Jeffrey

As I wait for her in the car to end things with Nash, I'm still angry.  In fact, I'm fuming about a lot of shit.  I have to get control or I'm going to blow my stack and blow our last chance at reconciliation right out of the water.

The scene in the men's room might have been the turning point for us, but it's one that she staged.   How easily she just maneuvered me.  Do I feel manipulated?  Hell yes; among other things.  Fuck!  I feel like the biggest chump around.   She's been calling all the shots since the night we met.

My first impulse had been to break away.  Don't let her play me for a fool again.  But all my resolve was taken away by the power her lips held over me, by the phenomenal power she still holds over me.  She's not an easy woman for me to resist.

A memory of her lying naked beneath me flashes into my mind, and no matter what I try to do, I can't banish it.

Jesus Christ!  

Right now seems like the perfect time to let out some aggression so I do.  I smash my fist onto the dashboard.  Good!  That hurts.  The pain will help me restrain myself from putting my foot down on the gas pedal and flooring it on out of here, leaving her in the dust.

This woman has led me on a merry chase now for what...February to mid June, four and a half months?  Two of them have been spent watching her shake her tail for another guy.  Is she worth it; all the fuss, all the aggravation?

I frown as I stare out the window into the darkness.  She must be.  I'm still here.

I think back to where it all went wrong.  The relationship was derailed by her lies, but I had thought for the longest time that there must have been some flaw in me that made her feel she couldn't open up.  Once we became close, she still felt the necessity to hide.  What made her scared?  What made her not trust me?  Why didn't she think I would understand?

I asked myself these questions about a hundred times, but I learned the answers lay within her just waiting to be heard.

I remember practically every word of that blasted fight.  I've replayed it so often in my head.  It became the late night movie of the week; film after the eleven o'clock news.

"Your world and mine are completely different."

So we came from different backgrounds.  That made me a stuck-up, overbearing asshole with no feelings of compassion?

"You're just a tad intimidating, Jeffrey."

My education, my career and my social status made her uncomfortable.  Okay, I didn't need a neon sign to direct me to that one.  

What she didn't get is that her lack of these same attributes didn't mean diddly to me.  It meant sweet fuck all.  I hadn't got involved with her because of her pedigree.  If anything, the absence of any kind of socialite standing worked in her favor.  Been there; done that; got the damn divorce papers to prove it didn't work.

Her deceptions about her family, where she lived, her friends, I can now somewhat justify away from the heat of the moment.  I hate dishonesty with a passion, but it was her pride that was the force behind them.

Pride I know all about.  We've been best friends, Pride and I.  I've done far worse than her in the name of that particular vice.  It's a given character trait for anyone born with a xy chromosome.

The thing with her job; that was a whole different ball game.  What guy in their right mind would admit that he likes his woman working in a sex shop where all she does all day long is talk to men about fucking and how to enhance it?  Well c'mon; isn't that what she does?

But I was cool with that.  I told her I knew she took the job for a paycheck.  Then she went all drama queen on me and gave the 411 not only about the regular fornication she had to discuss, amplify and exhibit but that deviant sick puppy master/slave shit.  How much am I supposed to take?  I'm a patient and fairly broad-minded man, but that was bloody ridiculous.

Images of low-lifes drooling around her in those skimpy, slutty get-ups were not pretty.  Even in my wildest private fantasies, I would never get excited in seeing her degrade herself.

Being honest, as I always try to be, I have imagined other women from time to time in some of those same titillating costumes with no problem whatsoever.   That's not how I see her, nor do I care to.  End of story.

Christ!  What's taking her so long?  How long does it take to say 'Adios John-Boy; it was fun but I got to run'?  

Thinking of her with Nash winds me up all over again.  

I throw the car door open and slam it shut.  I think it would be a bit too obvious to lean on the horn.

You know she flaunted that relationship at first right in my face before it got serious.  It took her what-all of two weeks before she jumped beds?

The thing that drives me abso-fucking-lutely around the bend is that she couldn't see what a charade it was; how wrong it was.

Our friends knew it.  I could see it in their faces every time they tried to lower their eyes and look away whenever she and I were in the same room.

She was so fucking stubborn in not surrendering to the pull.  We have wasted so much time while she dicked around not knowing her own mind.  She let us both down.  I want her to know that.

But as I pace around the car and try to walk off all these negative vibes, in my heart, I know I can't dump all the responsibility on her shoulders.

