Couldn’t real y fight someone with your tongue in his mouth.
Wel , you could but it wasn’t my style.
I was al over him. My hands were al over him. My mouth was al over him.
He was naked which, if I wasn’t in desperation mode to get him to shut up and pay attention to me, I would have thought was kind of brazen considering the fact that we were over.
Instead I thought it was good. A time saver.
When he realized I wasn’t attacking him, his arms went around me with a force that squeezed my breath out of me and that was it.
It was hot, heavy, lots of everything like we hadn’t seen each other in three years rather than three days. I got astride him and lifted up, pul ing my nightie over my head while he watched. When I was done, he rol ed me over and tore off my underwear.
Then we went back at it.
Within minutes I was at Grade Nine.
“I want you inside me,” I said breathlessly in his ear.
He started to pul away.
“Where are you going?” I was no longer breathless but sounding loud and a little bit shril .
“Condom,” was al he said.
Oh.
That.
I yanked him to me and rol ed on my back, opening my legs and his hips slid between them. “In a minute,” I said.
“Jules –”
“In a minute.”
His head came up and he looked at me, hair around his shoulders just as beautiful as ever.
Then I could swear I saw a hint of a grin before his face disappeared in my neck.
Then he slid inside.
*
After we were done and once Vance had come back to me after going to the bathroom and dealing with the condom which he did final y use and showed me how to put it on (which gave a new dimension to birth control that I liked very much and I got the impression that he liked even better), I laid in his arms, we were side-by-side, my face tucked into his throat. I had no ridiculous thoughts about my wardrobe or summer camp because my Rottweiler had looked up from his bone and had begun to growl.
Hush, I whispered.
My Rottie cocked his head, whined a bit then went back to his bone.
Through my mental turmoil Vance was silent.
I was wondering about his mood. Okay, I was worried about his mood. Okay, I was scared to death about his mood.
“I need to go to work,” I whispered against his throat, the fear and hope were back. The longer he stayed silent the more the fear was winning.
Vance’s arms went loose and he moved a bit away.
The fear took further hold. I couldn’t remember a time when Vance so easily let me go.
I looked at him and couldn’t read his face.
Damn it al to hel .
“You going to work?” I asked in an effort to force him to speak.
“Been up al night. I’l go to the down room and crash.” I kept watching him but my throat was beginning to feel funny, like it was going to close up on me.
I knew how important what just happened was to me. I I knew how important what just happened was to me. I didn’t know what Vance was thinking and from the look of him it wasn’t good. Wasn’t good as in wasn’t anything, which was definitely not good.
“Okay,” I said and it sounded kind of croaky.
I sat up, taking the sheet with me and holding it to my chest. Vance moved, getting ready to exit the bed. I grabbed his hand. Do not ask me why but I did. He stil ed and looked at me.
And before I could stop myself I whispered, “You can crash here.”
Vance didn’t speak.
“You can shower here too,” I went on quickly so as not to arouse my Rottie.
He kept looking at me.
My jaw started hurting with the effort to keep the fear and the tears at bay.
“Whenever you want,” I said, “crash, I mean. And… um, shower.”
I thought what I just said was huge.
Vance gave me nothing.
“I’l give you a key,” I told him, the last ditch effort to get my point across.
That was super-huge.
More nothing from Vance.
Not… one… thing.
That’s when I nodded.
There you had it.
The fear changed from being scared of not getting Vance back to what my life would mean knowing I couldn’t have him back.
Time to move on.
I’d deal with it later. A lot later. When I was making quesadil as like a pro while wearing a sweater I knitted for myself in Nicaragua.
“Okay,” I said, my voice sounded higher and I let go of his hand, “I’m gonna get ready for work.”
I moved toward the end of the bed but his arm came around my bel y and he threw me back against the pil ows and settled his body on top of mine. My breath went out of me at his movements and I stared at him with wide eyes.
“Was it that hard?” he asked, looking down at me, face stil showing me nothing.
I could no longer speak so I shook my head, nonverbal y lying. It had been harder than hel .
“I don’t need a key,” he said.
I blinked, not sure how to take that. “You don’t?” I asked, finding my voice.
He shook his head. “Though it’d be easier than breakin’
in al the time,” he told me.