.” Her voice trails off in a whisper, and I stroke a lock of hair back from her forehead. Not pushing, just waiting for her to go on.

“Whatever your secret is, it’s safe with me. I’ll never breathe a word of anything that’s said or done between us. People say I’m a good listener, and I think you really need an ear. I have two available, all for you.”

Gratefulness washes across her face, and she looks at me and kind of right through me at the same time.

With a slow smile, she nods once. “I believe you, Rome. I’ve never had a man willing to hear my confessions before, nor have I ever felt the need to talk—but I do now. I think it’s time. New…weird but I appreciate you not judging. I feel so guilty because I wish I’d had the courage or even known how to say all these things to my husband. He’s the one who should have heard them and that really hurts me in so many ways. I feel like I failed him.”

I’m honored she feels comfortable enough with me to accept my offer. It also pains me to hear of how she knows and regrets what was not said between her and her husband.

“This is all going to sound so terrible and I’m sure you’ve already got a picture of Phillip being a monster. He wasn’t. He was just a very hard person because his environment had forged him that way in order to survive. I truly loved him with all my heart at the beginning. I loved him at the end because he was my husband, and I regret that I couldn’t reach him. And I’m beginning to realize a lot of that was on me. I love him now and always will because he gave me Chelsea and Jackson. But I’m not in-love with him anymore, and I don’t think I had been for a long time. Colanara and the red dirt sucked the love out of our marriage just as sure as the last drought sucked the moisture and life out of the ground.”

Her eyes take on that glassy, faraway look again. The more she speaks the more the truth, as she sees it, tumbles from her. I feel the weight of her admission to the depths of my soul and know, without a doubt, I’m the only person who has ever heard this.

“The day Phillip had the accident, we’d had a big fight. It was pretty awful—ugly. He stormed out, and I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to do while he was gone…he was so pig-headed and stubborn.” I see her whizz back to that time and her anger and frustration play out across her face.

“We were skating the edge of bankruptcy, and he just couldn’t see it, Rome.” Her fists clench and frustration ripples through her voice. “Our debts were way over two million dollars, closer to three.” I fail to hide my shock at that. That’s a lot of money in anyone’s books.

She nods resignedly. “Large cattle stations like Colanara gobble up a lot of money, Rome. Particularly when there’s none coming in and it’s all going out.”

“I may not understand cattle stations but I do understand cash-flow.”

“You have to understand, I was at my wits end, Rome.”

I stroke her cheek, offering whatever comfort I can. “I believe you, Oz. You’re not a woman to take things lightly. If you were at that point, I’m guessing you were there for a good reason.”

“I was.”

I keep stroking her face and just be there with her. Not pushing, just letting her get it out in her own time.

“I’d decided I was going to give him an ultimatum when he got home.” I can see the tears threatening to break, but somehow, she sucks them back and takes on that distant tone again. I know I’d prefer the tears and her giving into the pain and letting it go, than to keep fighting it.

“I was going to tell him I was leaving unless he agreed to let the gas drilling start. The only way we had a chance to financially survive was if we let them do some test drills. If he wouldn’t agree to the drillers and their tests, I’d decided I was also going to ask him for a divorce. The money from the tests would have been enough to keep us going and we would have still had the property. They were just buying the rights to drill.” She covers her face with her hands in what I read as shame. “It sounds so awful, but it was the only way I could see to force him to make the decision to pull us out of financial ruin.” I gently move her hands away, and I see the anguish and pain at her plan, written across her face.

She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Was that a horrible thing to do? The property had been in his family for decades.”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, my eyes scan hers. I want to see if she got it. “You said you were on the brink of bankruptcy. I don’t know the details, Oz, but I do know that when things are that dire, something major has to change or the inevitable will happen.”

I watch a spike of pure pain bury into her heart.

“Something major did happen, Rome. Phillip never came home. He was killed in a car accident that very afternoon, while I was plotting the end of our marriage and the property.”

Immediately, I regret my words. I knew she was a widow, although I didn’t know the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death—until now.

The guilt she’s carrying over this situation is palpable. It’s written in the tension of every muscle in her body. The pain runs deep. Of that, I’m very sure.

I’m truly surprised she’s told me this much. Carlene has not only been geographically isolated but also emotionally, sexually, and most probably physically, as well.

I wonder if she’ll be able to make a connection to people in the future. If she’ll be brave enough or whether it’s too late for her—I certainly hope that isn’t the case. She deserves better.

Her eyes are haunted, and I know this is terribly hard for her to share with me. There’s no doubting for me, she’s back in that day, sucked back to relive the events over and over. To torture herself more with guilt.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” I ask after a long moment. I sense she needs the time to gather herself again before going on. There had to be more, you couldn’t go through a day like Carlene described and not have a mountain of emotional baggage.

