Healing Interlude

Carla dropped into the cool leather booth in the darkened hotel bar. The day had been long; too damned long. It was the annual conference. As a social worker working with families of terminally ill children, she lived with a string of one long day after another. But this annual conference seemed to only remind her of the tragedy of her work. How did one ever justify the pain, suffering and death of a child?

As the waiter approached, Carla lifted the menu. She needed food. Sometimes it seemed she always needed food. Her size sixteen dress attested to the comfort that she found in it. It was a coping mechanism she learned in childhood. With her masters in social work, she thoroughly recognized the root cause of her obesity.

It did not mean she had any more power to deal with it than the next person. Just when she made a new resolution or goal to eat healthier and exercise more, there was a new stress: another child died, another stupid bureaucratic rule that made her job harder or another well meaning assault on her career choice by her friends and family. As hard as it was, Carla did her job out of love.

Unfortunately, it was about the only love in Carla's life these days. Since her one long-term relationship had ended eight months before, she had found it virtually impossible to get back into the swing of dating. She had gone on more than a dozen blind dates arranged by friends and family. She had even what she considered a small fortune on a 'relationship' site that claimed to match you on a 'deeper' level.

Carla was not sure if it was her weight issues or the inevitable silence she encountered on each date in response to the standard inquiry; so what do you do? Either way, in over six months of dating, there had never been a second date.

She sighed and smiled weakly as she finished giving that waiter her order for the cheeseburger with fries and a Long Island Iced Tea. She toyed in her over-sized bag for the conference program. She always felt a bit uncomfortable eating alone in public. She knew it was actually a rather common feeling and perhaps she should have attached herself to one of the groups of acquaintances. But she really did not know anyone that well at this year's conference.

Last year, her colleague had attended the conference with her, which had meant she not only had a room mate for her double hotel room, but she also had a built-in dinner companion. No such luck this year. Due to budget cuts, Carla was forced to attend the three day conference alone.

It was just Friday, the end of day one; and that only a half day. Whether it was the jet lag from her four plus hour flight from San Diego to Baltimore or the four plus hours of boring if informative lectures on the grief process, Carla was tired and ready to go to sleep in her decidedly beige single hotel room.

In fact, she was just about to hail her waiter and request her food to go when she looked up into a rather familiar face. She could not quite place him, but she knew that she should know those intelligent and somewhat sad brown eyes. She supposed though that sad eyes where something to expect at this conference. Still, despite the shaggy greyish beard and dishelmed salt-and-pepper hair, Carla knew this man was someone she knew rather well. She just could not place him at the moment.

When he opened his mouth and that deep distinctive Eastern European accent washed over her, Carla recognized him instantly. Yosef Darvoski and his wife Katrina had been one of her clients during her work study. Their unborn daughter had been diagnosed with Trisomy 18, a genetic birth defect incompatible with life. Their defect meant that their third child and only daughter would either be still born, die shortly after birth or at best not survive childhood. It was not something any parent should have to face, but something her families faced daily.

'I know you probably don't remember me, but you helped our family when my daughter Amelia died,' he said in decidedly improved English.

Carla remembered the family well as she nodded at his words. They had barely arrived from the Ukraine when his wife, who was eight months pregnant, was given the diagnosis. Both of them though professionals and well-educated in their own country still struggled with English. It had been a challenge to meet their complex needs because of the language and cultural barrier. She nodded, 'Yes, I remember you. How are you doing?' She inquired politely.

His broad shoulders shrugged in a typically American gesture. 'I am here as founder of an organization that helps immigrants understand their options and rights when facing a terminal illness with their children.' He smiled weakly, 'Professionally, I have finished a course that allows me to practice as a psychologist in the USA as well.'

Carla felt the deep sadness that washed over him as he looked down at the tiled floor. It was a look she had seen too many times. She did not need to hear his next words to know what was coming. 'Katrina took the boys back home two years ago.' His chest expanded visibly as he drew a deep breathe of resolve to continue this tale. 'I suppose I knew all along. She never got over Amelia's death. She said it was my fault for bringing us to this country.'

