According to Jane (13 page)

Kim, Tom, Mark and I went on a few double dates but, after Mark finally came out, he started hanging around Tom and Seth's room...and, well...

"It wouldn't have been such a shock to all of us if Seth hadn't been Mr. ROTC Dude," I said to Mark, thinking of Seth's stocky build and buzz haircut, and how different he was in style and temperament from the lean, suave, near-preppy Mark. Kind of like
Top Gun
versus
Top Hat
.

"Just goes to show, people shouldn't stereotype."

"Very smug of you. I hope that means, if I do bring Andrei in May, you're going to keep an open mind about him. No anti-Bolshoi Ballet slurs or criticisms of Moscow's purportedly inferior wine. You'll behave?"

"If I must." Mark paused. "Hey, is this guy treating you well, Ellie?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling the smile grow on my face. "He's thoughtful and sweet. He gave me the most romantic Valentine's Day I've had since the one with you."

"Only, you two actually slept together at the end of the evening, right?"

"I don't have to answer that," I said, but I giggled, giving it away. It'd only been two days since the candy-heart-filled holiday, but the dreamy images from that night continued to make me euphoric.

"Oh, gawd," Mark said, groaning. "You're still in
that
stage."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Well, forget I asked about details, then. I don't want to know."

I grinned into the phone.

"Snap out of it, El, I'm serious! We've got my ceremony to discuss, and you need to help me decide which poems should be read."

But as Mark dithered between the Khalil Gibran, the Goethe and the W. H. Auden, my mind wandered into the land of romantic fantasy it'd inhabited since Andrei entered my life.

For the first day in ages, I felt as though everything might just work out. That I'd get my happily-ever-after ending after all.

It sure as hell was about time.

A couple of Saturdays later, at Andrei's apartment, I pulled a can of tuna and a jar of pasta sauce from his grocery bag and handed them to him. He shelved them in the cupboard and reached behind him, palm open, for me to give him the next item. I dug into the bag again, this time retrieving a box of stuffing and a bottle of ketchup, and I had to fight the urge to laugh.

"You know, we're acting like an old married couple," I told him. "Grocery shopping together. Stocking the pantry." I didn't add that I loved it.
Loved
it.

He smiled at me. "This is not bad thing."

"No," I said, my heart soaring at this display of confidence and commitment-readiness. "It's not."

I could feel us moving toward that elusive Next Stage every time we spent more than a few hours in each other's company. Like that morning. Hunting for the cereal he'd tasted at Mikhail's but couldn't remember the name of. (Turned out to be Cocoa Puffs.) Laughing over which soups to buy. Racing to load the items we'd chosen, all of which he insisted on paying for, on the conveyor belt at checkout. Leaving the store hand in hand.

Women who were used to such intimacies might take them for granted, but I didn't. Mundane chores--car washes, laundry, cooking--all were better, or even kind of fun, when I did them with Andrei.

So when we finished putting away the groceries, I said, "I have a wedding to go to in three months, and I can bring a guest along."

He put his arms around me. "I am being invited?"

"Yeah. If you want to go." I waited to hear him say something like "It's still a long time from now" or "We'll see when things get closer," but he didn't.

He nodded and pulled me to him, kissing my forehead. "I go with you."

I snuggled into his chest and squeezed. "There are a few things you should know first. The ceremony's going to be in Canada."

"This is not problem. Work visa lets me go short time out of country. I have all papers in order."

"And it won't be difficult to take off work for three or four days?"

"Not if I am knowing from now." He moved his kiss down my nose, lingered for a moment on my lips and headed lower still to my neck.

Before I allowed myself to rip off his clothes and throw myself at his heavenly body, I figured I'd better tell him the rest. "There's, um, just one other thing. The couple getting married is gay."

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "You are meaning two women?" He looked interested.

I shook my head. "Two men."

He shrugged. "Oh. Less exciting, but also okay." He returned his full attention to my neck, and I felt a switch flip on inside of me.

This was love. It had to be. I was in love with him. I may have been for a week or two already. Maybe. In some form or other. Possibly even since the night we met. Love at first sight can happen. (Can't it?) But that day I recognized it for
sure
. That day I just
knew
my feelings were for real.

I yanked his cotton shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and ran my fingers in the space between the fabric and his back. It was a study in contrasts--the soft, downy material against my knuckles and his hard, knotted muscles against my palms. I tried to massage away the tension.

"I need more than back rub, Ellie," he said, his voice half laughter, half whisper.

"And I need more than kisses," I replied, which was all I knew I had to say to get what I wanted. Even so, I added, "I need you inside me."

Andrei didn't answer. He just began peeling off our clothing until there were no obstructions.

We collapsed onto his double bed, on the coverlet, which was a thin blue spread he'd picked up from Wal-Mart. I brushed the pads of my fingers against it, caressing it like I might his skin. He'd gotten it the first time we went out shopping together, and now I was becoming sentimental over it.

He opened the bedside drawer for a condom and slipped it on in a motion so smooth, so practiced that I'd been worried the first time I saw him do it. But Andrei had made it very clear he was a one-woman man, and nothing he'd said or done in the past month or so indicated otherwise.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, running his tongue from my neck to my tummy, pausing to kiss my belly button and then continuing down to my upper thighs and the space in between them.