She chased me away...yes.  But I let her do it. 

That levels the blame game right there.

Karen

I open and close the pub door looking for his Audi.  I shiver even though it's quite warm outside.  I pull my sweater tightly around me and cross my arms over my chest.  It's a defensive posture, and that's because I'm scared to death.  My whole world has changed in the space of an hour. 

Leaving John was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do.  But in spite of what it might have looked like, the decision to leave was made not in an instant but a few weeks ago.  It was not done in haste but carefully deliberated with a great deal of tears and regrets.  I'm extremely saddened by our failure.  What went wrong between John and I had to do with us, not another man.  We might have been able to salvage it if I had been willing to sacrifice some hopes and dreams of my own.  I wasn't able to do that.

So here I am now waiting to walk back into the life of the man I should never have left in the first place.  The Man upstairs is surely having a field day with this one.

All my brass and spunk that showed itself in the washroom has evaporated.  As I see his car pull out of the parking lot and head my way, my heart that had been light and giddy only forty-five minutes ago sinks to my feet.  I shrink against the side of the building as I feel my earlier assurance beginning to weaken.

He brakes sharply in front of me, opens his door and steps out.

My stomach lurches.  My heart races from taut and over-wrought nerves.

He comes around and opens the passenger door still without looking at me once.

I try to re-arrange my expression so when he finally does meet my eyes he won't be able to tell how anxious I am.  Don't know if that one will fly or not.

I crawl inside.

He shuts the door with a little more force than is necessary.

Shit!  It's going to be a long night.

I can tell by his profile, by the set of his jaw that he's upset.  He's more than upset.  He's furious.

We drive without speaking.  Is this a solo operation where I'm the main target or is he also mad at John, this horrible absurd situation or all of the above?

I nervously nibble and gnaw at one of my fingernails.  He is so different from John.  When John gets angry, which is very rare, he lets you know right away.  There's no waiting for the volcano to erupt.  I've never been frightened of John's anger either.  I can't say the same for this man's.

We pull up his driveway.  There's the big fancy house with its spacious foyer, smooth oak floors and old-world elegance that reminds me once again of the disparities we have to overcome.

This time he doesn't open my door.  I have to walk into the lion's den on my own.

We still haven't said a word.  This wasn't quite the make-up scene I had envisioned.

He goes immediately to the bar and fixes himself a drink.  He merely raises an eyebrow at me.

"Soda water will be fine," I try to make my tone light but instead I'm only able to croak; my voice sounds scratchy, small and tentative.

I get a funny look.

Oh yeah, he doesn't know I'm temporarily off the hard stuff.

I lower myself carefully onto the leather sectional couch.  He brings my drink and then sits on the opposite far end.

He takes a hefty gulp.

I summon up my courage and flick my eyelashes disdainfully in his direction.  "Are you going to talk to me Jeffrey or am I supposed to read your glowers like deaf people read lips?"

The words just pop out.  It's a pretty bold opening statement in light of his secreted rage, but when I feel overwhelmed by someone, my first instinct is to cut that person down to a more manageable size.

His lips twitch.  His eyes lock onto mine, hooded and wary.

He takes another sip.  "I like watching you sweat," he says flatly.

This is definitely off to a bonzer start.

"Is that why I'm here?" I ask tightly.  "So you can punish me for everything that's happened?"

He pins me with a hard searching look but doesn't answer.

Interesting!  That in itself speaks volumes.

"Did you finalize everything with Nash?" 

His face has darkened noticeably yet he still manages to sear me brightly with his eyes.

My turn to twitch lips.  "Finalize?  Do you mean did I cut all ties?  As his lover, yes; as his friend, no."

He bobs his head tersely at my reply; he's still grim.

I scratch at my neck and wave my hand aimlessly around in the air.  "Are we going to do this all night?  This banal back and forth bullshit between glares?  Cause if we are, I'll just catch a cab."  My tone is sharp.  I have no intention of moderating it.

I shoot to my feet.

"Sit down Karen, and shut up for five seconds."

He says this mildly continuing to regard me coolly so I don't feel too threatened.  Progress.   At least he said my name.

I sit back down but refuse to look at him.

"Why now?" he asks.  "After all this time, why did you act tonight?"

Crossing one leg underneath the other, I answer honestly.  "I don't know.  I wasn't intending to do anything.  When I saw you with her, it just seemed like you were making a mistake."

As soon as the words have left my mouth, I know just how he'll take them.  He wheels on it instantly and calls me on the carpet for them.