Looking up once more, he shrugged and forced himself to smile. 'But I could not pass without telling you how very much you helped me then,' the smile on his handsome face was genuine now as he bowed in an old-World manner. 'Carla Forde, I am forever in your debt for the hope you brought me when there was no hope at all. If I can ever be of any assistance, please call.'

Carla recognized his polite exit, but especially now she did not want to return to her small, dark and impersonal hotel room alone. So instead she asked, 'Would you care to join me, Yosef?'

Over dinner, drinks and coffee, they exchanged polite conversation; personal and professional. Carla was intrigued by the stories of immigrant families helped by the charity founded by this intelligent and compassionate man, who had so briefly passed through her world.

Despite his claims, Carla doubted very much that her inadequate words and inexperienced efforts had made any real difference. The man before her was a survivor. She was always fascinated by why some people found strength and purpose in tragedy while others got lost in it...sometimes forever.

They spent so long caught up in the conversation that both were shocked when the waiter politely brought them the check saying that the bar would be closing shortly. Carla blushed that she had monopolized her companion's time so completely. She blushed more when he insisted on paying the bill; saying it was the very least he could do. They had parted ways at the elevator; his room was several floors above her own.

The next day Carla was delighted when Yosef joined her for the continental breakfast; insisting that they should meet up for lunch as well. The day had somehow seemed less long and a bit brighter knowing that she had someone to talk with.

Over dinner at a trendy restaurant in Baltimore's Harborplace, they had discussed the lectures and workshops they had attended. They shared views on sometimes conflicting and cutting-edge therapies. Carla admitted that she was fascinated and more than a tad in awe of this man, who she remembered as quiet and unassuming. She very much hoped it would be a professional partnership that would continue after the conference, but she dare not think beyond that.

Yosef became somber once more as they walked back to their hotel in the heart of the Inner Harbor. As the moon light danced on the choppy waters, he spoke of the pain of Katrina's desertion and the void of missing his sons. Even though they spoke on the phone, emailed and even used Webcams, it was not the same; he said. Carla reached out slowly and laced her fingers through his. She squeezed gently at his much larger hand; an empathetic response that had become common to her.

So she was surprised when Yosef tugged gently at her hand; until her body was leaning against his. Even through the jacket she wore in response to the cool night winds, she could feel her nipples pebble within the confines of her white cotton bra.

He whispered her name poetically a moment before his shadowed face descended on hers. The kiss was tentative. His beard and moustache tickled a bit at her skin. But there was a warmth and firmness to his lips that ignited an answering need in Carla. She found herself stepping into his embrace. Her free arm wrapped about his neck and drew him closer.

Yosef smiled a moment later when he broke the contact. 'I apologize for taking such liberties with a friend and colleague,' he said. Squeezing her hand in his own, they resumed their walk in silence. Each caught up in musings of their own.

Carla's thoughts were clear. She genuinely liked this man. And while she might not have dared consider it before, since that kiss clearly showed that he had some interest in her beyond friendship, gratitude and professional courtesy, she let her mind turn over other possibilities; like a casual sexual encounter. She knew that he was from a different culture and she did not want to offend him by being too forward. Yet it had been over nine months since she had enjoyed a sexual relationship (except with her pocket rocket of course). That brief kiss had ignited both her curiosity and her latent desire.

She was though more than a bit concerned about the possibility of, frankly, getting naked with anyone. It had been over six years since she had exposed her less than perfect curves to another person. Even in the gym, she was always careful to be completely covered when changing or showering. The prospect of exposing rolls and cellulite to man was daunting in itself.

It was those thoughts and the ensuing debate that consumed Carla for the rest of the journey back to the hotel. But by the time they approached the gilded elevators in the lobby, she had made her choice. In for an ounce, in for a pound as the saying goes; or in her case two-hundred and five of them.

