[25 Dec 2000  Home.  California.]

DINO

Christmas was amazing.  Seeing it through the wonder of a two-year-old's eyes was like getting to relive that excitement you felt as a kid all over again as an adult.  How many Christmases had it been since I'd had a home cooked meal on Christmas Eve?  Since I'd been excited about waking up early?  Since I'd even remembered that kids left cookies and milk out for Santa?

It sounds completely stupid, but I was damn near bursting with Christmas spirit this year.  Or maybe, it was just that I was filled up inside because for the first time, I had a family of my own to share it with.  It gave me a sense of contentment I'd not ever experienced before; a feeling of belonging.  Of peace.  And with each private little detail we shared with each other, that warm feeling inside me grew.

Those were my best gifts that year.  The little details.  Sharing mine.  Learning theirs.  Making some new ones together.

Seeing 'Dad' on the tag of a present that was put into my hands.  Biting my tongue to keep the laughter in when Andy wanted to leave a carrot for Rudolph along with Santa's cookies.  Having to be the one who ate that carrot later.  Playing Santa.  Staying up late with Heather to sneak in the presents.  Sharing the cookies and milk with her in the dark that night.  Having coffee with her the next morning in our pajamas while we all opened the presents 'Santa' had left for us in our stockings.  Getting to watch them both as they opened the ones I'd put under the tree for them.  Getting to open a few myself. 

Learning what their traditional Christmas morning breakfast was.  Giving up Nana O'Leary's secret Christmas eggnog recipe when I made it for them.  Heh.  Andy made a face even though he only got to taste the kiddy version.  Heather had two cups of the real McCoy.  It put some color in her cheeks and made her giggle even more at my stupid jokes.  What a damn good morning that was.

Bit of an eye-opener too.  The few gifts we'd chosen for each other were as close to perfect as they could be.  Which told me we either had phenomenal luck or that we were still working off the blueprint we knew of each other from our pasts to help us in the present.  I know I did.  It was strange to think I had so much in common with this other Dean.  Similar tastes.  Similar likes and dislikes.  It made me wonder if I was so much like the Dean she knew and she was so much like the Heather I knew then why the hell were we so attracted to each other?  Wouldn't that same platonic relationship translate over as well?  Or was it we were just different enough from those other versions of ourselves for the chemistry to be incendiary instead of amiable? 

It was unsettling.

And fun.  

I think I had an even better time that morning than Andy did.  I certainly enjoyed watching their faces.  Seeing his little eyes go round.  Hearing that shriek he does and seeing him clap his little hands.  Getting a good laugh over Heather's reaction to the gifts I'd gotten him.  Typical kid.  He enjoyed tearing into the wrapping paper as much as anything... and not to toot my own horn or anything... but he fucking loved the soccer ball I gave him.  So... yeah, I had my moment feeling like The Best Dad Ever. 

Come on!  Baseball and football are good and all... but soccer?  There's a real sport for ya, man.  Wiry bastard like me?  You know I can fucking run the ball.  Heather giggled and rolled her eyes.  Guess she'd heard her Dean's stories of how he played 'back in the day'.  High school... college.... Hell, I even have a picture of me and some buddies playing soccer in some sandy shithole in the Middle East cause someone's mom sent him a ball in a care package.  Well, I had a picture, anyway.  Who knows where the fuck it is now.  Maybe I'll replace it with a picture of me playing ball with my son.  There's a thought.       

Heather liked her presents too.  You should have seen her smile at all the bath stuff 'Santa' got her.  Her face went all soft and she unwrapped them so carefully in that delicate way women have, lining them all up on the floor beside her.  Opening the caps again and again to smell them.  Oh yeah.  They were a big hit.  Not as big a hit as my last present was though.  I pulled it out from under the couch after she thought we were all done and smirked at the look of shock on her face when she saw the box. 

My smile got softer though when she opened it and gently fingered the supple suede.  A shearling coat.  Warm.  Soft.  Leather.  Practical but still sexy as hell.  Her wet eyes thanked me for noticing she didn't have a winter coat and providing one.  Her mouth said, "Well, you always did like leather..."  Her voice wavered and she grabbed my hand and squeezed, trying not to cry.  She mostly managed. 

I couldn't help but smile.  It was true.  "And just how do you know I like it?"  Giving her that look.  Mostly teasing.  A grain of real question in there somewhere, too.  Her Dean might have... but I'm not her Dean.  How can she be so sure of my tastes?   

