Georgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 02

When he finally did speak again, the voice was low, mesmerizing.

"I don't know how much you know about me." He shook his head. "No, not right. I don't know what you've read or heard about me." There was a lengthy pause and he spoke to the water before him. "I've trusted you from almost the beginning." He glanced very briefly at me and turned his head forward again. "My mom trusts you. I know you talk with her. She talks with you." He paused and licked his lips.

"My mother does not offer up kind words easily about people. She thinks you're a good egg, as she puts it." He looked at me again, briefly, smiling.

"So, I trust you. And you didn't have to tell me you weren't promiscuous. I knew that already. If you had been, you'd have offered yourself to me or someone I know by now. Besides, men know these things. At least men who have any sense at all know." Kiefer took a very long, loud breath. He then released it in a lingering sigh.

"I won't lie. Ten years ago I'd have to be telling you that a rooster in a large henhouse has little on me." He gave a short laugh that made his shoulders move. "But . . . experience, time, the world . . . they change things, y'know?" He looked at me for affirmation which I provided through a nod.

"Another thing I won't lie about. Because of my past, well, I have had STDs. But none of the ones that are permanent. The ones I've had have always been curable through a round or two of penicillin or a few good washings with lice soap!" His shoulders shook with soft, self-deprecating laughter, but he continued looking ahead.

"I'm not as eager to hop into the sack every few minutes the way I once was." Another long, deep breath.

"In fact, sex doesn't seem to be as important as other things to me anymore." Kiefer's head quickly snapped to look at my face. "I don't mean that I don't like . . . "

I reached just as quickly with my fingers and placed them on Kiefer's lips to silence his protest.

"I understand, Kiefer," I said as I shook my head up and down. "Sex is a miracle when all's well. But other things help make the sex a miracle." I lowered my hand.

"I don't want you to think I'm not normal. I am." He looked at me, not turning his head back around.

"Kiefer, I have no doubt that you're normal when it comes to sex. Jeez. You don't have to apologize for emotional maturity!" I laughed softly and lightly rubbed his shoulder for a second or two. He looked relieved, returned his gaze to the water.

"So, am I promiscuous?" he asked the night air. "No, not most of the time. And, you can trust me, I'm clean."

As Kiefer turned to look at me, I rose to my knees and said, "I trust you. What reason could you have to lie?"

A quick smile filled Kiefer's face and there was a lull in the conversation. "Helllloooo. Earth to Jossey. I'm a man. I could lie to get to those boobs!"

Kiefer maneuvered his body up and around and on his knees to face me. We were no more than six inches apart. My breathing was becoming perceptible. To my amazement, so was his. I suddenly, as if in epiphany, realized that this attraction was not just a one-way street.

I offered the only thing that I could. It was what I was thinking.

"We'll know when the time is right. Pushing it, going too fast . . . "

Kiefer completed the thought.

" . . . don't wanna do that."

Then it happened. Yes. IT. The pre-kiss hand movement. When it happened, I believe that all of my organs stopped functioning. No one who'd ever watched a Kiefer Sutherland film in which he'd kissed a woman was unfamiliar with the pre-kiss hand movement. Just like that--up it came. The right hand on the left side of my face, palm resting on the cheek, thumb lightly brushing my lips before it pressed under my chin. Oh, god. Oh, oh, oh. He's doin' it. Doin' it to me. The pre-kiss move. Where was his other hand? Where? I had to focus. It was . . . it was on my back, near the middle, pulling by body closer to his. Mine? Where were my hands? Oh, god. Did I have hands? Yes, yes. Focus, Jossey. One hand was on his waist, the other on his neck. I felt the hardness of his body, the heat, as he held me fast. Now what? A kiss?

Oh, yes. A kiss it was. The kiss. Kiefer's head tilted, neared my face. Had I died at this very moment it would have been enough. But I did not die. Kiefer's lips nibbled at my lower one. Nibbled. Softly. Sweet, sweet nibbling and soft sucking. Then both of his lips closed over mine.

I'm unsure if my knees still made contact with the black plastic bag. I'm unsure of anything except that I'd never experienced a kiss so sweet, so moving. My body couldn't determine which direction to follow: melt, or shake? I was lightheaded. My weakness tripled when I became cognizant of Kiefer's shaking. He, too, was feeling something indefinable. Our lips were not pressing hard against each other--they were melded together with a light suction, a connection as light yet strong as the measure of tulle that nestled inside the box holding the empty wine bottle and glasses.

