Oliver
WHO KNEW THREE months could take a year to pass. Anticipation’s a ball buster. It’s warped my perception of time, slowing each day to a crawl. All this week there’s been a kind of charge in the air, building as we get closer to the trip. Just the thought of her in my bed gets me hard. If I imagine being inside her or having those lips around my dick, I’ve gone too far. The trouble is I’m thinking and imagining all the time. I’m like a fucking teenager, wanking off every day. Sometimes twice a day. It’s ridiculous. I haven’t masturbated this much since high school when the same girl inspired my fantasies. She’s a twenty-year ache begging for relief. But it’s about much more than the sex. All that she is interests me. I knew the girl, and now I want to know the woman.
Since the night of my first showing we’ve gotten closer, one conversation at a time. Yet something I can’t identify holds her back. She’s cautious for some reason. Maybe she was hurt by a guy and never got over it. Or it was what she went through with her father and that makes it hard for her to trust a man. I sound like a dime store psychologist. We talk every few days, and have dinners or drinks with Fig and Zarah at least once a week. It probably would have been easier to pump Fig for information, but I didn’t want my inquiries to get back to Stori, or to sound needy or desperate in my interest. We’re not in high school anymore. I’m a man and I can find my own way to her. I may have a shot now that I can match her trajectory in life. All I need to do is figure out how to convince her we’d be a great idea. But first I want to chip down that wall between us. It’s a tall order and one probably aimed for by every guy she’s ever had a relationship with. But I’ll do it. Ain’t no mountain high enough.
She’s accomplished and one minded when it comes to her goals. There’s no bragging. She keeps her business private. But when I put the bits of information she’s revealed together it adds up. She’s about to realize her dream of owning Whiskey River. I heard her tell Zarah when we get back from the wedding she’s going to close the deal. That’s gotta be a big ticket, so just her ability to have the down payment says a lot. It doesn’t escape my notice she had no fairy godmother like I did showing up and setting everything right. She did it on her own.
Louise pulls me out of my thoughts and in the direction of our old homestead, each of her fourteen pounds put to work.
“Okay, girl. You excited?”
We both bound up the stairs, me two at a time. “Here we are. Let’s go see Prue.”
Before we reach the door, Louise is barking her arrival. I hear Prue’s approach.
“Is that my Louise?”
The door swings open and Louise pulls me towards her best friend. I unhook her leash and let them go at it. It’s a love fest.
“Well, you ready for the big trip?” She says.
I set the bag of food and toys down and take a seat on her big velvet purple couch.
“More than ready.”
She carries Louise like a baby and the dog has no problem playing that role. He’s at home in her hippie throwback apartment. Taking a seat next to me, Prue stretches her legs to rest on the wooden coffee table and sets Louise on her lap.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m looking forward to seeing the coast of France.”
Prue busts out laughing. “Who you kiddin? I think you mean I see London, I see France, I see Stori’s underpants.”
I can’t help but chuckle as she continues her read.
“That’s exactly what I was talking about when I said you needed a woman. Look how she lights you up. And that’s just the promise of romance. You’re not even involved yet. Just wait.”
I don’t have to respond. I know she’s right. I look up at the painting I gave her hanging prominently on her widest wall. “Looks good there.”
An I told you so look passes over her face. “No take backs! I’ve already made 500% on my money. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“Don’t worry. Piper wanted it the first time she saw it but I told her I already had a buyer. Just hold on to it, maybe it’ll be worth more because it was such an early work.”
We’re interrupted by my cell going off for the hundredth time today. I know it’s Piper again.
“Hey.”
“Just wanted to make sure you completed that list I sent you. Did you call those two buyers?”
“Yes, yes, yes. I did it all.”
“Listen, Oliver, I don’t know why I agreed to this little vacation. I need you here.”
“Well, you did, so I’m going. I’ll speak to you when I get back. I’m hanging up now.”
“What about Louise? Hercules needs to have a play date.”
“She’s with Prudence. I’m hanging up. Bye.” I disconnect.
Prue and I exchange looks.
“Needy much?” she says.
“She’s done a lot for me. But man, she can be smothering.”
“If anybody can handle it, it’s you.”
“Hey, I’ve got to head out. I’m going to see Grace before I leave for the airport.” I get up and give Louise a big goodbye kiss on her head.
“Any special instructions?”
“The numbers for the vet and my family’s in the bag. And don’t overfeed her,” I say knowing my suggestion falls on deaf ears.
Prue disregards the ask and speaks directly to Louise. “What does daddy know? A little bacon never hurt anybody.”
When the dog hears the word bacon her ears go up. She makes direct eye contact with her pal, making sure there’s no mistaking she’s interested.
“See what you’ve done,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. Just go have a great time, fall in love and fuck your brains out.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I think we’re both surprised when I don’t object to her use of the word love.
Six hours later I’m in the backseat of the car Fig sent to take me to JFK Airport. There’s still light in the sky, but the sun’s setting and its cast a luminosity over the city, as if the buildings have been dipped in gold. The song playing is “That’s Amore” and Dean Martin’s singing his Italian heart out. I’m going to take that as a sign. My stomach’s churning, either from hunger or nerves. Not sure which because I’ve rarely been nervous. This is something new.