She smiled this smile women do that makes you wonder how the hell they know what they know.  "Well.... your coat is leather."  Her smile got bigger.  "So's your wallet."  I'd forgotten she'd seen it when I pulled it out to pass over Gen's picture.  "So's your luggage."  Damn.  She was right.....  Shit.  So's my laptop bag.  "So's your laptop case."  Heh.  Busted.  "And the interior of the car you rented...."

I threw up my hands in mock surrender.  "Alright, alright!  You win...."  She was laughing, already on her feet, pulling the coat on over her pajamas.  It fit like a dream.  Fell past her knees.  The white fluffy wool of the collar set off her dark hair.  It was all I could do to keep from reaching out and stroking the leather- and the woman under it.  Andy did, however.  It wasn't two minutes before his little fingers were petting that coat and digging into the warm fleece... putting down his toys to snuggle into her until she wrapped him up in the coat with her and blew a raspberry on his cheek until he shrieked.  Lucky little bastard. 

No doubt about it.  He's an O'Leary through and through.              

She put him down and twirled.  Rubbed her cheek along the soft collar.  Brought her hands to her face and smelled the leather.  "Dean, it's lovely.  Thank you so much."  I was enjoying her sensual enjoyment of the coat as much as I enjoyed seeing her in it and the knowledge that she wouldn't be shivering in the frosty DC weather. 

"You're welcome, honey."  She dropped to her knees and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  She smelled of woman and leather.  A particular weakness of mine.  I hugged her back and wondered how many pushups I'd be doing tonight.   

The rest of the day was just as good, if not better.  Andy and I cleaned up the wrapping paper while Heather made breakfast.  Afterwards, he and I took the ball and went to the park so Heather could enjoy a long, uninterrupted soak in the tub.  She was working on dinner when we got back.  Getting the turkey into the oven and making some kind of dessert that smelled like cinnamon and cloves and made my mouth water.  I bathed Andy.  How can one kid get so dirty so fast?  The bathroom smelled like vanilla and sandalwood. 

So did she. 

Even Andy noticed.  After lunch we were sitting on the floor playing with his blocks when Heather came through, gave him a kiss and us both a cookie warm from the oven and then breezed back out again.  His little face was scrunched up as he sniffed the air and I couldn't help but comment.  "We did good, didn't we, buddy?  She sure seems to like that bath stuff we got her."

He nodded.  "Smells good.  Wanna eat her," he mused.  

Out of the mouth of babes, eh?  "Me too."  And you know, if I'd been aware she was just on the other side of the door, ready to bring us some milk to wash down the cookies, my ears would have burned as red as my hair.

I didn't work that one out until after dinner though.  It was the first time I'd ever sat at the head of the table and carved the turkey.  That had always been my Dad's job.  What a damn good moment that was.  I thought Andy would be worn out from all the excitement of the day, but he had another of those nights when he couldn't sleep.  We stayed up and danced to Jingle Bell Rock and until I thought I'd go crazy if I heard it one more time. 

But it was when I picked him up to give to Heather so we could slow dance again like we did that first night that it started to sink in.  Silent Night played softly in the background.  I held her small hand in mine and whispered to her that she smelled good.  She didn't pull away but she blushed to the roots of her hair.  And when it finally came to me why she was blushing like that... I did too. 

[28 Dec 2000  On the road.]

DINO

It was relatively easy to get them packed up.  They didn't own much.  I did, however, opt to drive the truck myself rather than entrust the precious the remnants of my old life with Gen into the hands of some stranger.  I'm not usually one for ascribing sentimental value to things, but in this case, I absolutely refused to take the chance they might be lost or damaged.  Not too sure a road trip with a rambunctious two year old was the smartest thing for a painfully new dad to undertake, but we managed. 

It certainly gave me a realistic look at what life with them would be like.  It also gave me the most extraordinary chance to just get to know them- little everyday things.  Really, how often does a man get to spend ten plus hours in a confined space with his family where all there is to do is talk?  No TV.  No videogames.  No interruptions.  It was like this chance to learn all these things about each other that it usually takes months to learn.  Heh.  Relationship boot camp.  It was.... interesting.  Had its ups...... Had its downs, too. 

I learned that Andy likes orange soda and Chicken McNuggets.  That Heather has a weakness for Coke slurpees.  As for me?  I'm a black coffee kinda man.  I learned talk radio makes her mental.  That a quick rest stop is never quick with a woman and child in tow.  That the sound of a crying kid is quite possibly the most grating noise in the universe.  That she isn't immune to it either.  Heh.  That she sings him lullabies at night.  That Andy is absolutely fearless and has this driving compulsion to run after and pet any dog that he sees. 

