The Long Highway Pt. 12

Morning with Pam. I rolled over and before you knew it I was between her legs. She was waking, murmuring happily, and I brought her legs up around me, wondered whether to raise her thighs over my shoulders or not. I was thinking about a pose I'd seen in a movie and liked- stupid as that may sound; it turned me on to replicate the scene in the movie that had rung a bell with me.

I opted for my arms over her, not entwined, her legs not lifted above my shoulders but free, her tubular thighs up, knees bent, ankles and feet dangling in the air. That left my hands free range. Over my shoulders, her thighs would have been folded straight back, aligned to my torso, where they'd have blocked my access to her face, her breasts. Clearing the space between us, I was, happily, able to get my fingers through her bushy, thick hair, and kiss her breasts. Morning wake-up call.

It was a fucking position for sure and I was nearly all the way hard and plugged the head into her.

"Hey, what?" Pam said, coming all the way awake now.

I understood. Just because we were in a position for fucking didn't mean we were necessarily going to be fucking.

She was surprised, maybe not ready, but I could feel she was getting wet and pushed forward, in. I didn't think it hurt her.

We were locked together, then rolled apart, my cock still connected but basically that was all. I tried to get the rest of us back together.

"Sorry," Pam said, "I always do this."

"Yeah," I said, too frustrated not to be honest. "Every time I'm feeling good you do or say something to break my feeling. Not only in bed. On the subway the other day too."

She'd spoiled the ride.

Like she nearly had this time, though I was determined to get back into it.

We tried but things weren't working out between us.

"And it's always been like this, hasn't it?" Pam said.

"Yes."

The phrase "break my feeling" was from Pam. Ironically, Akemi used it too, but for a very different meaning. When she said, "break my feeling," she meant orgasm. That shows how opposed the two women's characters were.

The thing was, Pam was happy in our relationship, at least seemed so from my point of view. Only I wasn't. And she knew it.

I was looking for someone else and found Akemi. At first, she was with another guy- I saw them around, small guy, a student at the college like her. I asked about them one time when they came in view, talked to a classmate of theirs I thought might know something.

"Yeah, they're still together. He must be serious about her," he said.

We were in the lounge area, out of their hearing range, and there was a murmur of other voices around us. Not a very busy place but far from silent. The picture window shed light directly on them, from my point of view fixed amid those who moved about. Akemi and he made a tableau that seemed meaningful, timeless.

I felt the bottom fall out of my emotions as the student continued.

"And she must see something in him too. Not sure what. Heh heh. I don't think it's money. He's young and black after all."

Not likely he had much, the classmate meant.

"Or maybe he does. You never know."

He was joking, of course (funny guy, a real character), knew Akemi wouldn't be interested in that twenty year old's money. I didn't want to speculate on what else he might have that attracted her.

He was graduate student, older like her.

Turned out the pair weren't linked romantically but just hanging out, collaborating on a project (he was a musician, jazz and classical). And I think the other guy knew that, saw my interest in Akemi and was pulling my chain. What student could resist the opportunity to goad a vulnerable teacher?

It was great when I finally got my hands to Akemi's glistening breasts. Of course, Pam's glistened too..

-- --

My illustrious past.

There's a lot you don't know about me because there's only so much that can be put into words in the time available.

Last night Akemi saw me looking online at a picture.

"What's that?"

"It's a travel poster of Vietnam."

"..."

"I like Vietnam. The people, I mean."

Less sure about the place. It was sort of a mess.

"I understand," Akemi said.

I'd had a girlfriend from there. Akemi knew but not of my feelings for her. I never talked about them but they didn't go away.

I remembered a trip to China I made while visiting Akemi in Japan. Short trip, just a few days. I was struck by how different people were there, ambitious, even aggressive.

A guy approached me, squat, middle-aged, in a baggy or wrinkled, even shabby white suit, and started up a conversation. He seemed to think as a foreigner, American, I might have money.

In front of us was a river steps led down to. A plant in a white sculptural fountain-like pot stood before us where the water lapped. It was neglected, overgrown.

"We can do something better than that," the Chinese said to me. "Redo the riverfront." He raised both hands expansively, in a sort of arcing motion, as if illustrating the boldness of his vision.

"Where would you get the money for it?" I asked.

He laughed in a sneering way, dismissive of my question but not unfriendly. On the contrary.

"There's K-2 money!"

