Georgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 01

Of course, this anecdote doesn't provide an account of all of the times I'd been around Kiefer, but it does set the stage for the day's events. Brings me back to where I began-Kiefer staring at me. I had known him for awhile. We'd had conversations. I had come to realize that his wit and charm were endless, but that he had a melancholy streak in him, too. Oh, sure. He was the life of the party. The lightbulb in the dimly lit room. But this river was deeper than the surface betrayed. I wanted to know what the surreptitious stares meant.

This time when I caught his gaze I didn't look away. I stood up and slowly began making my way towards the chaise lounge in which he sprawled. The other thirty or so people present were all dozing, swimming, drinking, or otherwise keeping themselves occupied. Kiefer had attended this function alone. It wasn't that unusual. As I headed his way, he quickly shifted away from me, facing the opposite direction. I walked around the lounge and sat down in the middle of the one now facing him. He couldn't avoid me.

"Oh, hi," he said.

"Oh, hi, to you, too. Why are you staring at me?"

"What?" A pause. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a bad liar. You know that, don't you?"

Kiefer looked down at the flagstone, then up again.

"Ummm. Uh, yeah."

"So, answer the question, bud. What's up?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"'Cause you'd slap me if I told you."

That surprised me. I'm sure my eyebrow raised.

"Slap you? I'm hardly in the habit of slapping people. Why would I do that? And how do you know I would?"

"'Cause."

"God, you're monosyllabic today."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Is the reason you're staring at me so horrible that you'd think I would actually slap you?"

"Yeah."

I sighed in exasperation. As I shook my head, I stood up. Kiefer's right hand shot out and briefly grasped my left forearm leading me back down in a sitting position.

He just stared at me, waiting for me to say something it seemed.

I shifted my weight onto one buttock and placed my hand on the lounge under the raised one then shifted to the other side and placed my other hand, too, underneath my body.

"Now, I can't slap you. Why are you staring at me?"

"Sure you won't hit?" Another pause. "I know my mother. She'd hit me."

"What does your mother have to do with it?"

"If my mother likes you, and it's obvious she does, then you have to be down on male chauvinists."

Again, I was surprised and must've looked it for his eyes widened. Kiefer was no male chauvinist.

"Male chauvinists? Are you talking about you?"

He sheepishly shook his head affirmatively.

"Kiefer, you're hardly a male chauvinist. I mean, I suppose you're a bit chauvinistic when it comes to a few things, probably more than I know about, but I'd certainly not lump you into a group of chauvinists by even loose standards."

He looked slightly relieved.

I continued. "Why might I think you're a chauvinist?"

"Well, not, uh, not really a chauvinist. Just a pig."

He looked me squarely in the face, grinned wickedly, and let out a loud pig squeal.

I remained exasperated, but still on my hands.

"Look, I'm on my hands, I can't hit you, tell me what's goin' on."

Kiefer's face remained mischievous. He mimicked me and sat on his own hands. He leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes narrowing, and whispered huskily.

"I'm lookin' at your boobs. Been lookin' at 'em all day." He paused, then continued.

"And other stuff, too."

I was stunned.

He looked down, then up, then away, then at me again. He leaned back and removed his hands from under him, a movement I then completed, too.

"Are you mad?" He was genuinely interested in my reply.

I couldn't say anything. I was so completely taken aback by his answer. It was wholly unlike what I thought his response might be. Staring at my boobs. Why? Which is what I finally got out.

"Why?"

"Why do I wanna know if you're mad? That's silly. I don't want you mad at me."

"No. Why are you staring at my, uh, my . . ."

"Boobs?"

"Yes."

"'Cause."

"Cause," I asked. "'Cause why?"

"'Cause I've never seen 'em before. I've never seen you without your clothes on. I can't help but stare at 'em." He grinned at me. "They're awesome!"

"Awesome?" I was bewildered. "They're just average. Nothing special."

Indeed my breasts weren't anything outstanding. They were neither small nor large. The bikini top I wore was flattering, but I didn't think they deserved an "awesome" tag. Well, they were better than okay. I liked them really. But I was still surprised by Kiefer's admission, so I sat, silent, still contemplating what might have brought on this turn of events.