“You’re right. There is. I wonder about the accident, Rome. Was it really an accident? Or was it because I’d raised the gas drilling again and we’d fought? Then there’s the other possibility. Did he…?” Her lips tremble, and she doesn’t need to say anything more. I know what she’s implying, her eyes say it all. “It’s not uncommon in the farming community. Too common. It all gets too much to bare.” Her voice trails off to not much more than a shaky whisper but still no tears.

My heart aches for her. I can’t imagine living with the question of whether my partner committed suicide. The not knowing must be excruciating.

I don’t have the answer to her questions. All my practiced words seem to escape me. And I sense Carlene wouldn’t know how to handle too much comfort from me. All I have left is logic to offer her and the comfort of not being alone while she relives the past.

“What did the police report say?”

She lets out a bitter sigh. “They said it was an accident, but not what type. He hit a tree on a straight stretch of road. It was the only tree for miles. How does that happen? What were the odds? There was nothing there.” I wonder if she realizes her voice has risen and is just short of an exasperated yell.

“A few feet either way, and he would have been bogged to the axels but not wrecked up against a massive ghost gum.” The anguish in her voice cuts at my gut. This is the mystery keeping her awake at night. This is the anchor holding her back from moving on. She’s locked in the guilt and the not knowing.

“Did he swerve to avoid a kangaroo? Did he reach down to get something? Did he fall asleep? Or did he just point his ute right at it and decide to end it all, Rome?”

She’s looking for me to have the answers to those questions, and I just don’t. Still, there’s something in her voice and expression that isn’t ringing true with me. There’s another layer to this. Questions and not knowing are one thing. It goes much deeper than that, though. The deepest layers are where the guilt comes in—I’m sure of it.

We’ve come this far it would be remiss not to finish the job and be done with it once and for all.

I brace myself and take a stab. “Do you miss him, the life?”

Her cynical laugh causes my gut to momentarily cramp. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. Am I totally off-base and been reading her wrong?

“The life—it was all I knew…do I miss it? Not for a second. Do I miss him? Sometimes. As I said before, we’d been drifting apart for years. I’m not sure we were even friends at the end and that hurts and also makes me feel so terribly guilty. What a thing to think or say about your dead husband? Yet I know there’s a part of me that will always love him. It just keeps going around and around in my head. I can’t seem to stop it no matter how hard I try.”

This has to have been an excruciating conversation for her, and somehow, she’s getting through without breaking down. I can see the emotional strength it takes. Carlene’s ability to shut down emotions to survive, says so much about her.

“I feel guilty that for the first time in so many years, I can actually breathe and not have fear crawling through my gut all day, every day, Rome. I’m not sure you understand, but it’s like trying to move forward, get by, when you know the foundations of everything in your new life has been at the expense and total destruction of your old life.”

I squeeze her hand in support. The fear she speaks of is no stranger to me. The fear and I are well acquainted but will never be friends. We share common ground—as only someone familiar with gut-wrenching, bone-crushing fear can really understand.

The decision to offer my own experience becomes a non-decision. I know instinctively, only another survivor understands and has the credibility and perspective to provide the comfort she needs.

“Actually, Carlene, I do know exactly the spot you described. I’ve lived it and lost everything, as well. I didn’t have the same life you had, but I lost everything I knew and had to start over. I understand the terrifying fear, the numbness mixed with overwhelming anxiousness. The sleepless nights, the agitation. I get it. I lost the lot, too. It’s how I ended up here.”

I watch her eyes grow wide at my words, and I can see she’s taken back by how much I do understand. “Maybe that’s why I can recognize another survivor so easily when I see one, Oz. And I know you’re a survivor. It may not feel like it so much right now, but you’ve come farther than you think.”

“What happened to you?” she asks curiously. I’ve never spoken about my past with clients. For some reason, Carlene is different.

“Let’s just say the financial crisis of 2007/2008 did a hell of a number on me, and I had to start over in a hurry.” I’m not going to offer more than that. It’s decidedly vague which suits my needs perfectly.

She nods, not pushing. “It hit a lot of people hard. But at least you started over. I haven’t.”

“Why haven’t you, Oz? What’s stopping you?”

I watch her search for an answer.

“I don’t seem to fit in my new life, whatever that is. Nothing feels quite right. The kids don’t need me. I don’t have to work. I don’t have any real friends, and the little family I have all hate me for leaving Colanara. Kind of leaves me at a big loose end, and I have no clue how to fill my days. Theoretically, it’s going to be a while yet before I finally check out, and I have no idea how I’m going to spend that time. It’s actually quite terrifying.”

Then it hits me.

Carlene is a refugee in her own life.

From what I can tell, she has means and desire to do something, just no idea what. I have a hunch this stems from not having exposure to much in her life so far and carrying around a massive load of guilt from her previous life.

