Back in 2008, my friend and mentor, the late Patricia Windsor, asked if I’d like to collaborate with her on a romantic mystery. She would write the mystery part, she said, and I would add the sexual tension, love scenes and romance. I was happy to say yes and wish, for so many reasons, that we had been able to continue this project.
I will be forever grateful to her for her insight, finger-wagging and friendship. I will forever miss her. I will forever hold Annie and Del in a special and secret part of my heart.
For you, Patricia. Annie and Del’s first love scene. From my words, in your voice, to you, in their story. May it make you smile up there in heaven.
Now I’m embarrassed to say this but he carried me into the bedroom. It sounds so corny and country western but that’s what he did and after I got over worrying that I was too damn heavy for him – maybe it was his grunt that gave me the feeling – I gave in to the moment. There was a slight hitch when he put me down on the bed. Let’s say it was less than graceful, a little more like a dump but so what because he was on top of me, kissing me like he’d ordered me for dessert and couldn’t wait to have at it. I let him have it all, and took it all too, the gentle licks along my bottom lip, the deep thrust of his tongue, the sweet swish of it against mine. And to think, I almost said no to this. What was I thinking?
His hands were everywhere, touching me in all kinds of ways, like he knew exactly what worked on a woman. And he didn’t seem to care that all our clothes were still on. I wanted them off, all of them, but I was too busy kissing him back to say so. I figured I’d start working on his and maybe he’d take the hint without stopping what he was doing. Yeah, don’t stop. That’s all I kept thinking.
I twisted a bit, so I could kiss his neck, maybe unbutton his shirt some more. But he was heavy for a slim guy, like he was packing some muscles in his pockets, and I couldn’t move the way I wanted. When he started kissing my neck, I thought I might scream. Yowza, what that man’s mouth could do. His tongue was on my neck but he made it feel like he was licking up my thigh. Now, I’m not one for silence in the bedroom, but I don’t ever remember panting like I’d been speed-hiking up a mountain peak. That’s what his kisses did to me. How his touches affected me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed out of my clothes. I had to get him out of his.
I flipped him somehow. Right onto his back, and he grunted like when he hoisted me in his arms. He looked stunned, those squinty eyes staring up at me. I kissed them closed. Made a dessert of his mouth as he’d done to mine. His chest was so hot. I darted my tongue downward over it, as I opened each button. He tasted of sea salt and smelled a little like perfume – my perfume.
I was just getting to the good part, was about to follow the strip of hair from his belly to his belt, when he tossed me over and I landed face up beneath him again. Now a little rough and tumble is one thing, but this was getting me lightheaded. Or was it his mouth on my breast? Damn! Why couldn’t he rip my clothes off already?
His tongue circled over every inch of me covered by bra. I felt the tingle, the pressure, but not the slickness of it. I wanted more. Needed more. I squirmed against him, trying to get the lump in his jeans to reach where I needed it most. The more I moved, the heavier he felt. The only way to get this done was to take the lead again. I mean, really. Foreplay is not something I need all the time.
I stopped moving. Tried to hold my breath and ignore the scrumptious ache his touches created deep inside me.
“What happened?” His voice was thick, breathless.
I didn’t move, I couldn’t. He was too damn heavy. He played right into my hands and eased back, looking confused and concerned. I gave him one solid second, and then I shifted hard to the right, landing on top of him again.
He laughed and his eyes crinkled even more. “Nah, I don’t think so.” He flipped me back so fast, I wound up dizzy and hanging half off the bed. I didn’t care for long, because that’s when I noticed little things like the clank of his belt buckle and the freeing pop of my jeans’ button. Suddenly, all I could think was that I had on white cotton underpants because I hadn’t brought any sexy lingerie with me from New York. But that was a minor thing since they didn’t stay on too long.
The object of our desire was each other and in that we were fulfilled.
Sex and sea air will do it every time, I fell into a deep sleep, not worrying about anything like locked doors or ghosts. Next thing I knew it was morning. Del was beside me. I waited to see if I would have one of my attacks. These were early morning anxiety attacks that usually assailed me if I had done something I shouldn’t have the night before. Nothing happened, no shortness of breath, pounding heart, feelings of terror or imminent death. Instead it felt natural.
Del sighed, opened his eyes and said, “Mornin darlin”, then got up to switch on the coffee.