It was a sweet send-off earlier. My parents and Grace visibly happy for my chance to take this kind of a trip. I reach into the pocket of my soft jeans for the good luck charm my sister gave me. She’s done that for years now, whenever one of us are about to do something that’s out of the norm. What’s scary for her she thinks is scary for us. I rub the smoothness of the piece of blue sea glass she found and saved for me. It’s the exact color of Stori’s eyes. Hey, it can’t hurt. Grace was a little off today, more closed down. But her meds are being adjusted so it’s to be expected. I was given strict instructions by my parents, who think of me as being nine years old, to let it all go and enjoy what is surely a once in a lifetime gift.
Wonder if Stori made it to the airport already? That is if she hasn’t backed out. That would be a pisser. I can just picture myself whacking off as the coastline of the most romantic place on Earth moves by my window. Where’s Oliver? He’s beating his meat in his room. Again.
“Here you go, Mr. London.”
The driver has pulled up to the curb and it didn’t even register. I reach for my wallet to pay the man a tip. I figure Fig’s already paid for the car. But when I try to pass it to him he refuses.
“It’s taken care of, sir.”
As I get out of the car, a woman in an Air France uniform approaches, while two porters handle my luggage. “Good evening, Mr. London.”
“Good evening.”
“Follow me please. Ms. Ryder’s waiting for you in the lounge.”
Yes. As we walk into the terminal I’m adjusting the waist of my jeans and straightening my hoodie.
“We’re right across here,” the woman says gesturing to the door she’s about to open for me. A small sign announces Le Premiere Lounge.
I walk into what must be an exclusive club for Air France’s wealthiest customers. I’ve never flown Air France, or even been outside the United States, so it’s all conjecture. There’s a bar and a long buffet of food I’d like to dive into. Big screen televisions hang on every wall. The leather seats and recliners are generous. Three servers work the room seeing to the needs of only five guests while a bartender tends to the drink orders. On one side of the room I spot doors offering massages and showers while flyers await their flights. A person could just stay in this room and have a great vacation.
But all the luxurious perks fade when I spot her. She’s sitting towards the back of the room, one shapely leg crossed over the other, reading a magazine. She doesn’t see me at first and so I get to watch her lost in her own thoughts. The artist in me notices the shades and tones of her, but the man sees the angles and curves. She’s dressed in neutrals that complement the color of her hair and ivory skin. White skinny pants cling to her legs and a cream colored long sleeved top drapes softly over her shoulders and breasts. The fabric’s so light weight it’s barely there. I picture myself ripping it off. Her hair’s long and loose and for a moment she looks like she’s sixteen. But it’s the sexiest sixteen I’ve ever seen. She’s jiggling the flat camel toned shoe that hangs half off her foot, and she’s biting on her bottom lip. When I get within a few feet she looks up and her face lights.
“Hi!” she says sounding as excited to begin the trip as I am.
I lean down and kiss her soft cheek. “Hi, you.”
She smells like a flower just beginning to blossom. Jasmine I think. A carry-on sits next to her and she moves it to make room for me. When I place mine on the ground next to hers they’re obvious in their difference. Mine’s a small leather tote packed with just a few items I wouldn’t want to be without. Hers is a stuffed Louis Vuitton large bag, holding more than what was intended.
“What do you have in there? Did you bring your snacks?”
“You know I did. Look.”
She brings the tote to her lap and opens it for me to see what’s inside. That gives me an opportunity to lean in close. It’s not her jewelry roll or the cosmetics that crowd the space. It’s the popcorn and cookies and bags of candy.
“Are those Fireballs and Nerds I see? Where did you find those?”
“I ordered them online. And guess what? I’ve got something special for you,” she says.
As soon as it’s out of her mouth I see her regret. She blushes and I love it.
“Do you? That sounds promising.” I can’t help myself, her embarrassment is adorable.
A grin spreads across her face. “You’re going to love it.” Another double entendre that she shakes off with a grimace.
She reaches in and rummages around.
“Here it is. Ta da!!”
It’s a big beautiful bag of Twizzlers, my favorite candy when I was a kid. I used to go through bags of them a week.
“You always knew how to tempt me.” She’s not the only one to recognize a good double meaning when she hears it. I take the candy from her hand and open it.
Stori goes back into her bag and finds the Skittles she’s always loved. Déjà vu. We used to have our sweets together almost daily.
We sit quietly for a minute or so, savoring the familiar tastes, just two people happy to be reliving a moment from their youth.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I say.
“You can ask. Don’t know if I’ll answer,” she says softly.
“In all our conversations these past three months you’ve never mentioned a man. Is there one?” I’m tired of avoiding the subject.
She looks me in the eye. “No. There’s no one,” she says without hesitation.
This makes me fucking ecstatic, despite my calm exterior.
“I won’t ask why not. You’ve already told me everything I need to know.”
She starts twirling a piece of her hair.
“What about you? Are you in a relationship?” she asks.
“Not even a little bit.”
I swear I see the slightest glimmer of happiness in her beautiful blues. Maybe it’s just wish fulfillment on my part. Neither one of us says anything further. There’s no need. Then, almost imperceptibly, I see the corners of her mouth lift. And so do mine.