tagCelebritiesGeorgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 02

Georgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 02

bypjstewart50©

Georgia – Also 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 were 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. 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, as he'd called them, 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.

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