Scared the fuck out of me at one rest stop when he got away from me while Heather was in the bathroom and launched himself at a passing dog.  Thankfully it was friendly, but it sure gave me a jolt.  Kid's like some kinda goddamn black ops agent.  One second he was there.  The next he was gone.  Good thing his Daddy has extensive training in that particular area.  Heh.  How the hell does Heather keep up with him?  It's like she's got this precognitive radar or something.  We can be sitting there eating lunch and it's like she knows to grab him two seconds before he bolts.  It's uncanny. 

She misses other stuff though.  Stuff she should catch.  She's fantastic with him but she misses what's going on around her sometimes.  And she's probably the least street-smart person I've ever known in my life.  That's definitely got to change.  She doesn't own a cell phone.  She knows fuck all about basic auto maintenance.  Hell, she doesn't even notice when men are looking at her.  And I don't just mean men, men.  I mean shady men.  You know- shifty eyes, greasy, skulking along in the shadows like mangy dogs kinda men.  The kind real men want to kick back into the shadows when they come sniffing around our women with that hungry look in their eyes.  That she doesn't notice it only seems to make it worse.  She's an easy mark and they know it. 

But for now it seems to be working out pretty well.  She watches him.  I watch them both.  And nobody will ever mistake me for an easy mark. 

Still, I had my moments too.  We all did, I think.  While I anticipated enjoying the time we spent together, I had also believed being locked in the car with a rambunctious, cranky two year old would be the hardest part for me.  I was so, SO wrong about that.  It wasn't the days that were hard.  Nope.  It was the nights. 

For as good as slowly integrating into my new family felt, sleeping in Heather's bed and sharing that small one bathroom home was incredibly difficult for me.  There was little to no privacy and I had no space that was just mine.  A hard situation for a healthy man in the prime of his life living with a woman he was intensely attracted to.  I had no outlet. 

I've always been the sort of man who worked hard- and played hard.  I don't let go all that often- but when I do, it's usually with unbridled unapologetic excess.  Especially with women.  You'd be surprised though, I think.  I might feel that desire- intensely at times, but most nights I go to bed alone.  There have only been two times, really, in the last couple of months when I really cut loose.  Once was the night before that little operation in Tecala... and the other was just after we crossed- that night Max came to talk to us.  Most of the time, I can sublimate my more base drives by burying myself in my work.  But that's not an option now, nor can I escape the object of my desire. 

I can't even blunt its edges.  Not in her bed, anyway.  And it came to me when I was half way there in the shower the following morning... not there either.  I had my dick in my hand, so hard I hurt... smelling the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood when I realized I didn't want to come in the tub my son would be bathing in a little while later.  That seemed a bit sordid to me.  So, I was officially without any way of dealing with the intense physical reaction I had to her. 

Save one.  

And I fucking hate cold showers.  They put me in a pissy mood.  Hell of a way to start the day.  Uncomfortable.  Skin red and stinging from the cold.  Shivering.  Dick all shriveled and trying to escape into your body to get away from the sharp icy spray.  To be honest, that kind of uncomfortable sexual desire just wasn't something I normally had to deal with.  I have a high sex drive, but it doesn't run my life.  Actually, until recently, the work hard/play hard thing was pretty much working for me.

Which all really boils down to one thing.  I was, without a doubt, looking forward to having my own room while we were on the road.  I was not, however, expecting Andy to pitch a holy fit about it.  I suppose can't really blame the little guy.  He was scared.  It kind of caught me off guard.  I guess I just thought of him as totally fearless. 

He wasn't.  

He had a surprisingly hard time giving up his bed when I packed it on the truck- despite my assurances he could have it back again when we got to our new house.  It was just too much change for him.  Too fast.  He'd also gotten used to my presence and he sort of had a meltdown when he discovered I wasn't staying in their room.  No amount of reassurance could calm him down.  He just clung to me and sobbed, "Daddy... Daddy..." over and over in this desperate little voice that just ripped my fucking guts out.  I guess he thought if I left, I wasn't going to come back.  A pretty real fear for a kid whose Dad had been 'lost' before- not to mention one who'd just had to give up his bed and his home, and who was now expected to sleep in a strange place. 