I guessed he meant funds the Chinese government had put up at the turn of the century to support innovators with projects that seemed plausible. Some of the dough remained, apparently, still unused.

Why build something ugly on that waterfront, I thought. Just leave it as is. The natural beauty needs no manmade embellishment- though a cleanup might be a good idea; the river looked polluted, its darkness a bad color.

But the prospective entrepreneur had other ideas.

He thought as a foreigner able to travel in Asia I might be able to provide backing for his scheme. He also seemed to think I'd know the language of high finance, which I didn't and which he threw out, term after term, in English of course, as if to impress me as a potential investor.

He said he wanted a big project, but one that was environmentally sustainable. Call me cynical, but my impression was that he didn't care at all about the latter, just saw it as a selling point.

"How about a million bicycles?" I said, half-joking, before realizing that had, of course, already been done.

I noted that in China it was possible to make changes that affected the whole society at once, like the "one child policy" because the country had a centralized government, different from the U.S. Even response to the pandemic was left to local lawmakers.

I would have liked to spend longer in Japan with Akemi that trip but went home early, even though it was still a break between semesters, teaching wouldn't resume for a while yet. I realized a reason was to keep my mother company at Christmas. I didn't want her to be alone on the holiday. I saw my emotional tie was strong, like it or not. I'd rather have stayed on with Akemi but felt I couldn't in good conscience. It was less a sense of obligation that drew me away than the pull of emotion. I couldn't stand the thought of my mother by herself on Christmas, wanted to be in her kitchen, where I knew she liked having me.

As I've said, I wondered if I'd developed a mother-son relationship with Pam, before Akemi.

Anyway, I find it hard to leave people. Don't we all?

I also saw online (along with the poster ) an article about a woman leaving her country. It reminded me of my break-up with Pam, how sad that had felt even though I'd wanted to leave her, be with Akemi.

The young woman, focus of the story, didn't know her departure from the land and people she knew was permanent. She was at a party that was in effect a going-away party- fancy dress affair, looked like a debutante ball or the like, with a lot of white lace, satin, crinoline, whatever. A band that brought to my mind a tiara held back her straight hair that trailed to her bare shoulders. Maybe the dress was strapless or had spaghetti-straps. What got my attention instead was the pathos of her eyes as shown in the photos accompanying the article- in the society pages, I think. Why was I looking there? Good question. I just stumbled across it while scrolling. The deep dark questions in her eyes made me stop and look.

She was pretty, with a face both innocent and brimming with ideals, hope for the world and herself, I felt. From her open expression, questioning, looking but not judging, yet needing, I sensed a generous character, a trust in her ability to do good things for others, fulfilling herself that way rather than going only for what she alone wanted.

At her side was a guy her age or slightly older, handsome in a formal black suit. He was described as her escort. They didn't have a love relationship. Too bad, I thought. She needed someone and he looked fine for her, tall, of what I might call noble bearing- that is, his expression also seemed to reflect fine feelings, nicely matching hers. His good looks were a gift of nature, the sculpted features, square jaw and all the rest, high brow, tousled black hair (seems a lot of guys have that, at least if you judge from my writing- think in this case of Michelangelo's "David," ringlets falling across that high brow), but his gaze, the set of his jaw, the calm of his mouth, owed also to his character. He was a good man, you sensed, as she was a good woman. But she would leave and not see more of him.

His presence with her was a formality.

He wore a watch, I noted (there was a photo of it), expensive one, Omega or something, with the name Hemingway on the face. Was it a special edition in his honor, celebrating him as an outdoorsman, traveler, adventurer? I found that idea funny.

I've traveled too, had my share of adventures (I'm trying to relate them here) but Hemingway I'm not, though I also write. Yeah, funny. As if having the dough to sport a watch like that confers some rare personality traits, courage etc. That guy, though, really did seem extraordinary. His face and bearing summoned thoughts of "noblesse oblige," real virtue. You sensed in an emergency he'd be the one who didn't run away. Who knows? Maybe just my impression. I found myself really wishing he and the lonely, hope-filled debutante in her pale peach dress could stay together.

Yes, I missed Pam sometimes and still do, but most of all the article and the picture of Vietnam (tall mountain with a lake before it, all pale blues, with fishermen in boats, silhouetted timeless figures- yes, I'd also had a girlfriend from there, unforgettable) made me want Akemi, to go to bed with her and pump all my feeling into her, pump my rump, hard and strong as she grips it, as it trying to tear my flesh.