Georgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 04bypjstewart50©
The room was not empty after Kiefer left. Something of him remained. I couldn't bring myself to leave the bed. Too warm. Too many recent, very recent, memories. I wanted somehow to capture them before a long shower threatened to rinse away even a smote of their potency.
My only concern, and it was not a strong one, was what kind of flack Kiefer might take from Shirley. I had learned that he was not, as Shirley thought, daunted by her imposing personality. In fact, he indulged her by pretending to be. She may be upset by not knowing his whereabouts, but he'd not let her get under his skin.
Kiefer was adept at sliding past trouble spots. I'd seen him maneuver around difficulties with ease, as long as the difficulties didn't touch him too closely. He adored his mother - that I knew. But she was less an influence on him than she believed. He'd been on his own for a very long time - over two decades. Kiefer needed everyone and no one.
As he exited my room, he threw a sentence and a question over his shoulder.
"I have Mom to pacify and some phone calls to make this morning, but I'd love to treat you to lunch. Be ready around 11:30?"
I nodded affirmatively and smiled as Kiefer went out the door. It gave me plenty of time to daydream and to get ready. The only problem was not knowing what to get ready for. Casual? Formal? Crap. I'd think of something.
I continued to daydream. But the delicious dreams turned troubling after a bit. Things seemed to be moving so fast. What did I know of this man really? That is, what did I know of him intimately. Sure, I knew him better in this way now than I had last night, but what did I really know? Suddenly I was very nervous. Had I dreamed all of this? Surely. But no. His smell infused the pillow, the sheets, the room, my nose.
I shook my head in wonder to no one but myself. Amazing. Lunch with this man. This man I'd been studying for a long time now. Wondering. Wondering what the more intimate side would be like. And now I was learning. Georgia would always hold special memories for me, especially if these were to be the only ones I'd have of him. Again the word "lunch" popped into my thoughts. But lunch where? What to wear?
Stupid, I thought to myself. You're stupid. Call him. I had his cell phone number saved on my own which lay on the bedside table. I picked it up, found the number, and punched the dial button. I didn't expect him to answer, but he did.
"Hey," he said. "It's not 11:30 yet. You hungry already?"
"Nah. I didn't know how to dress. Sorry to bother you, but you didn't mention where we'd be going."
"Well, I didn't know where we'd be going. But I do now. Casual. Very. And have a swimsuit and sunscreen and that kinda stuff. Okay?"
"Okay. I'll be ready. Bye."
So, it would be something informal. That was good. I dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with my bikini underneath. I gathered a few other things, a wrap, some underwear, various body potions and lotions, sunglasses, hat, and beach towel, and stuffed them in a large tote.
I was ready at 11:15. Just enough time for me to allow my mind to wander back to this morning. I couldn't, didn't, stop myself from going over every detail. I had worked myself into quite a state of excitement when at 11:32 there was a soft knock at the door. Silly, but my heart was pounding as I rushed to the door and pulled it open.
Kiefer looked very handsome. A blue-green shirt. Khaki shorts. Sunglasses. And, most unusual, he sported a Panama hat with an aqua-colored hatband. When we exited the house, a car awaited us at curbside. We entered the backseat and the driver took off, apparently aware of our destination. I dug around in my tote and retrieved my own sunglasses. The Georgia sun was bright and the glare from the road made the glasses welcome.
I asked Kiefer where we were headed. He told me it was a surprise and not to ask. Our conversation turned to the vacation so far. I told Kiefer that I was very grateful that he'd included me in the invitation and that everything had been incredibly wonderful. Within twenty minutes, we pulled into a marina and got out of the car. Kiefer carried my tote as well as his own small duffel bag. As we made our way closer to the boats, Kiefer revealed that we were going out for a picnic on a yacht, a pretty good sized-one, at least forty-five feet. A man, apparently the captain, stood beside the boat we were going out on as we approached. Kiefer and the man engaged in conversation for a moment or two and then we boarded.
The captain ushered us to the cabin door and told us he'd give us a couple of minutes to get situated and then he'd get underway. The cabin was sumptuous, the furnishings and appointments elegant. Kiefer tossed his duffel and my tote bag down and then removed his hat and glasses. I placed mine back in my tote bag. Simultaneously, we kicked off our sandals.