It warmed my heart that he was already so attached to me that he equated me with safety and security... but I think deep down, I also knew this was going to be too much for me before it was all over.  It wasn't just sexual.  That was a big part of it, but it was also this huge thing to take on that much intimacy and responsibility so fast.  And now, when I was already on the edge... because of Andy's fears, I had to give up my privacy at night and sleep with them.  Two beds, of course.  Andy slept with her and I slept alone.  But it was still a world away from being able to shut a door and have the illusion of space and privacy. 

Now, in the dark, I could hear her breathe softly.  Hear the bed creak when she turned over.  See her chest rise and fall in the moonlight.  See her hair spread out over the pillow.  See her all soft and sleep-tussled in the morning.  Christ, I could even smell her.  It was torture... and yet, I couldn't stop myself from noticing every last little detail.  Watching how she moved.  Watching how the way she did things was so different from the way I did them.  Women have always been fascinating to me.  I love everything about them. 

Even when they're driving me insane.

[29 Dec 2000  On the road.]

DINO

I do recall saying this trip was a bit like boot camp.... and Andy?   He was the little drill instructor hell bent on busting my hump.  Now, I've been party to some pretty wild stuff in my time- never blushed, never even turned a hair.  But this kid?  Holy shit.  He could raise a blush on me you wouldn't believe.  How do kids do that? 

We're driving along after stopping at a rest stop and out of the blue he busts out with, "Daddy has a big peepee.  I seed it in the potty." 

I thought I was going to fucking expire right then- but no, the kid wasn't done yet.  He just kept on going in this matter of fact voice. 

"We standed up to go.  That's how big boys pee."  OK, gotta give it to him there.  He's just learning to stand up when he goes.  Heather can show him a lot of things, but not that.  Heh.  Figured since we were in the men's room anyway, might as well give the kid some pointers.  I just didn't think he'd repeat them. 

Oh, God!  Please don't let him- "First you hold it.... then aim... then go...."  Oh my fucking GOD!  "....then you shake."  Shit.  SHIT!  "Right, Daddy?"  Please kill me now. 

Earnest little voice from him.  Hell, I didn't want to scar the kid so I managed to choke out an affirmative.  Heather was biting her lip to keep from laughing.  Kid got us both with his next question though.  "I want a big peepee, too."  He looked at his Mom.  "Have you seen Daddy's peepee?  It's reeeeeeeally big.  He can go lots and lots."  Heh.  I might be dying here- but at least her face is as red as mine now. 

He hardly let her get out a 'no' before he was off again.  "Daddy, show her!"  

"I don't think so, buddy."  Ah, yes.  The prize jewel of my Embarrass the New Dad crown was now complete.  Her face was flaming.  Mine too.  Jesus.  Brought low by a two year old.  How pathetic is that?  I am so fucking glad the old man wasn't here to see this.  He'd never let me live it down.  I'd be hearing peepee jokes until his raggedy ass retired.

Never in my most surreal imaginings did I ever think I'd be driving along the highway calmly discussing my penis with a toddler and a woman I was starting to have some serious feelings for.  Paybacks.  Had to be.  For all the times I made my mother cringe growing up.

Luckily, Andy's easily distracted.  We passed dog loping along in a field and in two seconds he'd forgotten all about my 'peepee' and was shouting, "Doggie!  Doggie!"

Under Heather's breath I heard her say, 'Oh, thank you GOD!'  Heh.  I said, "I need a drink."  We burst out laughing.  Andy was a little confused, but he joined in as well.  What does he care?  The two people he loves seemed to be having a good time and he wasn't about to be left out of that. 

My boy.  Gotta love him.        

[30 Dec 2000  On the road.]

DINO

I knew it was going to happen.  Frankly, I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier.  Sharing that small house and now an even smaller hotel room- you know there was going to be an awkward moment involving nudity.  Had to be, given the tight parameters.  Happened our third night on the road.

We'd already eaten.  Planned on calling it an early night.  I could hear them in the bathroom; Andy splashing in the bathtub and her soft voice laughing with him.  I felt on edge.  Wired.  Too keyed up to fall asleep even though I was tired.  Stretched out on the bed... but when I closed my eyes, I only seemed to be able to hear them better.  It wasn't helping my mood.  I needed to get out of here for a while.  Take a walk.  Something.