Before I know what’s happening, she’s sitting up on her knees looking down at me, with a look of hope or is it pleading?

“You’ve done it, Rome. How do you start over? What do I do?”

That’s a hell of a question.

She’s looking at me as if I have the answers to the meaning of life. Reality—I’m just a guy, who had no option but to figure shit out and fix all my fuck-ups.

I drag myself up, plump a couple of pillows against the headboard, and lean back.

“Circumstances are different for everyone, Carlene. I had to get something going for myself or I’d have been on the street and starving. If you can afford to be here with me, you’re not in that category.” The guilt returns, and I reach out and take her chin in my hand.

“I didn’t say that to offend you, baby. Just to highlight the fact you have options.” I hold her eyes with mine for a long moment. She needs to hear this and understand.

“Right there, Oz, that guilt—you’ve got to let it go. You can’t go forward until you do. You’re here, with me. He’s not, and from what you’ve told me, the door’s shut solidly on your old life—no going back or do-overs. There’s only one option, and that’s to go forward. And coming here is probably one of the first steps.

“You’ve taken the time to decompress after something terrible happened. I envy that. Not the losing someone part. The ability to decompress and just be for a bit without having to worry about how to pay the bills. I didn’t have the chance—my circumstances didn’t allow it. Now you need to find your place in the world, and the only way to do that is exposure and trial and error.”

She flinches at the word exposure.

“It’s such an opportunity to start over and be whoever you want. I’m actually more than a little envious.” Here’s a woman who has the world as her oyster, she just has to be brave enough to take up the challenge.

“You need to see things, Oz, experience things, physically, emotionally, geographically. From what you’ve told me about your old life, it seems to me like you need the opportunity to grow and find yourself as a person. Only then can you decide what works for you. What feels right.”

I see her processing it all in her pretty head—mulling it over.

“How will I know?” she finally asks. Her voice is hardly more than a whisper, and she’s looking at me as if I am some sort of wise man. I wish I were. There are so many things I would have done differently with my own life—maybe.

“You just will. And if you’re confused about something, ask yourself this ‘What don’t I want to do?’ If it hits that list, then you know it’s wrong for you.”

I watch her taking it all in. Carlene is the type who is as much a cynic as she is an optimist. Always assessing and balancing everything in her head, testing for bullshit. Secretly wanting to trust and embrace but taking her time to get there and be convinced of the integrity behind it.

“Is that what you did? Is that how you chose this path?”

I notice she doesn’t use the word career. I often wonder if being an escort is a calling, a career, or just a crazy way to pay the bills. Probably a little of each, if the truth be known.

“I’m going to be brutally honest here, Oz, because I think you prefer it. I needed money in a hurry. The job market was tight. The doors had shut on my old life and what I had left was what you see.” I wave my hands down my body.

“Education meant squat when thousands of others were out there with the same qualifications I had. I’d always enjoyed spending time with women, and fortunately for me, women seemed to want to spend time with me. I’d come out of a long-term relationship and didn’t want anything serious at the time. It was the most logical solution I could come up with then. I guess it must work for me, because I’m still here now.”

“Do you like it?” I should have expected that question from her. Direct and straight to the point in everything but sex, and that’s a challenge I’m going to work on.

I give her a mock glare. “How do you always seem to make me say too much? I normally never have a problem keeping things in the moment. Keeping my mouth shut. You, Oz, you don’t play by the same rules most women do.”

She looks maybe a little offended. “Sorry, I’m definitely not most women as you’re starting to discover. In fact, most of the time, I’m not even sure I am a woman. I have no idea about shopping or all that frilly, fluffy, girly stuff. Yesterday was far more my speed.”

And maybe that’s a big factor in her indecision? She’s had to be tough and what I’m going to guess, as anything but feminine to survive the lifestyle she’s led.

“I didn’t mean it to offend you. It’s not a bad thing in any way. In fact, I’m enjoying myself because you’re so different from most of the women I know. I don’t have to guess. You tell me straight up, except when it comes to sex. Then I have to drag it out of you.” I pop her on the mouth with a brush of my lips. “So far, you’re making my life pretty fucking easy. Not a diva demand or tantrum to speak of…yet!” I can’t resist giving her a playful wink.

“Answer the question, slippery.” There’s humor in her voice, which pleases me immensely.

I wince and play along with her. “See, you’re just too good! Yeah, I do enjoy it. I wouldn’t do it otherwise. I like making ladies happy. But like any job, it has its days and clients. Some are awesome and others are the type you want to forget. That’s not unique to this gig, though. I had that in my previous life, and I’m sure you did too, at least to some extent.”

“Would you change it, if you could?”

“And there’s another question! Oz, this is supposed to be about helping you figure things out. Not grilling me.”