"A mistake.  I was making a mistake?"  

From the corner of my eye, I see him rubbing his face and I discern his incredulous look.  

"That means you were jealous after seeing me with one woman one night."

Well it was more than one night but I neglect to mention that.  I wriggle around in my seat.  "Yes, I was jealous," I own up.  And I know what you're going to say next Jeffrey but you don't have to.  I know how you must have felt."

He gets up and walks back to the bar to refill his glass.  His shoulders stiffen.

"You can't begin to know what you put me through."

His bitterness and resentment make me ache inside.  An acute pain of contrition for what I've done sweeps through me.  What he doesn't know is that I have suffered too which makes me edgy and defensive.

"If I put you through hell then why are you giving me another chance...or are you?  Please end the suspense here."

After my caustic last phrase, he strolls over, and he stands there looking down.

I can't help but flinch as he looms over me.  He's taken a power stance position.  Hands in his pant pockets, he rocks back on his haunches to study me.

"Don't you know?"  His voice is low, almost mocking.  I feel the weight of his eyes upon me as they flicker ever so casually to mine.  "I thought you knew everything Karen."

I can't stand this.  I had not braced myself for another repeat battle.

"Jeffrey...please."  I close my eyes and run a hand through my hair.  "Let's not do this.  I get that you're very angry at me.  That's coming through loud and clear.  We can't change what's happened."  I appeal to his sense of fairness.  "Do we really want to wound each other with vicious words?  Haven't we done enough of that?  Can't we just talk like we used to?"

I feel the cushion sag under his weight as he sits beside me.

"You shut down when we used to talk," he admonishes.

In spite of his harsh inflection, his eyes are no longer hard but still remain intense.

"In fact, you shut down when anybody ever tried to get close to you.  At first I thought it was just me that got that special treatment.  Do you still do that?"

His words echo in my head, his stare indecipherable.  Why is he making this so difficult?  Why does he have to talk about me instead of us?  How is this helping?

"If you mean will I lie to you again, no I won't."

"That's not what I mean nor what I asked."

He's looking at me; his body is tilted towards me.   I'm still facing forward.  The way this conversation is steering is unraveling me.  It's back to personal issues, mine specifically.  Is this an instant replay of our last fight?  Why is he so keen to unlatch that door?  I never opened up to John, and he didn't think to ask. What more can he possibly think I have to hide? 

"What do you want from me, Jeffrey?"  I skirt from the edge of the path he's headed on and clutch at my drink wanting to lift it against my hot forehead to cool it.  "A confession written in my blood that I fucked up?"

He takes the glass from my hands and puts it back on the table.

"It would be nice if you could look me in the eye."  Something almost approaching humane has now crept into his rough tone.

I turn my head.

"See, that wasn't so hard."  He gives a sidelong smile.  "I can always tell the real way you feel by your eyes.  Your eyes can't deceive, and I don't mean by that, that they lie.  They just tell me the truth."

I'm feeling very put on the spot, and I take exception to his dissection of my psyche.  I'd rather have him yell, scream or even wring my neck.  That I could handle rather than this pop psychology or whatever crap he's trying to use on me.

"You think you know me so well.  We dated for exactly five weeks and four days.  What can you possibly know about me or my life?"  I put as much toxic sarcasm as I can into these words.

He glances up at the ceiling, purses his lips and then gazes back into my eyes.  "I know why you try to scare people off.  You're doing it right now."

As I raise my chin defying him to analyze me, he just softly chuckles.  His voice becomes solemn.

"Only this time, it's not going to work.  Your hostile rebuffs and your attempts to reject can't hide the woman I know exists in that hard-ass shell you wear like armor.

Laying back into the cushions, he relaxes with one arm propped up on the top of the sofa.  "If we're to move forward, we have to openly communicate.  Now, we can't do that if you try and put me off or lock me out because I get too close to your secrets."

"What secrets?  I don't have any anymore.  You unburied them."

Jeffrey absorbs this and nods slowly conceding the point.  "You didn't let them go willingly though, did you?  What happens the next time you try and block me?  I can't live playing that hide and seek game."

I hang my head and wonder, so are we at a stalemate?  "I won't make you promises I can't keep."

He crosses his arms.  "I'm not expecting any.  I just want you to know what I've figured out about you.  At the time, I was too provoked by the fabrications.  Then, I took a good hard look about what life must have been like for you.  It wasn't easy was it?    