"You are mad at me, aren't you?" Kiefer looked regretful.

He stood up quickly, walked to the end of the chaise and paced back and forth at the pool's edge for a full minute before I responded.

"I am not mad at you. Not at all. I'm simply surprised that you'd be looking and that you'd think they were awesome. It seems, well, uncharacteristic. I don't recall you ever checking me out before."

Kiefer had stopped pacing when I started to speak. Now he looked at me with yet another grin.

"I check you out all the time. You just don't notice."

"You check me out all the time?" Another surprise. "Why?"

Kiefer's face screwed up. Eyes squinched. Cheeks and mouth pinched together.

"Why?" He seemed exasperated, but his face returned to normal. "Are you serious?"

When he determined that I was, he shook his head and held out his hands, palms up.

"Because you're a woman. I'm a man. That's what happens!"

He paused. Then he looked taken aback. Then embarrassed.

"Oh, god." He started shaking his head back and forth. "Oh, god. You don't ever check me out, do you? You're not interested at all, are you?"

Another pause. "God, how embarrassing," he almost whispered.

He started walking away.

"Kiefer. Stop." I had started laughing now.

"Don't laugh at me. It's not funny. I thought you might at least have a little curiosity about me."

"Oh, please. Don't be so melodramatic. Of course I've checked you out. But I certainly had no idea that you ever checked me out. You've certainly never been very obvious."

"Well, no, not obvious. I thought you'd be mad."

"Why in the world would I be mad?"

"Well, I . . . well, I figured Mom had warned you off."

"What does that mean? Warned me off?"

"I figured she probably told you what a loser I am and not to pay any attention to me. Besides, she gets all weird when I ask out anyone who's more than a day older than I am!"

Ah. So he had caught on.

"Yes, she does get upset. Do you know why?"

"No, and we're not talking about her right now. That's another whole conversation. We're talking about you now."

"And I'm sure she doesn't think you're a loser."

"Like I said, we're talkin' 'bout you now."

"Me? How'd this get to be about me?"

"'Cause you're who we're talkin' 'bout. Do you not like men?"

"What?" Now I'm sure my eyebrow must've shot up. "What do you mean? Are you asking a sexual preference question?"

Kiefer looked stunned. Then embarrassed again.

"Oh, shit. No, I wasn't, but, oh, shit. Is your preference for other women?"

I was now giggling uncontrollably.

"What's so fuckin' funny? Really, I really wasn't asking about preference. I just meant do you not like men! You know, lots of women Mom hangs out with don't like men."

I managed to calm down and motioned for him to be seated again. He rather reluctantly took his seat.

I smiled at him. Before I could speak, Kiefer held up his hand for me to wait while he spoke first.

"Before you say anything, let me ask a question in my defense."

I nodded okay.

"Well, do you have a boyfriend? Are you in a relationship? I've never seen you with anyone, so it wasn't so crazy that I asked about whether you like men."

I smiled again.

"Of course I like men, silly. I like men a lot. I like you a lot. But I had no reason to think you'd be interested in me, so I never made any overtures. Besides, who'd wanna have to deal with Mamma Douglas's 'older woman' issue?"

Kiefer laughed a soft laugh.

"Yeah. You're right. She can be pretty intimidating. But you're not that much older. Are you? I'd say forty something."

"You'd be right. Forty-five."

"Well, good grief. I'm thirty-eight. That's not that much older. Surely she wouldn't freak over that."

"Kiefer, I have no idea what would make your mother freak, as you say. She's about as much of an enigma to me as are you."

"Enigma? Me? What's so enigmatic about me? I'm pretty straightforward."

I smiled. He was enigmatic. I didn't think it was on purpose. He was just lost in the clouds a lot.

As he was beginning to be right now. Lost. Lost in deep thought. I let him be lost.

It was probably a full ten minutes before Kiefer spoke again. He had no idea it'd been that long, I'm sure.

"So, you didn't answer me. Are you in a relationship?"

"No, not right now."

"Why?"

"Hmmm. Well, I just haven't met anyone lately who's, well, suitable."

"What's suitable?"