My breath seemed in danger of running out. Were my lungs not working? I moved my head side to side, testing whether the feeling would disappear like so much gossamer. The feeling did not disappear, but increased as Kiefer's head followed my movement, the hand on my cheek moving behind my head to my neck, holding me even more tightly. I wanted to melt into his body, become one.

Suddenly, as if a missile had been launched from a silo, Shirley's voice split the now hot night air.

"Kiefer? Sweetheart? Are you down there somewhere? We're about to start charades!"

A pause before Shirley continued. Mine and Kiefer's lips parted, and we pulled away from one another, blinking.

"Kiefer," Shirley resumed. "You know we can't play without you. Kiefer? Your brother said he saw you come down here."

Kiefer and I looked at one another in the dusk. It should have been a time for regret, but we both giggled on cue.

"Mamma-radar," Kiefer sputtered quietly before he responded. " And brother betrayal. Wait'll I get my hands on his neck!"

Kiefer turned his head toward the direction of his mother's voice.

"Yes, Mom. I'm here. I'm talking to Jossey."

"Oh." The response was a disappointed one. "Well, tell her to come, too." A pause. "But she's no good at charades!"

Silently we giggled at that, eyes wide, leaning on one another.

"Damn. You must be really bad at charades!" Kiefer observed.

"I am not," I defended myself. "Well, not that bad. She hurt my feelings!"

"Ooooo. Poor baby. Poor bad-at-charades baby."

He kissed the top of my head, stroking my hair with his right hand.

I snuggled into his chest, pretend-whimpering.

"I'm not that bad. I'm just not as good as she is!"

"Oh, not to worry," Kiefer soothed me. "It's a Douglas thing. We're taught to play charades at an early age--minimum two years old. We've had lots and lots of practice!"

"Two," I echoed rather loudly.

Kiefer nuzzled his lips near my ear.

"Yeah, two," he whispered. "Don't worry about her comment. She's just direct."

I drew away from him with a smile, looking into his eyes.

"Kiefer. I've known your mom a few years. I know she's direct. It didn't bother me. I'm not as good at charades as she. But I'm not lame either!"

He grinned widely.

"You're no Douglas, girl. But c'mon and do what you can!"

He took my left hand in his right and we ran across the sand toward the staircase.

I suddenly tugged on Kiefer's hand and brought him to a halt.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"The bag," I replied. "The bag and the box."

Kiefer's head snapped back to the beach.

"Stay here. I'll get 'em."

He burst into a run, quickly retrieving the bag, the brocade, and the box and returning to my side.

When we reached the staircase, I retrieved my shoes, but decided that my dress, not to mention my sand-encrusted buttocks and rather sticky inner thighs, were more than I could bear for a lengthy charades game. I voiced, partially, my thought to Kiefer as we climbed the stairs. When we reached the top, Kiefer placed the box, which now held the other items as well, on the ground. He turned to me and took my forearms in his hands.

"It's family. I'd rather be with you, talk with you, but I arranged the weekend."

"Oh, Kiefer. Don't be silly. Of course you'll join them for charades! This is a family and friends outing."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yes, yes of course. I'll join in when I've showered and changed."

I paused.

"I mean, if it's okay--if not, I can just watch all of you play charades, or, stay in my room."

"Okay? No, you'll play with us! Run on and do what ya gotta do. I gonna brush my butt off and go on in. But you'd better not be too long, or I'll come after you!"

"Hmmm. Let me help you brush the butt off!" I reached around and began patting Kiefer's rounded ass. He giggled and reached around taking my hands in his and bringing them back in front of him. He raised my hands, palms together, brought them to his lips, and brushed the edges of my baby fingers with his lips.

"Don't tempt me, woman. I'll brush off your behind again, this time more carefully now that I know, well . . . "

I giggled.

"Hey," I said. "Where are your shoes?"

"Ah. They're in the kitchen. I'll get them on the way in." A pause. "Do you want me to walk you to your cottage? I'd be happy to." And he took my arm and started to head in that direction rather than to the kitchen.

"No, no." I protested. "I can make it there just fine. Just fine." Impetuously, I leaned up and quickly kissed Kiefer's lips.

"Hmmm. That makes me want to walk you home even more!"

As Kiefer leaned down to return the kiss, his mother's voice split the night again.

"Kiefer, what are you doing? We're waiting for you!"

"I am going to kill my brother," Kiefer hissed near my face.