It must have been hell trying to learn to trust when you had no one to depend on.  You grew up alone, a scared kid...a terrified little girl who was forced to grow up fast because she had no family to protect or defend her.  Her mother, possibly the only one who ever really unconditionally loved her, died.  Her father abandoned her.

Leaning in closer to me, he continues.

"So this little girl became shy and learned to put up walls.  She was a regular pro at it.  And every time some one let her down or failed her, another brick was put in place.  She was so used to not being special to anyone that if a person paid her the slightest attention, she would either run or immediately become suspicious and think there were dark ulterior motives.

Did they want to use her like fair-weather friends then desert when the chips were down?  Perhaps they hung around cause they were bored and had no one else to talk to.  Or maybe it was just safe uncomplicated sex that they were after with no commitment.

Even now, when she's all grown up, that same frightened little girl exists inside her making her skeptical, making her doubt.  She cries out, "Don't come too near.  I don't want to be hurt so don't make me feel anything.  Let me just remain numb."

How do the words of that song go-"killing me softly"?  Hot tears blur my vision as Jeffrey recites my life story.  I swallow and blink trying to stench their flow.

He scrunches over to me.  He pauses until I am again able to look him in the eye.  

"You see, I do know you Karen.  And that little girl in you can try to fight me tooth and nail and maintain all those barriers, but mark my words; I will tear them all down one by one.  I'm as stubborn and pigheaded as you are.  So bring it on Baby.  I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Oh God," I choke out starting to gasp and sob, not even fighting anymore for emotional control.  With his insight, he has penetrated to the inner core and has set me free from all pretense and false fronts.

My crying melts the chill in the air, and suddenly as abruptly as it had begun, the mood changes.

His strong arms surround me and pull me into his chest.  At last; the man of my dreams is holding me.  I'm crying all over his crisp white Brooks Brothers shirt.

Trying to regain composure, I stammer out, "How is it...that...that..."

"That I'm able to read you?  I've lived a few years longer than you have, Kiddo."  He wipes at my face and chucks me under my chin.

In spite of the tears, we laugh together.  It breaks the tension.

"You're used to younger men who think mainly with their dicks, not that I'm any different on occasion."  He becomes serious.  "It's also because I've had a lot of time on my hands to review our history more objectively."

I snuffle into his collar.  He pulls back.

"Sorry."

"It's only a shirt.  But if you feel better, I'll get you a Kleenex."

"Grab a box," I wise crack.

When he comes back, I take both of his hands in mine and blurt out in a rush, "I want you to know that I'm sorry, sorry for all of it-for deceiving you, for not trusting you, for hurting you, for pushing you away when all I wanted to do was pull you closer, for not admitting what you really meant and still mean to me."

Every word out of my mouth is the truth, spoken from the heart.

There is a mistiness in his eyes too as he nods his acceptance and gives his forgiveness.

"Jeffrey, were you really worried about..."

He doesn't give me a chance to finish the sentence so he misinterprets.  What I was about to ask him was, was he really worried that we would never get it together.

Instead, he jumps in with, "About Nash?"  

He puckers his lips, hesitates for the briefest of seconds then dives in again.  "He's a much younger man; therefore, he's more virile, more primal than I can be physically."

I can tell this is a hard and huge admission for him to make.  I squeeze his hand, anything to try and take the sting away.

Spinning his body to me, he captures my vigilance and arrests me with his heartfelt statement.  "But in spirit, he's no match for me.  He's no match for you."

He taps my forehead.  "Because the mental thing we got going and the magnetism that has always been there between us would constantly be lurking in the back of your mind like it was in mine."

He draws away a bit.  "Even when you were in his bed lying next to him, even when he was fucking your brains out, you were thinking of me, weren't you?"

I wince at his crudeness and yet can't deny that he is right, at least some of the time.  

Eventually it will come out exactly what John Nash meant to me and has done for me, but tonight is not the night for that conversation.  Jeffrey needs to get the bile out of his system, so I let him.

Reaching out to stroke my cheek tenderly, he says heavily, "So yes while the image of you with another man was abhorrent, I felt our connection was too strong to feel entirely threatened.  I had to let you loose so when you came back, you would truly feel the bond and know that you were and always will be mine."  He cups my chin.

I gasp at his frankness and then immediately hiccup.  He has never said anything before that just smacks so full of possession, and dare I say that I love it?