Pausing as they approached the doors, she stopped Yosef with a firm tug at his hand. Clumsily she began her explanation, 'I don't want to offend you in any way, Yosef. I know this may be more bold than you are used to, but...' She drew a deep breathe of courage to continue with her proposition, 'I like you...and if you are interested...' She stammered over her next words, '...well...would you care to come up to my room?' Her pale grey eyes were locked to the shining, white, stone tiles of the lobby floor by the time she finished her somewhat rehearsed speech with a huge sigh.

There was a brief pause. Carla was too nervous to even look up at her friend's face for signs of his answer as she suddenly realized that her new-found boldness might actually endanger their professional relationship. She was just about to turn and rush embarrassed into the bank of elevators; hoping and praying to avoid him the next day.

Suddenly his fingers squeezed tightly at her own. His deep voice was low as he responded simply, 'Yes, thank you very much.'

Carla smiled as she dared at last to lift her eyes tentatively to his. She was pleased to see that his broad smiled extended to a light in his gaze as well. She visibly relaxed a bit as he led them the few short feet to the elevators and pressed the up button.

The silence that hung between them was uncomfortable as each considered the magnitude of this decision. Carla did notice though that Yosef pressed the button for his floor rather than her own. The elevator ascended too slowly; as she turned this choice over and over in her mind.

By the time the doors opened on his floor, she had half decided to make a lame excuse and flee instead to the safety of her own room. But then she saw the warmth of those dark brown eyes and what might have been the first real smile she had seen in the whole time she had known him. So she returned the smile weakly and allowed him to draw her down the too-long hall to his room.

He fumbled with the card-key to his room. It took three tries before he was finally able to throw open the doors to his dark room. He stood to the side with his arm extending in welcome; waiting for her to take this final step and cross the threshold. Carla bit her lower lip in concentration and sent a silent prayer heavenward as she did. Yosef switched on the lights and closed the door behind them before turning her in his arms.

'Where were we?' he smiled a moment before his lips once more descended upon hers. But where the other kiss had been sweet and almost tentative, this one was bolder and more passionate. She held her breathe as she felt his tongue running along her bottom lip; seeking entry into the confines of her mouth. She moaned at the caress; it was enough to allow him the entry he sought as his tongue surged between her parted lips to dance against hers. Her arms wrapped about his neck as she pressed against him. Her breathing was getting heavier as she reminded herself not to let lust run wild; lest she frighten him off with her boldness.

Carla need not have worried about that. She might have gone without sex for nine months, but it had been over six years for Yosef. Now that he had a warm, willing and appealing woman in his arms, he had no intention of stopping until they were both satisfied. He used his large hands at the small of her back to guide her towards the king bed in the center of the room. The short journey seemed far too long given the rising level of both their needs.

The moment that Carla felt the firmness of the bed at the back of her thighs she ran her hands from his neck down to the front of his shirt. Her fingers began to fumble with the buttons as she felt his large hands move to the zipper at the back of her dress. She was so caught up in the heady desires of the moment that she did not even think to ask that he lower the lights for her modesty's sake.

In moments they were clad in only their underwear as Yosef half-pushed and half-guided her towards the softness of pillow-top mattress that had seemed so incredibly lonely the night before. His large hands came up to gasp the soft fullness of her breast as his hips brushed back and forth against the open juncture of her thighs; mimicking the act that they both wanted so desperately.

Carla pushed at the offending white cotton of his briefs as she opened her soft thighs more; the tiny bubbles of cellulite that she knew would pucker there was just about the fatherliest thing from her mind at that moment. Her thoughts were more concerned with satiating the wild need growing inside of her for the past nine months.

Yosef obliged his lover. His hand released the soft flesh of her breast long enough to dispose of his briefs before returning to their previous exploration. But this time, he was not satisfied with merely touching the white cotton of her bra. If she could demand his flesh, why could he not reciprocate? His fingers moved around to her back as he fumbled in frustration with the clasp there. He was just about to tear the damned thing off when Carla must have realized the inequity of the situation; reaching around she dispensed with the offensive clasp herself. Yosef practically roared as he stripped the material down her arms and tossed it heedlessly across the room.