“But you are helping me. I’m learning about the choices you made and how you feel about them. Whether you’d repeat them. That’s very helpful.” She argues stronger than I expect.

“When you put it like that…some things I’d change. On the whole, not much. I’ve met a lot of really interesting people and seen so much, experienced so much. That’s brought about opportunities in many areas. Some opportunities I’ve opted to let go because they don’t fit or feel right. Others I’ve jumped into with both feet. Either way, it’s the exposure to people that creates the opportunity, whatever it may be. Then it’s just up to you what you do with it.”

She mulls over my words for a bit. “So you’re saying I need a basic plan of where I want to go, then let the actual journey take care of itself and don’t be afraid of taking a detour on the way.”

“That’s about as good of a summary as I could ever come up with. You just have to put yourself out there to the possibility of opportunity. It can’t find you if you’re hiding.”

Carlene frowns, still deep in thought. “I just need to figure out where I want to go.”

The way she said that worries me a bit. Oz is very black and white in her outlook.

“It doesn’t have to be a specific goal or something to achieve. It could be more like a state of mind.”

She looks at me skeptically.

“Yeah, I’m confusing myself, so I get why you’re looking at me like that. What I’m trying to say is this. You might decide your ultimate goal is to feel happy. If that’s the case, then you can just work out what makes you feel that way. It doesn’t have to be that linear either. Shit, I’m confusing you more.”

For a moment, she has a far-away look on her face. “Actually, you’re not. I think my problem is exacerbated because I don’t have to do anything. I can sit on my backside until the end of my days and never have to worry about how to keep the lights on or put food on the table. My problem is I’ve got the means to do almost anything but I’m too spoilt for choice so I do nothing. At least, that was the case until I got off my blot and came over here.”

I burst out laughing at her choice of words…blot

“What?” she demands.

“Blot, it cracked me up. I haven’t heard it before.”

“I guess it’s a term some Aussies use. Maybe a little politer than arse.”

Arse…it sounded so sexy coming from her mouth.

“Right there, babe. Say arse for me again. That’s so hot!”

She glares at me but says it again, and it’s just as effective at making my dick jump in interest. What is it about this woman?

Her stomach growls, and I realize we’ve been talking for ages and my mind is spinning at all we went through.

“Feel like some breakfast?”

“Sure,” she agrees.

“Room service, hotel buffet, or something outside?”

“Let’s go for a walk and get something. I hate being so inactive.”

“Actually, I thought we were pretty active last night,” I correct.

She gives me a withering look. “You were active. At least I didn’t freak out worse than some teenage virgin, like the first time. That was so embarrassing.”

I shift forward and press my lips to hers in a brief kiss. It’s a kiss that says more than words would right now. It feels as if we are now on the same page and maybe even operating at the same speed since she opened up about her life.

“You’re allowed to freak out and question, Oz. All that’s okay, as long as you still try things. The real tragedy is not being prepared to give things a chance. If you don’t try something, how will you ever know? Don’t be embarrassed about that. It’s just something you hadn’t experienced. Now you have…a few times, and can make an informed decision.”

She looks at me long and hard—assessing. Then gives me another of her slightly sarcastic, slightly cynical laughs. “I’m about to do something I hope I don’t regret.”

“Oh? Do tell?” I’m excited for the prospect of Carlene, a little wild.

“I’m going to give you free rein.”

“Okay…” I trail off, wanting more to go on than just a few ambiguous words. There’s a trust building between us, and I won’t ever do anything to jeopardize it.

“It means, I want you to show me and share with me as much as we can. Clearly, you know a whole lot more about lots of stuff than I do…” Color is rising in her cheeks, and I can see she’s starting to struggle with embarrassment and inexperience again.

“I can do that.” I rub my hands together in glee. “We’re going to have some fun together.”

“I sure hope so.” Then she tilts her head and looks at me a little cautiously. “I’m not going to regret it, am I?”

“Nope. I promise you’ll love every second, and if you don’t, just tell me to stop, and I will. This is all about you, Oz. And I’ve got what’s left of our time together to show you just how amazing life can be when you’re prepared to live it to the fullest. Now go get ready to head out.”

She backs off the bed a little, and her head drops before rising to look at me again. “Thank you, Rome, for understanding. That wasn’t easy to tell. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve ever told any of that to.”

The last hour has been huge for her.

“I’m humbled, you chose me to tell your story to. I’m always here if you want to talk, and I’ll try and offer an objective opinion, for what it’s worth.”

“You have no idea what that means to me, Rome. Our time together so far has been more than I ever expected.”

And isn’t that a sad and sorry state? One I’m certainly going to do my best to change. Carlene deserves a chance to spread her wings, and I’m going to make sure she has the air under them to do so.