My Sister, Fiona Ch. 02: Susan's Story

His female companion looked to be quite cute, possibly Eurasian. That combination of genes tends to produce good-looking guys and incredibly beautiful women. She also looked to be freezing. No wonder. She only had a cloth jacket. I passed over a feather and down jacket I never wore any more.

"Try this."

"Thank you." She put it on. It was only a little big. "Oh, it's warm!"

"If you two would rather come in and chat here, I can put some coffee on. It would only take a few minutes." Jim looked inquiringly at Beatrice.

"We can't put you out like that," she protested weakly. It was pretty clear she wasn't interested in going another few blocks in the cold to the nearest coffee house, where it would likely be pretty cool inside.

"The landlord's being good with heat this week. No point in freezing your ass off when you don't have to. Come on in."

"Thanks."

I took my coat off and they doffed their togs and boots. The coats ended up on the chair in the living room. It did double duty as my study.

They followed me into the kitchen when I went in to put on the coffee. I dragged some crackers, cheese and something sweet out of the cupboards for us to munch on. If I was right, Jim probably hadn't had anything decent to eat for days. Beatrice looked at me with kind of a grudging approval. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she was his mother, watching over her little boy in the presence of a woman of doubtful virtue. Well, I suppose in some ways I was a woman of doubtful virtue, but it was never negotiable virtue. I couldn't be bought for money, though it had been tried a couple of times. Expensive gifts rather than actual money in one case.

Once I had the coffee going I sat down with the two of them at the kitchen table.

"Beatrice is kind of difficult to explain in my life, Susan," Jim started. "She's a sort of combination guardian angel, mother and muse. Actually, she's my next-door neighbour. She's married to Wanda and they have a little girl and she kind of adopted me, too. She bullies me into eating now and again and doing the laundry and washing the dishes, stuff like that. I owe her a lot for that, and she's been following the thesis for the last year. I try difficult parts with her and she makes me clean them up, make them clearer. She pushes me to explain, to question the sources, to look at the information in a different way."

Beatrice nodded at this explanation of her role in Jim's life. While it didn't much matter, I was kind of glad to find that she wasn't Jim's significant other. Part of the role she played was clearly as Jim's significant mother. I grinned to myself at the thought, and I'm pretty sure Beatrice was following my thinking, because she traded me back a rueful grin.

"So what have you managed?" I asked when the coffee was done and we could get into serious talk.

"I think I have a useful alternative view of what the Spanish authorities in Mexico were trying to achieve. Most authorities seem to think they were more domineering than I do. The evidence can support my view, and that's what I wanted to do, present a way to look at it differently. Multiple perspectives lets us understand it better."

"I'm pleased you were able to get it done, then."

The three of us chatted about Jim's achievement, and the work he still had to do. Then we wandered off into talk about other things, mostly in and around Riverton and the university community. Beatrice surprised me at one point.

"I gather you were one of the Group's sharings a few weeks ago." She looked to be some combination of sympathetic and disapproving, protectiveness for Jim overlying it all. I wasn't all that sure why she should be feeling protective of him concerning me. She was a sort of mother surrogate, but he didn't have any interest in me.

"No. I wasn't warned in advance, so I bailed out on them. I'd like to think I'd never do that sort of thing, but who knows, if the right set of circumstances ever developed."

"Just wondered."

A little later her maternal interest in protecting Jim became somewhat clearer.

"You know, Susan, I really appreciate this chance to get to know you. Jim's said so much. He's always wondering if you'd like something or not, or what you might say about something that happened. I almost feel as if I know you."

Well, that was a surprise. I hadn't actually thought Jim knew whether I was anywhere on the face of the Earth. It didn't hurt the old ego, either. So there was someone out there who wasn't really family who cared whether I lived or died. Even cared what I might think about something. That was a nice feeling.

Eventually we were talked out and the coffee was gone - related events, I'm sure - and they were putting on their coats.

"So, Susan, can I call you again?" Jim asked.

"Yes. I'm going home for Christmas, so sometime in the new year if you want."

"I'll do that."