I sat up, grabbed the ice bucket- any excuse to leave the room, patted down my pockets and then remembered I'd left my keycard by the sink.  Shit.  I didn't even think, really.  I'd been in the bathroom tons of times while Heather was bathing him.  The kid's a fish.  Would stay in there forever if we'd let him.  I just tapped once on the door out of habit, opened it and was half way into the tiny bathroom before I realized Andy wasn't the only one in the bath.  Heather was with him, her hair piled on her head and hanging down in these little wet tendrils that clung to her neck....

I'm a man.  I looked.  You fucking know I looked- and she saw me do it.  The bubbles kept me from seeing below the water but her wet soapy breasts were visible enough; the tips nearly as red as her cheeks.  "Fuc-"  I snapped my mouth shut, made a quick grab for the keycard and stepped back, crashing rather inelegantly into the door as I did.  Fuck!  I fixed my gaze on the wall somewhere above their heads.  "Sorry- sorry, I should never have-"

"Dean, just be calm, OK?"  Her voice was utterly tranquil and so soft it didn't even disrupt Andy.  He gave me a 'hi daddy' and waved a wet hand at me, but didn't even look up from the boats he was playing with.  "Please don't freak out and make a big deal out of it..."  Her voice was still soft and sedate- and totally at odds with the scarlet color blooming over her cheeks and down her neck.  If we'd been alone, I have no doubt she'd have been covering herself and jumping for her towel, not sitting there like her bare breasts weren't on display.

I met her gaze and somehow managed to keep my eyes above her collarbones.  Andy looked up to watch the interplay between us, curious about the vibe I knew he had to have picked up on.  "Don't freak out?"  I absolutely couldn't believe this was happening.  Yesterday we're discussing my dick in the car and today I'm looking at her tits and she's fine with that?  What the fuck?   She was mortified, obviously... but that didn't explain why-

"Sorry.  I know it's...." she waved her hand, clearly at a loss for words, ".... weird... I just don't want him getting the idea that there's something wrong with-  with Mommies and Daddies seeing each other.... you know...."  she waved her hand again and I tried not to notice how it made her breasts bounce softly,  "......without their clothes."

Fuck.  She was right.  We might not have that kind of relationship, but someday he would, and being made to think being naked around your spouse was wrong could seriously fuck him up down the road.  I nodded, took a deep breath and somehow managed to keep my eyes off her as I addressed Andy, who was still watching our interchange with wide curious eyes.  "Nice hair, buddy."  He had a soapy Mohawk.  Heh.  He really is a nut.

"Thanks, Daddy."

Still keeping my eyes well away from her, I smiled and pocketed the keycard.  "I'm gonna go get some ice while you two," my voice hitched there but I recovered admirably, "finish your bath." 

"OK, Daddy."  He wasn't even paying any attention to me now, just playing with his boats and making little boy motor noises.

"After I bring it back, I'm going to go out for a bit."  I needed to get the hell out of Dodge.  Now.  "You'll be asleep by the time I get back, but I'll be here when you wake up."  Andy looked up at that. 

"Promise?"

"Promise."  I crossed my heart with my finger- some old childhood gesture I'd forgotten until just now.  "You be good for your Mom and do what she says... then in the morning you can be my favorite alarm clock and we'll get some pancakes before we hit the road."

"Pan-a-cakes!"  He clapped his little hands.  Heh.  Simple pleasures.  

"Night, buddy."  

"Night, Daddy."  

I didn't meet Heather's eyes.   "You two gonna be OK?"  Had to ask it, but I was prepared to leave anyway.  Shitty but true.  I needed to get out of here.  Needed space.  Needed a drink.  Christ, needed a fuck.  I was so wound up I could hardly keep still.

"We'll be fine."  No censure in her voice, just resignation.  I hoped she didn't know what was running through my head, but for as innocent as she seemed to be in some ways, I knew all that time spent listening to old soldiers had to have given her a pretty realistic view of what we did to unwind.  Probably too realistic a view, come to think of it.  She hadn't said goodnight when I'd left, she'd said 'see you in the morning.'  

Shit.

Couldn't be helped though.  I'd reached critical mass.  Brought back the ice.  Thankfully, they were still in the bathroom.  I grabbed my jacket, tucked my pistol in my boot and my wallet in my pocket and got the hell out of there.

Took a cab downtown.  I've traveled a lot in my day.  Knew my way around several major cities, including this one.  Wound up at The Red Door.  In my time, it had been this edgy club that catered to a certain kind of patron, if you get my meaning.  Upscale.  Discrete.  Bit on the wild side.  The kind of place where a man- or woman, for that matter- could satisfy their every prurient desire.  A place that was in the business of giving a man his fantasy rather than a cheap fuck.   