Lunch had been brought onboard already, and it was scrumptious. Delightfully, the meal was not one of those tedious ones we'd suffered through last night. The best part was that it was mostly finger-food and we got to feed one another. A long banquette extended about six feet along one side of the cabin's interior and in front of it was a table, solidly attached to the floor on a sturdy looking steel pedestal. The table was laden with the food, the variety of which was amazing. We tried all the different foods together and compared reactions. If one of us did not care for a particular item, the other got the remainder. This continued until only the veggie and dip tray remained. Carrots.
Our lunch turned into a fun-fest when baby carrots came into play and we attempted to stuff them into various orifices! I stuck a baby carrot in Kiefer's ear. He laughed and said he'd gotten used to having food stuffed into crevices while around me. He grabbed a celery stalk and tried to stuff it down my t-shirt, a move I blocked with my right arm. I went back to the carrots, and this time determined to stuff one up Kiefer's nose. He realized what I was going to do, grabbed my wrist, and yanked the carrot from my fingers. He stuffed the carrot in his left nostril and then grabbed another, stuffing it up the other one. He jumped up and got down on his knees, slapping the palms of his hands together and making grunting sounds, appearing as some crazed psychedelic walrus.
I laughed so hard that I slipped down on the cushions of the banquette. Kiefer stopped his walrus imitation, stood, and smiled down at me. He removed the carrots from his nose, tossed them aside, and eased onto the edge of the cushion leaning over me. Immediately the anticipation grew. The simple act of being near him was all it took. One of Kiefer's hands came to rest on top of my head, the other on my hip, and he nuzzled his nose up and down my neck and shoulder; my hands traveled lightly up and down his back. I turned my head slightly to reach Kiefer's ear and showered it with soft kisses. He raised his head and playfully bit my earlobe.
I wondered how far this nuzzling and kissing would go. It was delicious no matter the outcome. Soon, though, I had my answer.
Kiefer sat up and looked at me. His eyes narrowed, squinted almost, and he licked his lower lip. But what followed vocally did not match his expression.
"Let's change and get some sun, maybe a quick swim. Just enjoy the water."
"Sounds great. I need to move around after all that food!"
As Kiefer stood, I followed suit. I pulled my t-shirt over my head, revealing my bikini top.
"Damn. You wore your swimsuit! I wish I'd done that. I gotta change all the way."
"Aw. I'm just lazy. Thought it'd be easier to just wear the thing. I brought underwear to put on later."
"Just underwear," Kiefer asked, his eyes getting big. "Ummmm. Just underwear. I like that! Is it that little underwear? Those thong things?"
"No, goofy. I meant underwear to put on under my clothes later when I take off my swimsuit. And, yes, if it's any of your business, the panties are those thong things." I shook my head at him as if exasperated.
Kiefer puffed out his lower lip and pretended to sob, leaning over to place his chin on my shoulder.
"You . . . called . . . me . . . goofy," he gasped out like a crying child.
I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him to me and babbling soothing baby talk in his ear. He allowed me to continue this for a full half minute then abruptly he pulled back and away.
"Mind if I take off my clothes right here?"
I'm not sure why he asked. He had turned and his shorts and underwear were down before he finished the question. Seconds later the shirt was off. And there he was. Naked before me. Oh, it was the backside of him, but it was still more than my system could take without emitting an involuntary moan. Thankfully, it was a silent noise and he didn't hear me. In some ways I didn't like what I was feeling. I halfway resented the fact that every single muscle below my waist was contracting and sending signals to my brain. It wasn't right that he should be able to do this to me with no effort on his part.
As Kiefer moved to his duffel bag, I studied his walk. I liked it. I liked his legs, the muscular upper thighs, the ample calves. Then, the devil had the gall to bend over to retrieve his swim trunks and reveal his balls to my eyesight. Well, shit, I thought. Just what I need. Another stimulus. I turned away and rummaged through my tote bag for my glasses, sarong, and hat. I could hear Kiefer pulling on his trunks, the sound of fabric rustling.
After I removed my shorts, I wrapped the sarong-like cover-up around my shoulders. Because we'd both removed our sandals before eating, I asked if he thought we'd need them.
"Nah," he replied and took my left hand in his right, leading me out of the cabin.