So what do I do at this incredibly moving and poignant moment, I giggle and then to make matters worse, I snort.  I'm so unnerved.

Jeffrey just hands me another Kleenex and doesn't seem in the least disturbed by my reaction.

"How did you make out at the spa?"

"What?"  The abrupt change in topic throws me.

"The spa," he repeats.

"You mean before Marie's wedding?"

He inclines his head.

"Fine."  I don't know why he's asking.

"I wondered how the planned assault went."

"The assault?"  Gosh, I was starting to sound like a parrot playing back all his words.

"Yeah when the guys were all boasting about how they were going to raid it, I was curious to hear how it turned out."

"You were at the pub the night they plotted it out?"  I'm taken aback.  I assumed he hadn't been there.

He confirms.  "Oh, I was there all right.  They were way too loaded to even realize I had come in later that night.  While they were doing all their macho posturing, I kept imagining you off by yourself somewhere laying low.  I knew you thought you weren't good enough for the girls' company.  I knew you'd think you didn't fit in.  I was hoping someone would take you in hand, be your friend."

My eyes brighten as I sniff and dab at my eyes.  "Someone did.  A couple of the women reached out to me.  Ann did, Bou and so did Marie."  I shake my head here in wonder.  "Marie's only twenty-two yet I felt like she was the big sister I never had.  Figure that one out.  I kind of want to be Marie when I grow up."

He smiles.  He has such a lovely warm natural smile.

"I'm happy that you had people who cared about you.  You see that tough as nails act of yours doesn't fool anyone."

I think back to that week and how much misery I endured.  "I was so lost there.  All I could do was think of you.  You haunted me."

Jeffrey takes off his glasses and wipes them.  Are they steaming up with emotion?

"And every time they brought up their men, which seemed like every ten seconds, I just pictured how we left it, me on the floor of my room and you taking off, not willing to even look at me."

He scratches his jaw, looks ruefully at me and admits, "I didn't handle it well.  I never should have let you run me off.  It's my turn to apologize to you."

I press his hand to my cheek.  "Don't blame yourself.  I wasn't willing to let you in and when you forced your way in, I wasn't willing to let you stay there and accept something about me that I never could."

We don't go into details about my job.  We don't need to.  It will have to be resolved by me.  I am the only one who can change it.

I try to lighten the heavy conversation somewhat.  Since he can just go reeling off on another plane of thought, I take the same initiative.

I pin him with a fake ferocious stare, "What the fuck did you mean by saying that I looked "well" every bloody time you saw me?"

"Huh?" he gives me the same 180 look at my lateral thinking.

"Every single time you saw me whether it was at Marie and Bud's wedding or at the pub, you would always say hello and then you'd say that I was looking "well".  Talk about being VAGUE."

I can see he doesn't have the foggiest as to what I'm referring to.  How typical of a man.

"You know I actually looked up the meaning of the word in the dictionary.  It means..." and I recite marking off each point on my fingers, "healthy, in good health, fit, strong, robust, hale and hearty, able-bodied, up to par, satisfactory, all right, fine, good, thriving and flourishing.  I kept trying to figure out which one you meant."

I've astounded him by my ability to commit this strange list to heart.

"I don't remember saying that, but you know men get nervous too.  You women don't hold the patent on that.  Besides, if I had said what I really felt every time I looked at you, that you were looking as lovely as always, I would have appeared to be the biggest sap around when you gave me a look that would clearly say you weren't impressed.

He fidgets either with a set of keys or coins in his pockets.  "You were with another man.  What did you expect?  I don't think you noticed but every time the three of us were in the same proximity, Nash looked like he was going to call me out or do something equally stupid."

Now I'm sorry I brought up the whole topic.  I don't want this to head back to John.

Jeffrey, however, grins when he says, "He probably would have tried to pop me one if I said you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, then I would have been forced to teach the young pup a lesson, in private, of course."

I look away, dismayed by his admission.  The reality of having two men fight over you isn't quite as romantic as it sounds.

He senses my change in mood and drops it.

We sit in comfortable silence for awhile.

Suddenly Jeffrey seems uneasy.  He starts to jingle his legs up and down like he's bouncing a baby on them.

What's coming now?

"Need another drink?"

I shake my head.

He obviously does.  He has made quite a dent in the contents of the whiskey decanter.

While he goes to pour it, I go to the washroom to fix my face.  I look dreadful.  My eyes are all swollen and puffy.  My nose is red and contrasts vividly with my stark white cheeks.