The club below catered to a slightly different crowd than it had in my world; think the kind of place Trinity met Neo... lots of gritty pounding music, dimmed lights, more black leather and flesh on display than I'd expected, but it didn't phase me.  There are those people who prefer to advertise their fetish.... and those who don't.  You don't need a certain look to fit in when you've seen and done as much as I have.  I left the kiddies playing downstairs and went up to the other Red Door. 

It was as I'd remembered it.  A spacious old warehouse retrofitted with these huge oak doors from some historic Germanic castle.  Very austere, European flavor.  Almost industrial.  A woman in a severe black suit and these fucking outrageous black heels led me back down a familiar hallway.  The heavy doors blunted the sound from the club below, but you could still feel the throbbing pump of the bass.  An echo of the throbbing in my blood and between my legs.  I burned.   

We reached a small, discrete sitting room.  She poured me a drink and opened a slim little black laptop.  I'd already decided what I wanted.  I almost always ask for a Latina.... occasionally a blond... sometimes both.  I'd opened my mouth to tell her my preference, hardly sparing the screen displaying a slideshow of the girls a look-  when I saw her. 

I spoke without thinking; voicing my desire almost instinctively.  "Her."  A slender brunette.... long dark hair.  Graceful.  More conservatively dressed than the others, giving her an air of innocence my rational mind knew she couldn't possibly possess.  Not working in a place like this.  Her eyes were blue not hazel.... and though there had been women on that screen who more closely resembled my fantasy woman physically, I could see more of her in the way this girl held herself.  It was an impulse I should have curbed- but couldn't. 

And one I would later regret.       

Across the desk, the woman didn't acknowledge my rash decision with anything more than the slightest twinge of her lips.  Whoever she was, she was well trained.  But I read people for a living.  I caught a vague sense from her that she hadn't been surprised by my choice.  Like it's a game with her to guess the kind of woman a man wants, and this time, she'd guessed correctly.  I wondered if her lip would have curled so slightly like that if I'd gone with my original choice.  Don't suppose it matters much.  Not to me, anyway.   

There was no negotiation.  I handed her my card.  One swipe and our business was concluded.  Five minutes later, I was ensconced in a small private room, sitting in a high backed leather chair, sipping a scotch while I waited for 'Lisette'.

She came in a few minutes later, still dressed more conservatively than your usual garden variety pro.  The shoes gave it away though.  Not just how easily she moved in them... but the kind of intricate leather lacing at the ankle was the real tip off.  This girl projected innocence, but I'd bet the farm her personal tastes ran in a much darker direction. 

Good.  

I wasn't here to despoil an innocent.  Not my style.  That was part of the problem.  She greeted me softly with a voice that held a hint of a French accent.  Not a pro with an artfully affected accent... No, this girl was masking a native French accent with east coast English, but it escaped in the vowels and in her pronunciation of certain letters.  I'd know.  I speak French as well as Spanish and most of the other romance languages as well.

She waited near the door for direction and asked me what I wanted.  Mostly what I wanted was for her to be silent.  And I wanted to come.  No preliminaries.  No foreplay.  No names.  I wasn't embarrassed about wanting that and she wasn't embarrassed about giving it to me.  I indicated she should join me.  On her knees.  She knew what to do.  No other words were needed.  I knew it would be quick.  I hadn't come in weeks and sharing such intimate living conditions with a woman I was attracted to had pushed me to the furthest edges of my control. 

I buried my hand in her long dark hair and closed my eyes.  Heard the sound of my zipper.  Caught the crackle of the foil and the scent of latex.  Felt her mouth roll it down my length with practiced ease.  The image that played out in my head was a far cry from reality.  No condom.  A different brunette.  A touch given in love, not bought with money.  I felt guilty for thinking it even as it sent me spiraling closer and closer to orgasm.  I was beyond primed.  It happened ridiculously fast; that choking pleasure swamped me and I made absolutely no effort to check it.  Just tightened my fist in her hair and let myself go.

I allowed myself enjoy the selfish pleasure with no remorse or self-consciousness.  I have done this enough times to be long past worrying about appearances.  I am here for me.  Do I like to give a woman pleasure?  Yes.  Do I always?  No.  I am always respectful... but sometimes I want nothing more than release from the fire in my blood and I am man enough to admit that.  And man enough to take it.       