Beatrice and I exchanged polite so nice to have met yous. Jim thanked me for letting him share his achievement. He gave me a cheek kiss as a goodbye. I suppose we should have wished each other Merry Christmas, too, but I think we were all thinking about how nice it was that Jim had finally got the thesis dragon off his back.

Christmas was more what waited at home. I had a good dose of family loving, got to feel Fi's baby kick - she was pretty close to bowling ball big - kidded around with Josh and exchanged love with three sets of parents. All of it was the sort of fuel I'd need to make it through the next few months before the tour business opened up again. I'd been guaranteed the job come spring, and that was another confidence builder.

Jim called a couple of nights after I got back.

"Hi Susan, good to hear your voice."

"Yours, too." I was a little surprised that hearing Jim's voice actually had been a bit of a rush.

"A couple of things, one business, one pleasure."

"Are you a business first kind of guy?"

"I suppose. I usually find it gives me more time for pleasure." I could almost see his funny little grin over the phone.

"Okay, what's the business," I prodded.

"We edit a journal in the history department here, aimed mostly at aspects of the history of this region. Sometimes there are articles of national importance that feature the region or people from here originally, that sort of thing."

"I know that. I got some of my tour guide script out of it. It's pretty respectable."

"Yeah, I'd say it was top of the line, proper footnotes, refereed articles, the whole bit. Anyway, we want you to do an article on some aspect of the city's history for us."

"Not just a note?" I knew that journal usually carried four or five notes in each issue - it was a quarterly - that touched briefly on some aspect of the region's history.

"No, a full-fledged article if you would."

"Yeah, I could do that, I guess." I was all calm scholarly indifference. Inside I wanted to squeal. Me, with a published academic paper! It was too much to take in. The subject was, for me, obvious. "Do you think they'd take one on the struggles of the first widow Armsworthy?"

"Yeah, that sounds like just the thing. Interesting subject, good story, heavily documented - you can do that can't you?" I nodded happily. "Susan, you can do that can't you?"

"Uh, sure, there are several diaries and some newspaper accounts but not too much official." Nodding didn't do a lot when you're on the phone.

"Gender history, social history, lots of the basics. It would be great."

"You don't think they'll be upset because it would essentially be the history of a bawdy house?"

"No, lets them feel wicked in a good cause."

"Okay, I'll do it. How's your thesis?"

"No problem. I've been working on the revisions and they're coming along fine. My adviser says it might even be publishable. I'll look into that after I get it through my committee, but I don't think that will be a big problem."

"Oh Jim, I'm so pleased for you."

"Well, about that. I can only work on the revisions for five or six hours a day. Any longer and my eyes go fuzzy and I start changing T H E into T E H, stuff like that, a complete waste of time. So I'm in a position to go out and about a little. I'd like to go out and about with you if you can put up with me. How does Friday at seven sound?"

"Sounds wonderful." We were on the phone for another half hour but I don't think there was much content to what we said.

It was a wonderful courtship. I didn't think of it that way at the time, but looking back I can see Jim was easing us into a relationship. I went out with him Friday, nothing too threatening, and when he brought me home he kissed me, a little more than a friend's kiss. Then the next week we went out Friday and Saturday. The next week, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. The kisses got stronger, sometimes from him and sometimes from me, and there were more of them and hugs and caresses. The Friday we'd been half an hour or more saying good night.

The Saturday, when we got to my door I invited Jim up.

"I've never had a guy up here, so I hope you don't trip on a bra."

"That's a true mark of trust, Susan. Humbling, a little."

"The invitation, or the bra?"

"I hope you took your panties off the shower rail."

Jim didn't make a move on me, and I let him alone. We just sat and chatted far into the night. I think it was about 2:30 when Jim finally left. It had been quite wonderful.

I invited him in the next Friday, and it was different. Just as lovely, in its way, but we were intensely aware of each other as sexual beings from the moment I closed the door.

Jim couldn't take his eyes off me. That was fine. I was looking at him, too. All over. Maybe he wasn't the biggest guy around, but he was solid. He hadn't been eating all that well and he was a little pasty from all the indoor work, but that could be fixed. My planning session got a little jolt. Obviously I was looking forward to having him around for quite a while. I'd never really thought that way about another guy before. We'd never even had sex. Well, that was going to change.