On the other hand, I feel a bit buzzed; awesome; unbearably light-headed and buoyant.

I head out onto his deck in the back yard for some air.  I hear the screen door creak as he follows me out.

Leaning on the railing, I look up wistfully at the sky seeing all the bright stars and the big yellow full moon as if for the first time.

I feel his breath on my neck.  He clears his throat.

"I have to tell you something, but I don't know if you're ready to hear it."

Twisting around to look at him over my shoulder, his expression is cautious and guarded.

I think about that then give a derisive laugh.  "Shit Jeffrey!  That is so fucking arrogant.  Just tell me and let me decide."

Taking my hand, he leads me over to the wooden stairs where we sit down.

It's a struggle for him to begin whatever he feels he needs to tell me.  He still has my hand in his grasp as he tries to find the right words.

He starts off very slowly, pausing often between for effect.

"Everything about you-your enthusiasm, your energy, your eagerness to enjoy the small simple things in life, your courage, your ability to cope, your street smarts, your clever innuendos, your irreverent sardonic sense of humor...your beauty, I adore."

Do you know how your heart bursts with joy at hearing the man in your life say such potent rich things about you?  I do for the first time.  How it sings out in thanksgiving when he praises you?

He apparently isn't finished though.

"Your dark side-your fiery temper, your obstinacy, your bluntness...your petulance..."

I can't help but hike my eyebrow at my last sin of his litany but remain silent 

"I'm crazy about too."  He swivels to put his hands on either side of my face and draws it up.  "Do you get what I'm telling you, or do I have to stamp it on my forehead in big bold letters?  I love you, the whole you.  I wouldn't have you any other way."

Tingling starts in my toes, inches up my legs, hits my abdomen and stuns me by crashing into my chest like a Mack truck.  I blink rapidly trying to take it all in.

I bring my hands up to his arms to break his hold.  As his arms fall back loosely to his sides, I sputter out, "Wait a minute.  Back up a sec."

I hold my hands up as if I'm about to be arrested and I'm surrendering.  "I want to make sure I heard everything correctly.  No crossed wires."

He bows his head.

I rhyme off the points he's made.  "You adore all my good qualities.  My not so stellar ones you can put up with and may even like as well.  Then there was something about your forehead and I think I missed the last p..."

His head comes up.  His eyes bore into mine.  "I love you."

"Oh!" I react stupidly and then a little "oomph" slips out as the impact of what he has just said hits me.

He's peering at me intently.

I can't move.  I can't talk because my heart is wedged permanently in my throat.  I can't even breathe.

He waits patiently for some semblance of mind or any kind of rationality on my part.

Ducking his head, he looks like my response hasn't fazed him.

I don't want him to get the wrong impression just in case so I finally break the spell his words cast upon me.

"Jeffrey."

As his eyes glide to mind, I pull him towards me and kiss him with all the feeling I'm capable of mustering.

His lips part slowly to accept my answer.  

My arms wind around his neck.

How could I forget the exquisite softness and warmth of his mouth on mine?  How after all this time, can he just make me melt, my head spin with a web of lurid fantasies?

A storm of heat and longing overtakes us.  Desire flames, heavy, heated and demanding.  It becomes all consuming, a full-blown raging inferno.

"Inside," he gruffly rasps out.

We hobble back into the house unwilling to become unentwined.  

I don't know where he wants to take this.  Instead of the bedroom, he shoves me back into the living room.

I start to disrobe him by tearing at his shirt.

He stops me.  His gaze shoots to mine, unmasked, raw and hungry.  "No.  First you."

I can't wait for him to make a move so I begin unbuttoning my blouse.

"Don't," he softly orders, a dangerous warning in his voice.  "I've waited for this forever.  I want to take my time remembering every last inch of you."

The hair on the back of my neck stands up.  My insides flip with gut-wrenching urgency.

He steps behind me, and his lips nuzzle that very same spot and then move to my collar bone.

I moan in tender protest.

"I remember how you like having the pulse point behind your ear nipped when I reach to undo your blouse."

He bites me there as his thick fingers unclasp the first button.

"How you sigh so deeply and lay your head back on my chest when my hands, accidentally-on-purpose, touch one of your breasts, as I work down all of them."

His voice is but a sensuous rumble but it causes a riot in my heart because the power behind it is enough to send me reeling as I do each of the things he says I will do. 

"How your whole body trembles when my fingers finally expose the slightest expanse of bare skin."