He brushed my arm lightly and headed to the kitchen. He turned his head to face me and whispered "hurry" about half way across the flagstone to the French door. I nodded and headed to the gate in the fence surrounding the pool.

I was staying in the third cottage, the one down the way about a block. Although a three-bedroom house, only two were occupied. I was in one and Collin, one of Kiefer's friends, and his wife were in the other. I entered the house and quickly made my way to the second floor where the bedrooms were located. I went into my room and showered and changed in record time. The beauty of aging has advantages. I no longer anguished over getting ready. I was soon on my way back to the big house and the game of Douglas charades.

When I entered the large parlor, about ten people were engaged in the game. Several more had arranged themselves around the room and either watched the game or were engaged in conversation. Those who were missing were probably already in bed or otherwise busy.

I opted to watch the game rather than play, despite Kiefer's verbal and non-verbal protests. It was delightful and enlightening to watch the precision with which they played. Before I knew it, two hours had flickered by. My eyelids were getting heavy. I was torn between watching charades or heading to my sumptuous bed. After a quarter hour more, my eyelids won. I motioned to Kiefer during a brief break, letting him know that I was leaving.

"Headed home, Jossey," he asked across the room.

"Yep. Goodnight, all. Your skill has my head spinning. I have to go and get it to slow down."

People from all over the room murmured "goodnight" and I headed to the evening's rest.

Soon I settled into the comfortable bed, day-dreaming about the evening's events. After about ten minutes of this pleasant diversion on my way to drifting off, there was a tap on my door.

"Yes?" I asked quietly.

No response. I sat up and turned on the lamp next to the bed. Another soft knock.

I threw back the covers, put on the robe I'd left at the foot of the bed, and headed to the door.

"Yes? Who is it?"

A husky whisper answered my question.

"It's me. Kiefer. Let me in before Collin hears me."

I quickly opened the door and allowed Kiefer to step inside.

He turned to face the door, closed it, and fastened the bolt.

"Expecting burglars?" I inquired.

"No," he responded as he turned back to face me. "I just don't want anyone barging in."

"Kiefer. It's true that we talked about stuff tonight. But I'm not sure we're ready for . . "

Kiefer placed his fingers to my lips to signal that I should be silent.

"I'm not here for that."

My eyes, face, must have expressed something that was less than positive.

"No, no," he said. "I don't mean that I don't want . . . you know, you. But we did discuss this and I think we agreed that it had to feel right."

"Uh huh," I nodded, looking at him in his tight white t-shirt, faded jeans, and bare feet. Was beginning to feel too close to "feeling right" as I stared at him.

"I'm here because I was thinking about you, wanted to be with you. You know . . . just . . . well, just be with you. Is that bad?"

I shook my head side to side, indicating that it was not bad at all.

"I was lying in bed thinking about this evening when you knocked," I admitted.

"You were? What were you thinking?"

"That it was nice. That . . . that it was, y'know, very nice."

I smiled at him, hoping that this would convey my feelings more than my lame attempt at speech.

He smiled back.

"Sometimes . . . " His voice trailed off and he looked away briefly, then returned his gaze to my face.

"Sometimes I just don't wanna sleep alone. You know. Sleep."

His eyes did not leave mine. His expression, one of inquiry, did not waver.

"So," I replied. "You," I stopped, took a deep breath, started again. "You want to, uh . . . want to sleep here? With . . . me?"

He sighed, apparently with a measure of relief.

"Yes," he nodded. "Exactly. But I don't want you to think I'm here to ask you for more than that. I'm not. I just want to sleep with you."

I know he must have taken my lack of response incorrectly. His facial expression conveyed this, but my head was spinning. My brain was not functioning well. He must have thought I doubted his intentions.

"I mean just what I said," he reiterated. "Sleep." There was a pause. "Is that so horrible? I just want to sleep with you!"

I was experiencing many emotions. The main one I soon voiced.

"Kiefer. You may be all right with this, but I don't think I am!"

"Sleep, Jossey. Sleep."

Kiefer's voice was rising now. He still misunderstood me.

"No, Kiefer. You misunderstand. It's not that I don't want you here. I want you here too much! You may can just sleep, but I don't know whether I'm that . . . disciplined!"

Kiefer's eyes registered understanding. He smiled, took my face in his hands.

"I can be disciplined," he winked at me. "Will be disciplined. Enough for you and me both."

I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head side-to-side. Kiefer stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Well," I murmured. "You'll have to be strong if you stay. I just don't think I can be that close and . . ."