This time, I'd come here with the idea of engaging a pretty blond and fucking myself into a pleasure soaked coma.  That plan had been altered when I'd made the rash decision to choose a different girl to fulfill a fantasy I knew I shouldn't have touched.  I thought at first I could be satisfied with just this.  Just the feel of her sweet mouth.  But seeing that dark head bent between my spread legs and feeling her silky fragrant hair in my fist while her mouth pulled at me was like touching a match to primer cord.  I never should have pretended she was someone else.... because now I'd lit a fire that couldn't be put out. 

I sipped at my scotch and watched her without embarrassment while she removed the condom and cleaned me up.  She made this quiet little laugh.  Not unkind really; just maybe a bit amused someone who was clearly an old hand at this would pop off like some green boy.  Frankly, I didn't care what the hell she thought of me.  I didn't need her approval.  She started to rise, no doubt thinking we were done and that she'd made some very easy money, but I was nowhere close to being finished.  A soft word and the gentle touch of my hand on her arm was enough to get my point across with crystal clarity.  I had several weeks worth of pent up desire burning in my blood, and to be honest, she'd barely taken the edge off it.

I hardly even softened after that first time.  Still kneeling prettily before me, she stroked the backs of my legs with her small hands and asked me again what I wanted.  Normally, I'm pretty upfront in this sort of place.  This time, I was a bit more reserved.  Didn't make much eye contact.  I lit up a cigarette... stared at the ceiling for a while... and then answered her with as much detail as I was willing to divulge.

I shared the graphic part with her and kept my real motivations to myself.  In my heart of hearts, I wanted to do nothing more than close my eyes and pretend it was happening with the woman I really wanted.  More scotch muted that little voice telling me I shouldn't.  That it was wrong.  Sordid.  Dangerous.  I did tell her what I wanted.

And she gave it to me.

Again and again and again.  The next time was slower.  I touched her.  God, I love to touch a woman.  I made her want it.  Made her want me.  Behind my closed eyes, it was Heather's image entwined with images from the Kama Sutra that played out in the physical with the slender woman in my arms.  I took her that way- like the passage I'd read that first night.

When the woman sits in her lover's 
cradled hands, her arms around his neck, 
thighs gripping his waist, 
her feet pushing back and forth against a wall, 
it is Avalambitaka (Suspended).   

She keened.  In my mind, my fantasy girl gave of her heart.  In reality, 'Lisette' gave of her beautiful body.  Riding the razor's edge between agony and ecstasy.  Suspended.  I buried myself deep and came hard, shuddering inside her with another woman's name lodged in my throat. 

It was like pulling your finger from a crack in a dam.  It poured forth faster and faster.  I couldn't stop it.  The next time was more explicit.  I just kept.... pushing.  I shouldn't have chosen her... but I couldn't stop myself.  And I couldn't stop it at a simple blow.  Nor with a single taste of the Kama Sutra.  I wanted more.  It did make it a little easier, though.  I had a hard time imagining Heather being willing to do the kinds of things I asked for after that.  She's a good girl.... and in that night, my appetite was voracious. 

Four times in five hours.  I had her in nearly every way a man can have a woman.  Damn near fucked myself raw.  On one hand, I knew I needed this release.  On the other... It felt as if I'd done something abusive by pretending to do all this explicit stuff....  It had been another woman's body, but in my mind?  It was always her.  Heather.  Her hands reaching for me.  Her body taking me in.  Her soft cries against my throat.  Her contractions milking the last of my strength from me. 

The cab ride back to the hotel was a blur.  The last memory I really have was just after I finished dressing.  I'd pressed a gentle kiss into her palm and thanked her.  Her face softened and as she saw me to the door, she whispered in impeccable French, 'She's lucky, your innocent... don't wait too long to tell her, No Name Man with the longing heart.' 

Jesus.  The French really do say some shit, don't they?  I tried and failed to shrug off the unease I felt to be read so well by a stranger.  Her eyes widened when I offered a traditional goodbye in French as flawless as hers and tucked an extra bill into her palm before I left.  The night air was cold.  I was exhausted.  Too tired to even light up by the time I'd hailed a cab. 

I remember thinking as I swiped the keycard in the slot was what a bastard I was, not just for what I'd done, but for bringing it back to them.  I fucking reeked of her.  Of sex.  Of smoke and sweat and that seedy part of life I wanted to keep from ever touching my family.  Just seeing them there, curled up together in the darkness was like this kick to my gut.  It was so innocent and pure.  Maternal love.  Such a contrast to the seamy world I'd been crawling through tonight.