My blouse is undone.  He separates it and thrusts it open.  There is no hesitancy in his touch, his hands move with a covetous boldness I don't expect.  It's like he owns me.

"How I make you wet in anticipation when I lift the edges out from your jeans."

He pulls the tail of it out.

"Are you wet now, Karen?" he whispers.

Oh God!  I am a river running wild upstream.  My lower half has begun to throb in the most wild, insistent and primitive way.

His tone never falters.  It's still steady.  He is in perfect control.

Peeling the blouse back over my shoulders, his lips follow the trail of it down and off.

I try to foresee his next motion, his next tactic in his strategy to compel my obedience.

With a feather-like touch, he places both of his large hands over my bra to cup my tits.  He caresses me through the lacy material, teasing, forcing me to hold back, making me long for it.

"Are your eyes closed?"

He is the expert of my body.  My every response he knows so perfectly.

Unexpectedly, he yanks down each of the straps and sucks hard at the flesh that is lifted and pushed up.

I'm paralyzed, captivated by his mastery, frozen.  A louder groan this time erupts from deep within me.

"I remember all the sounds you make as a lover."

His hands are now gently kneading the freed mounds.  He makes my nipples erect and hard by his ministrations.

"Wait for it, Karen," he soothes.  He leans over my shoulder, "I want you the way I did when we first met."  His voice deepens into huskiness as he corrects himself, "No, I want you a thousand times more."

He's now exploring my midriff.  

Does he feel the exact moment when I break out into goose bumps at his attentiveness?  I know he does.

I feel him pull at the clasp of the bra and it drops to the floor.  Then he comes around in front of me.  I gaze up at him, but he wants, no he needs, to be the authoritative one this night so I submissively lower my eyes again.  But in that one fleet meeting, I feel like I've been struck by a runaway train.

He roughly tugs me towards him by slipping two fingers into the belt around my waist.

"How sopping are you?  Is it dripping out of your..."

For a minute I think he's going to say "cunt" which excites me to such a degree that indeed I am surging like a whirlpool.  But, at the last second, he just ends it with "you".

"Shall I feel it?"

I'm only able to nod my head.  How will I ever last?  I'm teetering on the edge.  I'm going to...just by...

"Oh no, you're not allowed to do that."  He shakes his head; he clicks his tongue while his voice reproves me.  "You can't come until I grant permission."

His gaze sweeps over my face lingering on my mouth.  He sneaks in a quick kiss and then abruptly undoes the belt buckle.  He lowers the zipper so leisurely and pretends that it gets caught and can't be opened any further.

He feels the gasp rip right through me.

The velvety rose of his murmur dismantles me.  I have to tell myself to breathe-inhale slowly and deeply and exhale the same way.   Why have I lost my voice?  Why can't I string two syllables together coherently?  How did I ever live without this...before this?

He toys with the skin on my belly just above the rise of my panties.

"You're ticklish there, aren't you?  I remember it well."

He's watching every facial gesture, every tick, every curve of my lips, and every blink of my lashes.  He's not smiling though.  He's too impassioned, too fervid.

"Fuck!" I manage to whimper out.  "Touch me there please."  I'm pleading earnestly.

Jeffrey actually smirks at me and mumbles, "Tonight you're not in any position to make demands, Karen.  You're not running this show."  He circles around me like a caged lion on the prowl, his voice still soft, still deadly forceful.  "For months you've been dangling two men on your string, dancing to your tune.  Tonight that ends.  There will be only one man and his woman."

Now I am gushing.

He senses that I'm so close to my zenith as my knees buckle and give out.  He catches me and props me back up.  Almost as if he's chastising me for trying to subvert his dominance, he walks away and sits down on the couch.

"Come here," he instructs.

I do as I'm told but I must confess I'm a little afraid.  This is a whole new side of Jeffrey, one I've never seen before.  Is this just play or something else entirely?

Before I know what he's doing, with one arm he yanks me backwards onto his lap so my back is once more tight against his chest.  He reaches down with his hand and pats behind my right calf.  I lift it up and extend it.  He slips off my shoe and sock.  We then do the same procedure with my left leg.  His arms gird my waist and for a few minutes, he merely holds me in close to him.  I can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes.

"Stand up," is his next command.

As I ease myself off him, I can't resist the temptation to see what he will do if I just slightly violate from his plan of action.  So I reach back and, accidentally-on-purpose, grab his balls but I make it look like I fumbled and lost my balance while trying to regain my footing.