"Uh. Goodness. What a question. That's hard to say."

"Well, try."

"Well . . . funny, intelligent, adventurous, warm-I dunno. Lots of things."

"There must be zillions of funny guys out there."

"Well, yeah. There are some funny ones. But they don't have all that other stuff, too."

"Hmmm. You didn't say handsome and rich."

I laughed.

"Well, handsome is a bonus. Great abs are simply a miracle, so they're unexpected. Rich? Not necessary really. I have plenty of money. I mean, plenty to do what I want to do. I don't need a guy to pay my way or anything. And I'm not greedy."

Back in the clouds again. He was back in the clouds long enough for me to go all the way on the other side of the pool to the bar and get us both a beer. When I returned, the movement directly in front of his face brought him back to the moment.

"So, when was your last relationship," he inquired.

"What is this, twenty questions? When was your last relationship?"

"This morning before breakfast." He didn't bat an eye. Then he grinned widely.

I made a face at him. He returned the gesture.

"Why are you asking about my love life?"

"Have you ever been married," he asked very studiously.

I paused.

"Yessssss. Once. A very, very long time ago."

"Was it bad?"

"The marriage? No, not at all."

"No, not the marriage. The breakup. Was it bad?"

"Uh, not really. I dunno. Why are we talkin' about this?"

"So, if the marriage wasn't bad, what happened?"

"None of your business. Period."

He stared at me.

"I'm sorry, Kiefer. I don't mind answering questions, most of them. But that one's just a bit too personal for me to answer. I don't feel I know you well enough to answer it."

"But you do know me. We've known one another for years now."

"Well, yes, sort of. But not enough to share that. It's not easy. But I'll talk about other relationships."

He tilted his head to one side. "No, I don't want to dig where I shouldn't. The main thing was just to find out if you liked men." He looked away, then back at me with a sheepish grin before he finished his thought. "And, you know, if you liked sex."

That voice saying the word "sex" was almost more than I could bear. I smiled, thinking to myself oh you don't know boy-o just how much I'm thinking about sex at this moment.

"I love men. Really. I love sex, too."

Kiefer's head straightened up again as he stared into my eyes with a playful grin.

"Oh, you do, do you?"

His eyebrows went up.

"Yes, I do." It occurred to me that I didn't want to mislead him, despite the warm thoughts and warm physical reactions I was having at the moment. I continued. "But I'm not, well, I'm not one to just give it up because a good-looking guy walks by." I looked him squarely in the eyes and grinned. "Not even if they have a Golden Globe or two." He chuckled and I finished my thought. "Too cheap. I think I'm worth more than that."

Kiefer modeled a look of mock shock.

"You mean . . . you don't spread 'em for every Tom, Dick, and Harry, or is that Tom's Hairy, spelled h-a-i-r-y, Dick?

I laughed.

"I like it when you laugh," he said.

"Well, I love to laugh."

"Hmmm. You love sex, you love to laugh. What else do you love?"

I shook my head as I smiled again.

"No, no. No more questions this afternoon. Too many. Turn about's fair play. I should ask you some questions!"

Kiefer wrinkled his nose and crossed his eyes.

"I'm not too fond of questions," he announced.

"Well, that's too bad. I'll ask only one, okay?"

"No, I do not have a ten-inch penis," he delivered with a straight face and then laughed.

I really laughed at that one. His deep, throaty chuckle was delightful.

"That wasn't my question, silly. Besides, I heard from Rachel that it ain't no big thang."

"Wha-at? You heard what?" his eyes got huge as he delivered the questions.

He leaned over and contacted my upper arm with his fist in a few playful jabs.

"She did not, you liar!" he almost screamed.

"Did, too," I returned.

"Did not. She wouldn't do that. Even if it is true."

He broke up at his own self-deprecating comment.

"Look, goofy. My real question is this: do you think that your first wife got pregnant on purpose in order to snare you?"

Kiefer's eyes widened, then narrowed, then returned to normal. He got quite serious.

"Well, that's a helluva question!"

"I know. And I know it's intrusive. So, you don't have to answer it. But I've always wondered since I heard your mom say that."