We emerged into the sunlight. And it was bright. I placed my hat firmly on my head and pushed my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose. Kiefer replaced the Panama on his head; the sunglasses had been put in place before we left the galley. He wore blue swim trunks, boxer style, but no shirt. We headed to the bow of the boat where cushions-deep, comfortable cushions-covered about an eight-foot long seating area. As we sat facing one another, we both turned out bodies sideways in order to look forward at the sparkling water spreading into a soft "v" shape as the yacht slowly made its way.
We lazily watched the water for about a quarter of an hour. From time to time, Kiefer ran the palm of his hand up and down my arm. His touch made me feel many things, but at this moment it was mostly a warm and comfortable feeling. The sun and water were a perfect backdrop for my emotions - warm and, surprisingly, deep. I say surprisingly because I was unprepared for the power of the emotions inside me. I was taken aback by how relaxed and connected to Kiefer I felt.
Finally, after glancing his way several times, I placed my hand on Kiefer's face and asked if he wanted to take a short swim. He nodded and stood, making his way to the phone to communicate his wishes to the captain. It wasn't long before the boat was anchored and a ladder was lowered. I knew the water would feel incredibly cold on my skin because the sunshine had warmed me to a delicious state.
Kiefer went in first. He backed over the edge of the boat and lowered himself perhaps two steps down the ladder before he gave a shout and pushed off backwards, plunging into the water. I began to lower myself, rung by rung, not relishing the sting of the cold water. I could hear Kiefer surface behind me.
"Shit, it's cold."
How heartening. Now I really took the rungs slowly.
"C'mon, chicken. Get in the water!"
His words didn't goad me. I wanted a bit of exercise. I'd almost napped while we sat in the sun, and a short swim would do the trick. I just dreaded that first minute or two while adjusting to the water. I felt Kiefer's hand clasp my right ankle.
"Come on!" He tugged at my foot.
"All right. Don't rush me."
As I said the last words I took a deep breath and let go of the ladder. The plunge was what I expected. The warmer the skin temperature, the colder the water feels. The sun and Kiefer's occasional caresses had heated my skin to the point where the water now felt like ice. I felt myself catch my breath underwater. The goose bumps covered my flesh instantly and I shivered.
Kiefer came up behind me and as my head emerged from the water, his arms went around my waist. He seemed already warm. It felt good to have him so near. We treaded water for a moment or two then I began to swim around the boat. Kiefer followed. I wasn't swimming fast, just getting the much-needed exercise.
Easily, Kiefer pulled up beside and fell into rhythm with me. I was glad he wasn't going to engage in any racing nonsense. I wouldn't have been successful. The full stomach and warm sun had made me near comatose. Kiefer seemed happy to simply swim slowly by my side. We made two lazy laps around the huge yacht. In fact, a third of the last lap was completed on our backs as we languidly paddled our way back to our starting point.
I was ready to get out of the water. I had enjoyed the exercise, but I wanted to feel the sun on my skin again. I signaled to Kiefer that I was headed to the ladder. I climbed back up and over into the boat. I turned and waited for Kiefer. As he neared my side, the wind stirred and served to initiate in me a visible shiver. He placed his arm around me and led me back to the comfortable seating in the bow and kept his arm around me until the sun had warmed me again. Personally, I doubted the sun's power, and I attributed my warmth to Kiefer's nearness. We simply sat in comfortable silence, and I began to study my surroundings.
I don't know crap about boats, but I know gorgeous. This boat was gorgeous. I allowed my eyes to travel the scope of this lovely vessel as I leaned against Kiefer's chest. The deck looked like glass it was so highly polished. The wood was stained an elegant deep cherry. I mention the deck because it's what started the teasing. I told Kiefer how beautiful the floor was. He snorted. Snorted at me. Then he began to laugh without sound. That irritating laughter someone does at your expense. I was puzzled.
"What's wrong with you, Kiefer? What are you laughin' at?
Kiefer finally caught his breath enough to choke out a correction.
"It's not a floor, silly. It's a deck. A deck. We're not in a ballroom y'know."
"What?" I paused, unsure how to proceed. He continued to laugh, now with his head turned into a cushion.
"Okay. I don't know diddly about boats. Geez. It's a deck. A deck. And it's beautiful. Now, is that better? It means the same thing."
He pulled his face out of the cushion and looked at me, but his eyes weren't satisfied. They sparkled more than the sun on the water's surface to my left. And the look was, well, impish.
"I can't believe you didn't know it was called a deck," he chuckled as he sat upright again. "And as much as you read! I know Melville used the term 'deck' in his novels, didn't he?" He shook his head back and forth in disbelief.