That was another first, for me. The way I thought about Jim, the sex wasn't going to be a deal breaker. Oh, if he had mad rapist fantasies he wanted to try out or was into bondage or stuff like that, maybe, but I couldn't see that in him. I'd maybe had too much sex, even if it was expected of a single woman, and I'd more or less sworn off for the last couple of months. I was more into caring, and I'd found that with Jim.

He moved toward me with a lazy grace.

"Tell me if you aren't ready for this, Susan," he murmured. "Because it's all I've been thinking about for the past year and a half."

"I think I'm ready, Jim." I felt a touch of wetness between my legs. "More than ready, perhaps. Looking forward to it."

No more words. Let there be no more words, I thought. Let there just be feeling. And so it was.

We undressed each other carefully, sensually, willing that nothing would break the mood. Then we were naked with each other in my bedroom. I ran my hand over shoulders that seemed broader than when he was dressed. There was promise there.

Jim wrapped his arms around my waist. After a few moments of just enjoying the feel of me, a sensation that sent fire through my blood, he pulled me in for a kiss. His hands slid over the planes of my back as he kissed me, warm and loving. He pulled his head back.

"I put off getting serious with you because I thought it would be a mistake."

"How so?"

"I thought it would be a distraction. That I'd never get my work done. I was wrong."

"In what way?" I was fascinated by him. Here we were naked and he was apologizing for not making an effort earlier, instead of proceeding to make love to me until I was senseless.

"All I could do was to think about you, instead of some dusty Spanish archive. I imagined how it might be between us. My imagination was all wrong. It's so much better than I ever thought."

"How does that make you wrong?"

"It was wrong because I had no idea of the peace you could bring. The joy of being with you would banish my worries, and I'd actually get more done even while I devoted my life to pleasing you."

"But we haven't done anything yet."

"Yet. What a wonderful word. I want you to know that I care for you, Susan. I care a great deal. And I want to say that before we get lost in what I know will be marvellous."

He held me out at arm's length for a moment.

"Oh, Susan, look at you. Could there be any one more beautiful? Not for me. Could there be any one more just plain wonderful?" Obviously not to him. My heart lurched, but there was no way to reply. I was no virgin goddess, but I'd never convince him otherwise. I had no wish to. Being someone's goddess just felt right.

He pulled me back into him. Our bodies meshed. My breasts flattened against his chest. My nipples rose. My loins felt the force of his arousal. And we kissed.

Jim started by kissing lightly along my mouth from one corner to the other, little kisses, fluttery kisses, kisses that warmed me. Not heat, not yet, just the warmth of shared love and caring. I was too deep into the sensations for "love" to penetrate my consciousness and break the mood, the feeling, the time. It felt right. I kissed back, too. I was gentle, the way he was kissing me. I opened my lips, just a little. He ran his tongue along my upper lip, then my lower lip. I could feel fluttering below my stomach.

When I opened my mouth wider for him, Jim's tongue was a tentative explorer. Mine was fiercer. Jim didn't respond to my passionate entry. He stayed slow, calm, exchanging caring for passion. I backed off. Our tongues met, not duelling, greeting each other like old friends rather than competitive conquerors. We explored each other slowly and completely. Our tongues made love.

I knew Jim wanted me. The strength of his erection made that clear, jammed into my abdomen as it was. But Jim wanted me in a new way. He wanted me in a more permanent way. He wanted to share lovemaking. He wanted it to be lovemaking. How did I know? No idea. But it felt right.

We broke for air and returned to our gentle but sensual kiss. Now our hands started to wander. Mine dropped to his firm buttocks, pulling him against me. His did the same. He ran his hands over the smooth skin of my bottom, explored briefly, returned to caress, then to return my pressure.

"You know, the bed would be more comfortable," he suggested.

Since my knees were beginning to give way I could only murmur "Mmhmmn."

He led me to the bed and threw back the covers. Neither of us wanted to put out the light. There were memories to be made. We were proposing to make love. Love needn't be hidden in the darkness.