Kiefer was incredulous. He was genuinely surprised by my statement.

"Mom said that? She thinks Cam got pregnant on purpose?" He shook his head. "That's ridiculous. If anyone did anything on purpose, I did. I thought Cam was hot, hot, hot. Still do. I thought she was so cool . . ."

"You just said she was hot . . ."

"Oh, shut up, smart ass. She was, I thought, so experienced in the industry. I admired her knowledge of film and filmmaking. She had history!" He delivered that last word as if it explained everything.

"So, you don't think the pregnancy was on purpose?"

"Hm. Well, no. But even if it was, I don't really give a shit. That pregnancy probably saved my life. I'd be six feet under by now if I hadn't given up coke when Sarah Jude was born. Dead. Dead for sure." He mused a few seconds and added, "Besides, I wouldn't have Sarah either. That would be very bad."

And, just like that, he was gone again. In reverie. Deep thought. Oh, what the hell, I thought. I'll just drink his beer. He'll never know.

A quarter of an hour passed before Kiefer returned to the present. I'd already finished his beer and mine and moved back to my former chaise where my book and suntan lotion rested. I was attempting to get into the book when Kiefer rushed to the chaise next to the one I now occupied.

"So, do you think we should go out tonight?"

"Huh?"

"Should we go out? Tonight? Get something to eat?"

"Kiefer," I uttered in surprise. "There's a whole staff inside the kitchen right now preparing a five-star meal. Why would you want to go out?"

"To be with you!" He sat still for a couple of seconds before he looked at me and resumed. "Shit. I haven't made myself clear, have I?"

"Well, I'm not sure. What were you trying to make clear?"

He paused. A grin crept across his face before he delivered his next line.

"That I like your boobs." He now smirked.

I hit him. He laughed and took my left hand between both of his. I felt it. That feeling I'd had when he touched me while teaching me to ski. He looked straight into my eyes when he continued.

"I'd like to go out. Like to know you better."

I was flattered. No, that's not right. I was ecstatic. No, that's not right. I was euphoric. He allowed my hand to drop, but I continued to feel a tingling sensation where his own had been. I glanced to my left, trying to ascertain if anyone was watching us, but everyone seemed to be occupied. Kiefer followed my train of thought and spoke softly.

"They're all busy. No one's paying any attention to us."

"You told me," I said, "that I knew you already. If that's true, how come you don't know me?" I grinned.

"Hey, if you don't wanna go out, just say so." He grinned, too.

"You know, maybe we'd better check with Mamma Douglas and see if it's okay."

"Yuh." Kiefer rolled his eyes. "Hey. Why don't we eat here and then slip out?"

"Now there's a plan. I like it. Two adults sneaking out. There's something kinda special about that-kinda hot!" I was giggling.

Kiefer smiled, but followed the smile with a question.

"Okay, so what's your suggestion?"

"No, I'm serious. I think it's great." I paused. "Hey. Do you think we could just go walking on the beach? I love that."

Kiefer's face split into a huge smile.

"Yessssssssss. Yes, that's great," he murmured as his head moved up and down in assent. "I really like that, too."

We just looked at one another for a second or two, then he followed up.

"So, it's a date then. You slip out after the main course and I'll follow after dessert."

"After dessert? Why the hell do you get dessert and I don't?"

"Well, that's just the plan. I made the plan, so I get to choose who leaves when. Okay?"

"No, that's not okay. What if it's a great dessert. You leave after the main course and I'll have dessert."

"Hey. You're monkeying with the plan. You can't do that."

"Screw your plan. Plans should include dessert for all concerned." I had purposely injected mock venom in my voice.

Kiefer gave me a close-lipped, one-sided smile.

"Oh, all right. We'll both have dessert. Nothing wrong with people takin' a stroll after dinner."

"But I wanna sneak away, Kiefer." I emphasized the word "sneak." "Can't we have dessert and sneak?" This time I emphasized "and."

He laughed softly and shook his head.

"Yeah. We can sneak. I'll formulate the sneaking plan and pass it to you in the soup course."

I smiled. Then my insides caved in. Had he really just asked to sneak away with me after dinner? If so, and I think it was, what would the evening bring?