He doesn't fall for it for a second.  A sharp resounding smack on my buttocks that makes me yelp in surprise is my reward.  I tense instinctively.

"Don't be naughty, Karen.  You've tested and tried my patience for months now.  Don't make me have to resort to corrective measures."

I bite my lip.  My panties are so damp with desire.

He must be aware as he suddenly stands and jams his hand down the back of my jeans between my legs and begins to rub rhythmically against the silk material.

I arch forward desperately yearning for the throbbing just beneath his searching fingertips.

"You are soaking."

I don't see it but I know he has brought his fingers up to his face to sniff, perhaps to taste, to mark the scent of my arousal.

He then tears away the last barrier as my jeans along with the panties are wrenched down past my hips and ass.  He swoops back down on the couch toppling me also once more onto his lap.  Like a child, he strips the remnants of the clothing past my knees and off.

I'm totally bare now sitting on him while he is still fully clothed.  I shudder at my vulnerability.  This man has not seen me naked in a long time.  I feel a warm flush creep up my cheeks to my forehead.  It feels like I'm swamped with fever.

"There, I've finally got you where I want you," he purrs.

His erection is pressing into the crack of my butt which is what he definitely wants me to feel.  He draws my hair back behind one ear and licks down my cheek.

How much longer will he prolong this torture for us both?

His hands lazily play with my nipples, tweaking them every now and then, making me squirm.

"Jeffrey!" I cry out, "Please..."  Will he listen this time?

He pivots my legs around so they're over his knees.  He then picks me up and rises.

I see the hot feral fire in his eyes as he carries me to his bed.  There he becomes once more the Jeffrey that I know, the man I have dreamed about, the man that I have never stopped wanting.  His anger has now completely dissolved.

We both strip him in a frenzy.  I run my hand through the sweaty matted hair on his chest.  His massive torso with shoulders and chest that are still broad despite the heavy set body always makes me feel tiny and petite, ultra feminine.

We just lie there for a beat and savor the animal heat, irrepressibly drawn to each other.  He then takes me again in his arms as our mouths meet and clash hard together.

I lean back as his lips press ardently upon my throat pouring down his kisses.  Mine dust lightly over his brow and the crown of his head as I ruffle a hand through the thick grey hair. 

He inhales and nuzzles the soft tresses of mine around my shoulders.

We slow everything down as if in slow motion.  The kissing becomes soft, slow and seductive.  The touching, stroking, feeling and caressing are a gentle exploration of the senses.

It begins to build and swell again until its frantic rhythm changes into wild and savage momentum.

I slide his cock into my mouth and listen to his grunts and groans of uncontained pleasure.  As I try to devour its length and thickness, he pumps into me.  His ragged uneven breathing lets me know he is on the edge.

His hand gently grabs a hunk of my hair and he forces up my head.  "I want to be inside you."

I crawl back up to straddle him.  I take his hand and we both push his hardness to the soft moist threshold.

I control the tempo at first, slowly and tentatively but he grabs both sides of my hips and rocks us harder and faster with long giant thrusts.  Nothing feels so perfect, so deep and so right.

Feeling the rush, a burst of such incredible delight courses through me.  I come almost as soon as he's moving inside.  I crest on the familiar wave.  The swift climb spirals outward, that soaring pulsing ecstasy spreading.  It was lightening quick for me, yet it was more extreme than before, more wildly satisfying in a different way as well.

He lasts a little longer, straining as he rams and thrusts upward.  With each deep shove of his cock, he propels me forward until I'm leaning over him looking into his fevered eyes.  The sweat is dripping down all over his face.

I know how it feels as mine is trickling down between my breasts.

The fervent shuddering and the profound growls that emanate from him indicate he's letting go.

I clasp my thighs tightly around trying to keep and savor the flow of him as long as I can before it dwindles and trickles out.

We ease each other down, simmering the latent torridness.

Afterward, as we lie sideways together, my one leg resting lightly over his hip, we let ourselves lie listlessly in a relaxing languor.  Jeffrey softly rubs my back.  No words pass between us as none are necessary.

I feel the most incredible contentment like I've finally found a home.  I'm right where I should be-in his arms.

He kisses my forehead like a child before he gives into the heavy need to sleep.

As I hear the beginning of his soft snores, I snuggle into him as weariness overtakes, I close my eyes and whisper, "I love you too, Jeffrey."