"It'll be fine. Trust me," Kiefer whispered in my ear.

"Fine, eh?"

"Uh huh. Just fine," he said.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from Kiefer.

"Just fine, huh? I have on a robe, Kiefer. I have on a robe because I came to the door when you knocked. I have nothing on under this robe." I paused to let the words sink in. "I have nothing on under this robe because I don't sleep in anything. How fine is that gonna be, buddy?" I followed this inquiry with a rather wicked smile.

Kiefer's face went slack. As I'd seen several times this night, he slowly blinked.

"You got nothin' on under that thing?"

I shook my head to and fro. Slowly.

"Nothin'?" he inquired again.

I slowly shook my head again.

Kiefer turned halfway away from me. When he turned towards me again, he'd regained his composure.

"Okay. I'm . . . thoroughly . . . ." Kiefer licked his lips.

I suddenly felt awful for pushing the opportunity I'd seized. He'd been in earnest about sleeping here.

I rushed to Kiefer and threw my arms around his waist, hugging him close to me. I was filled with remorse.

"Oh, Kiefer. I'm sorry. That was so horrible of me. It just . . . well, it just came out. I'm sorry. Please. Please forget what I said. You're welcome here. Welcome."

I stared into his eyes, implored him with my gaze.

He was unconvinced. I read it in his eyes.

I brought my hands to rest lightly on Kiefer's chest. I hoped my tenderness translated itself through my touch.

"Give me a minute. I'll find something to sleep in." I smiled as benignly as I could and moved away.

Kiefer caught me, held me.

"I'll go if you want."

"No," I whispered. "I want you here. With me. Sleeping. I can't think of a more perfect way to end this perfect evening."

This time he allowed me to move away and I walked to the dresser to open one of the drawers in a search for something to sleep in. As I heard movement behind me, I located a t-shirt and grabbed some panties--underclothing that I did wear when it was not in danger of showing through my clothing. I headed to the bathroom with the garments. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see that Kiefer was already in bed, his jeans and t-shirt on the floor. He lay on the bed in his briefs, no cover over him. My legs were in danger of turning to liquid.

I removed the robe and quickly pulled on the panties and t-shirt. Vanity made me take a quick look into the mirror. I hurriedly brushed some blush on my cheeks and checked my teeth, but I'd just brushed so I felt comfortable with my breath. I rubbed a bit of gloss on my lips and ran the brush through my hair. Satisfied, I opened the door and made my way to the bed.

I turned off the lamp and crawled into bed on the side opposite of where Kiefer lay. I turned on my side and faced Kiefer. I held my hand out to him, an offer he accepted as he took my hand in his. He smiled. I returned the smile.

"You don't sleep under the covers," I asked Kiefer.

He shook his head negatively.

"Uh uh. Too hot."

Well, I know that's right, I thought to myself.

"I get too cool if I don't," I explained. "Do you mind," I inquired as I pulled the sheet up over my body.

Another shake of the head. In fact, he took he edge of the sheet and pulled it to his own waist.

I looked into Kiefer's eyes.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening. It was heaven."

He smiled a lopsided smile. I was immediately worried, but he soon followed with a wink.

"C'mere," he growled.

I wiggled my way over to him, pressing my body against his.

"Is this the way you sleep? In this position?"

"No, not really," I admitted. " I usually sleep on my other side."

Kiefer raised his head.

"Turn over. G'head."

"No."

"No," he returned. "Why not?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"'Cause I don't wanna turn away from you."

"Silly. I'm not goin' anywhere. Turn over and snuggle up." He lowered his head again to the pillow.

I'd be hard pressed to describe how I reacted to this suggestion to snuggle up. I was excited, yes. But more than that I felt warm and wanted. It was an overwhelming feeling.

I gave Kiefer a lingering look, but turned over as instructed. I backed up to Kiefer, allowing my curved body to be cupped by his own. He was so warm, so pliable. I snuggled my body into his, wriggling my butt as I nestled into the perfect position. Kiefer's chin rested atop my head. Then I heard it. Yes. Heard it. The sniff. The Kiefer sniff. His nose so near my hair, he must've been smelling it. I could see the sniff in my mind's eye.

Kiefer's left arm rested lightly around my waist, his right one rested above my head. My left hand entwined his, the forefinger and thumb of my right one grasped the thumb of his right hand near my face. I refused, for some minutes, to shut my eyes. I believed that if I did he'd disappear. Soon, though, my weary eyelids had their way and closed.