Now only one piece of material stood between them and what they both wanted. Carla, who had never dared for a single minute to believe this night would end with such wild abandon, had donned her industrial-strength granny panties, because her period should be starting soon. But despite the fetish that Hugh Grant's character might have espoused for such underwear in the popular Bridgette Jones ' movies, at the moment they were merely a cumbersome nuisances to both Yosef and Carla; one to be disposed of quickly.

This was exactly what Yosef did, with Carla's assistance as she lifted her wide hips so that he could draw them quickly down her legs and toss them against the wall to join her bra. Neither was in the mood for delays once this final barrier was removed. Carla opened her soft thighs wider as Yosef fisted his hard cock and guided it into her wet cunt. They both were breathless at the feel of his first deep thrust into her welcoming depths. Yosef groaned loudly as he began to thrust quickly into the warmth of her lush softness. Carla closed her soft grey eyes and tossed back her dirty blonde head as her hips thrust up to meet him; her body already trembling in a powerful orgasm.

Yosef was blinded with the power of his lust and need as he pounded away at her wet cunt for several minutes. Each deep thrust of his cock inside her was affirmation of life; a powerful reminder that he had not died with his daughter; that he was still a man, a man with needs. The blood was pounding loudly in his ears and he was practically mindless as he felt the powerful rush of his seed rising from deep within him and racing out his cock into the willingly and welcoming woman beneath him.

Carla clutched tightly at her lover's shoulders as another powerful orgasm washed over her. Her mind was equally muddled by the powerful and cleansing intimacy they had shared. With a huge sigh, Yosef collapsed onto Carla; rolling just enough that she did not bear his full weight.

Both were silent; lost in their own thoughts. For Yosef, it was the first time in almost a decade that he had felt truly alive. It was a rush beyond even that first youthful experience he had shared with Katrina. While it might not last, it was a cathartic storm that cleared away the blazing heat of despair that had been his life since coming to this country and losing all that he had held dear. For Carla, it was an affirmation of her femininity. It proved that despite her weight issues she could still function as a desirable and highly sexual woman.

Within moments both were snoring peacefully in blessed slumber. They awoke twice more in the night to repeat the affirming and liberating lovemaking; as if to prove to themselves that it had not all just been some wonderful dream. While to some the next morning might have proven awkward, Yosef and Carla found that the sexual intimacy they had shared only deepened their professional respect for one another and growing friendship.

Carla had returned to her room for a shower and to dress for the day, but they had agreed to meet once more over the continental breakfast. They laughed and shared once more their plans for the final day of the conference before checking out of their rooms and going their separate ways to workshops and lectures. But at the end of the day they shared a cab to the airport and a bite to eat in an overly priced restaurant in the airport. They exchanged business cards and even personal emails as well as another brief kiss before parting for different planes and different lives.

Over the next year, they emailed one another at least once a week. Mostly, it was strictly professional; news about a new therapy, request for information on a certain defect or just to complain about the ever-present bureaucracy that hampered their work with families in need. But occasionally, it crossed the line into the personal; Yosef was one of the first people to learn that Carla was dating a Master Sergeant from the Marine base near her office. Carla was the first person that Yosef called to tell that Katrina had finally agreed his sons could join him for the whole summer.

So it was that the next year, when the annual conference was held in nearby Long Beach, Carla and her fiancé Mike found their small beach-side bungalow filled to capacity with Yosef and his two teenage sons. This year when the long day's lectures and workshops were done they made the hour plus drive Long Beach down the Pacific Coast Highway to join their families. After the conference, Mike and Carla enjoyed a mini-vacation as they shared the thrills of Sea World, the zoo and Disneyland with Yosef and his sons.