We each got into the bed, eager to share our bodies but neither wanting to let passion override our enjoyment of the feelings of love and caring we had for each other. We continued to caress each other as we explored each other in the light. I found a ridge of scar near Jim's knee.

"Skateboard accident," he murmured when he felt me discover it.

It felt special to be getting to know someone so intimately, to have him learning me as well. A mutual sharing of pleasures. It was only after we'd drunk in the sensations of each other's body, from head to foot, that we attended to the more responsive areas. We'd learned in our explorations of touches that gave pleasure. Jim attended to my breasts. My nipples rose again to his touch and then his tongue and his lips. I lay back to enjoy his attentions. He suckled me, gently, and fire swept through me again. I held back from forcing a coupling, or other attentions. It was clear that he wanted to please me, but he wanted to absorb my pleasure, too. My need was growing but I could delay my satisfaction, for a few moments.

Jim kissed his way from my breasts to my ears, along the line of my jaw, a little nip of my earlobe signalling completion, and enticement. My body lurched. He repeated along the other side of my face, dropped down to swirl his tongue in the hollow of my throat, lifted to kiss me again, a long, loving kiss that turned passionate for us both.

He retreated, dropped his mouth to tongue along the hollow between my breasts, moving down over my stomach, swirling briefly in my navel, sending sparks shooting once again. All this time I lay back enjoying his attentions, my hands and fingers fluttering over as much of him as I could reach, paying special attention to those places I'd already learned would give him extra pleasure.

Jim was inflaming me, now. His lips and tongue were active in my most intimate place, the place I wanted him to be so badly. Every touch from him inflamed my desire. I felt that I was being pushed by a velvet hand into a place of joy, and then, suddenly, I was there, floating, all of my nerve endings afire and suddenly bliss. I was quite some time floating down. He stayed with me, his tongue just touching now and again, sending another shiver through me each time.

By the time we joined I was beyond wanting him. I was sure I'd die if he didn't complete me. When he was in I felt so fulfilled. It was as if we were joined, two made into one. Jim let us enjoy that sense of oneness, then commenced a slow rhythm. He never changed it. The rhythm of the ages it was. It seemed a long, slow walk up a gentle slope, but then suddenly I was with Jim in that special place and my body writhed with his while we shared the glory of our releases. Never like this.

"You're addictive, you know," I told him.

"I hope so, because I'm hooked."

We made love - made love, not just had sex - another couple of times that night. It seemed we could never get enough of each other or of that gentle loving. Then we fell asleep in my bed, curled into each other. I spooned him. In the morning we fed our lusts again before we arose.

"This is what I think forever feels like," Jim told me after. I didn't know how to respond.

We met frequently after that, sometimes at his place and sometimes at mine. Always we made love. We shared other aspects of our lives as well.

I remember that after the first night I spent at Jim's Beatrice came in after breakfast. She smiled at Jim and just hugged me.

"You're so good for him, you know," she told me. I didn't know that. I was more concerned with Jim being good for me. It was a while before I figured out that making things good for Jim was important to me, probably more important than anything else in my life. I could trust Jim to make things good for me. That's when I knew I could spend a long time making things good for him.

Jim helped me finish up the paper on the bawdy house. I helped him edit his thesis. We made life better for both of us. We didn't take from each other so much as we gave to each other, and joyed in the pleasure we conveyed.

Things moved fast for us, too. In the middle of February, Jim came over for a little loving which I was anticipating with a great deal of glee. It had been almost twenty-four hours since we'd last shared our bodies. We had it bad. He wanted to ask me a question, he said. It was when he dropped to his knees that I figured out what the question was. I almost said yes before he could get the question out. He wasn't planning on asking if I needed more coffee cream.

"Susan, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man on Earth?"

"Yes," I sobbed. I was crying. It was too wonderful. I could hardly see the ring he held out. It was absolutely beautiful. It was fantastic. It wasn't until the next morning that I figured out it was a small diamond with a couple of tiny emerald chips to give it colour and character. It was Jim's heart in that ring, and he gave it to me. It was beautiful.

"We're engaged now," he whispered to me.