I was not about to allow this rebuke to go unchallenged.
"Look, buddy. I'm unaccustomed to the nomenclature of sailing, but I'm not without knowledge of the word 'deck' and a few other words that sound like that. Take 'dick' for instance. And, don't sailors use the term 'head' to indicate a bathroom facility? You could put those two words together yielding the word 'dickhead' and that would be one I was very familiar with. In fact, it's one I could use to describe someone close to me now."
He rolled over into the cushions again, body shaking. He appeared to be sobbing, but I knew he wasn't. After a few seconds he jumped up and started a pirate-jig, complete with peg-leg stiffness, making pirate-like sounds to accompany the dance. Then he started chanting.
"Aye, the floor's are shiny on this old tub, the floor's are shiny on this old tub, the floors, the floors, the floors. The floors are a beauty 'cause we scrub, scrub, scrub."
He stared at me the whole time he chanted this insult to my boating intelligence. He was on the third round when it suddenly struck me. This teasing had a purpose, was driven by some desire. He had an end in mind. An end. His end? My heart almost stopped. Was he opening the way for that spanking? Helping me along? Setting up the scene, so to speak?
I was suddenly in a dither. What to do? I didn't know the man intimately enough to determine what he was aiming for. Didn't know if he enjoyed some kind of role-playing or just wanted a smack or two to get things heated up. I decided on the safe course of action. A swat or two wouldn't be too out of line. And the result would tell me a bit about what he wanted. Or, I could be all wrong and he could just be in a teasing mood. Hmmm. Well, so was I now.
"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', boy."
He stopped dead still in mid-pirate pose at my words. His eyelids blinked slowly.
"Oh, yeah?" His voice was a low, velvety rumble. His eyes challenged me. One eyebrow arched up.
"Yeah." And I leapt up towards him assuming a tackle stance.
In the blink of an eye he turned and took off away from me. I followed. He was faster, of course, but judged how much to slow down in order to let me catch him. It didn't take long. When I pulled up even with him, I placed my left arm lengthwise across his chest to stop his forward movement. Then I raised my right arm in the air and swung it down until my palm made contact with the wet swimming trunks that covered that delicious bottom. Once, twice, three times my hand smacked Kiefer's right cheek.
His response was what I've now named the sqrowl - that's a cross between a squeal and a growl. The sound wasn't high-pitched enough to be a squeal and not low enough to be a growl, hence, sqrowl. He uttered the sound three times, once after each swat on the bottom. I liked the sound as much as I liked the contact with his butt cheek.
The split-second hesitation following the third smack cost me any subsequent ones, not that I'd planned on any more anyway. But it was long enough for Kiefer to place his right hand on my forearm, pull my left arm away from his chest, and turn slightly towards me.
"Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww," he now said, staring into my eyes. The sound was accompanied by a marvelous pout that lasted only a second or two. I very much wanted to see that pout again. My right arm still free, I reached behind him and smacked his left cheek. His body moved closer to mine.
I was rewarded. Another "owwwwwwwww" followed by the pouty-mouthed lips, begging, it seemed, to be kissed.
"You better stop smackin' me. That hurts." His eyes betrayed him. He wasn't hurting.
"You deserved that, pirate-boy. Behave and stop teasing me or I'll smack you some more."
"Uh uh. You better not. That huh-urrrt." He slowly batted the mile-long golden eyelashes, enhanced at this very second by a ray of sunshine, courtesy of Satan, I'm sure. I felt certain it was Satan because I decidedly was feeling some devilish feelings and thinking some evil thoughts.
Just as I gained enough courage to reach around and give his bottom a good squeeze, Kiefer reached behind himself with his right hand and rubbed his right butt cheek in a soothing motion.
"Oooo. Poor baby. Want me to help with that?" I couldn't resist the question. I was reminded of the sand on my behind and his generous offer the evening before. My right hand slid between the waistband of his swim trunks and his skin. I rubbed his left cheek, making little circles with my palm and cooing words of comfort in his ear. I suddenly was consumed with the idea of sinking my teeth into his butt flesh.
I knelt, curling the fingers of both hands inside the waistband of his trunks and jerkily pulling them down. The damp fabric clung to his body and it wasn't easy getting them off. Nevertheless, I completed my task quickly enough that Kiefer didn't have time to react, or didn't want to.