She had Andy cradled against her.  His little fingers were twined in her hair.  Their chests rose softly in the slow, even rhythm of sleep.  I felt filthy.  Too dirty to even stand in their presence.  It was the first time paying for it had ever made me feel this way.... guilty... sordid.  Wrenching myself away from the tender scene, I slipped silently into the bathroom with a calm I didn't feel.  I tore off my clothes and turned up the water as hot as I could stand it.  It stung.  My dick was tender and raw.  My heart felt worse. 

I was miserable.  A trade then.  Physical release for peace of mind.  Wasn't sure it was worth it.  Funny how that works.  This morning I couldn't stand to be in this body another night.  Tonight, the body's fine.  It's the man inside I'm not so thrilled with.  And he's a hell of a lot harder to get rid of than an unwanted erection.  I stayed in the shower a long time and still didn't feel clean when I got out.  I think I knew then that what I'd done tonight was another avenue closed to me.  I had no problem with it when I brought it home to an empty apartment.... but I didn't like the way it felt to bring it here.  To them.  The contrast was too stark.   

Part of me resented what I knew would be the eventual loss of this outlet; the loss of most of my causal encounters of this sort would also mean for me the loss of my biggest source of physical contact.  It seems silly... and stupid- but it's not.  I don't have a wife or a girlfriend or even family in this world.  I can go months without knowing human touch aside from cursory business handshakes.  I'm not really the sort of guy to pick up a girl and lead her on knowing I'll be leaving town when my business is concluded.  That doesn't leave too many options... and now, there are less.

I grappled with some pretty conflicting feelings.  I wanted to be a good father.  I wanted to be a man free to meet his own needs without feeling like a shit for doing so.  I wanted to understand why I felt so inexplicably drawn to her.  Realization dawned and my hands froze on the towel.  The Pull.  Oh fuck.  Is that what it was?  Had to be.  Fucking had to. 

But I wasn't sure if it made things better or worse.  Did to prove she was the One?  Or were my true feelings being manipulated by this 'Pull'?  My true feelings.  Jesus.  I was struck with another revelation.  I had known love once in my life and it wasn't until this very moment that I realized I was on the brink that same emotion.  It was almost too much.  It was too much.  I'd been the Tinman too long.     

I redressed silently and headed to bed.  And again, the vision of them stopped me.  They'd shifted positions.  Andy's cheek was cradled against her breast and her arm was curled around him protectively.  For a moment, I felt a shocking stab of jealousy and then the hot stick of self-recrimination, and lastly, intense longing twined with bittersweet acceptance. 

I knelt by their bed, entranced by them, consumed by the desire to touch her.  To touch them both.  To feel his little body breathe.  To put my cheek on her breast and be held as he was.  And conversely, the thought of touching them with the fingers I'd just had in a whore's body made me sick. 

Like a moth, I thought.  

A stupid creature that feels the heat singeing his wings and is unable to stay away despite the agony of being burned alive.  I felt it then.  Searing me.  I also knew her simple touch could ease me in ways the whore couldn't.  I am real with myself.  Mostly, when I pay those girls it is about sex.  About sucking and fucking and coming.  But sometimes.... sometimes it's only about what happens before and after.  A hug.  The soft touch of a hand gently rubbing my back.  Being rocked, soothed. 

I stood and returned to my cold bed.  I've been alone most of my adult life.  Alone but not lonely.  Tonight, I realized that had changed somewhere along the line.  I was lonely. 

I tried to sleep, but despite the fatigue in my body, it wouldn't come.  I heard Andy's quiet snuffle and later, heard Heather get up to get some water.  I feigned sleep, invariably caught in an awkward position, my hand hanging over the side of the bed and the sheets pushed down around my waist.  I heard her light footsteps stop at my bedside and she sighed softly.  My heartbeat picked up but I forced my breathing to remain even.  Did she know I was faking?  Was she wondering where I'd been?  Worse, did she know?

To my surprise, she straightened the sheet, pulled it up and tucked me in, smoothing back my hair and whispering a gentle, "Shhhh... sleep," when I stirred.  I sighed involuntarily in absolute, utter contentment.  It felt so good.  "Shhh....." her voice was softer this time and she stroked me again like a boy.  My hair.  My temple.  My cheek.

Ironic, isn't it?  I'd spent myself in a whore for hours and it was that one simple touch that brought me comfort.  And sleep.