"Yes," I managed to gasp out as he flicked his tongue over and around the sensitive skin and inside the folds a time or two, making me even wetter.

He moved up on me, his larger body flush with mine, and he pulled our hips together. He held my thighs apart and pushed into me with a force that would've been brutal if I'd been a smaller woman. As it was, the fit was so tight, so intense and so incredibly erotic that every time we had sex I screamed. Every single time.

He covered my mouth with his to stifle my cry and began a slow thrust that would exponentially increase in speed and power as my body adjusted to his.

While relationships might bring with them, as Di suggested, a whole lot of unpredictability, the uncanny sexual chemistry between Andrei and me didn't fit into that category. We could count on it without reserve. It had become the most steadfast element in my life, and I knew he was bowled over by it, too.

"Come for me," he whispered in my ear, pumping harder now. He said this more for the effect of being a little naughty rather than because he had any fear of it not happening. It always happened with him.

"I'm almost there." I cupped his bare ass in my palms and strained against him, my body floating closer to completion with every labored breath.

He groaned and I wrenched away just far enough to watch the passion build on his face. To see the heightened color of his complexion and the light of his eyes spike darker with the growing fervor between us.

A guttural moan came from deep within him. His gaze met mine as the swell inside him rose further, crested and then broke in climax.

"God, Ellie. Come."

He stayed with me and surged over and over for the final few seconds until I could join him.

I did. And, again, I screamed.

But what was different about this time was that, though I wanted the release, I didn't need it. The attachment I'd begun to feel had more to do with an emotion that defied physicality, however pleasurable.

Love?

Love
.

It scared the shit out of me. No way could I utter it aloud.

"Unbelievable," Andrei whispered. "It is always so with you."

I smiled and kissed his shoulder, clutching him to me for a moment before he had to pull away.

He removed the condom, perched on an elbow and looked down at me, his expression serious. "This is strange attraction. I am not ever experiencing such a thing before."

"Me either."

Only my one-night stand with Sam had approached this level of intensity. But, while the emotions may have been equally potent at the time, Sam proved to me that any fantasies of love were pure delusion.

Was I being delusional now?

"Andrei," I began. "What would happen if the sex part between us were more, um, normal? Not always this spectacular? Would you still want us to be together?"

He cast me an odd look. "You are not liking that things work this way?"

I laughed. "No. I mean,
yes
, of course I like it. It's amazing. But I was wondering if you'd still want to see me so much if we just had average sex."

He flopped down on his back and put his head on the pillow next to mine. "Do all American women ask these crazy questions?" He nudged my leg with his foot and trailed his fingertips over my naked breasts.

We weren't quite ready to do it again, but I could feel faint stirrings of arousal already and my breath quickened. The fact that Andrei was trying to change the subject kind of pissed me off, though, so I replied, "Only American women who are crazy enough to be sleeping with Russian men."

This answer did not faze him.

He circled my nipples with his index finger and licked his lips, so I knew what was coming. "I am Russian man wanting to explore all parts of you. It is great bonus we can join our bodies in sex this way, but you are lovely woman. You are kind person. For now, it is working to be with you and also to be fucking. I am not seeing problem."

No, he wouldn't, would he?

I decided to try again. "Look. All I'm saying is that I hope you're not with me
only
because of how good things are between us in bed. I've had men cheat on me before, and I won't let that ever happen again." I looked him straight in the eye so he'd know I meant every syllable.

He nodded, taking it in.

"So," I continued, "if you someday find yourself liking the sex, but not liking me as much, it'd be better for me if we broke things off instead of trying to stay together. I don't want you being with me for physical things but wishing you were talking with someone else."

He put his wet lips to my nipple and sucked on it hard. The delicious tugging made my heart fillip. "I am not wanting to talk to or have sex with someone else, Ellie."

Not quite a declaration of everlasting love, but it was hopeful. And I needed that kind of hope.

Less than a half hour of suckling and licking and stroking later, I screamed again.

His name, this time.

The week before Easter I took a personal day off work to go shopping. The wedding/union was still six weeks away, but I needed to find a really great dress since Mark and Seth had asked me to be one of their readers. Plus, I needed to buy a few other things, and I wanted to shop for them without Andrei knowing.

I went to the mall alone, which is to say, Jane went with me.

Why do you linger in this section?
Jane asked as I wandered around the lingerie department of Marshall Field's, admiring the many lacy, silky fabrics.

No reason
. But I made a note to visit Victoria's Secret later.

She sniffed.
There seems no need for special undergarments. You and Mr. Sergiov appear to require very little by way of intimacy inducements
.

I grinned.
True
. I always mentally locked Jane out of the bedroom, but she knew what went on nevertheless. The heat between Andrei and me had only risen, and I wanted to keep stoking that fire. I figured a sheer teddy might do the trick.

Jane said,
Were you two married, I could not imagine a couple more inclined to take their connubial responsibilities seriously. There is surely no need for much more...kindling of flames
.

But we're not married. And it's the dawning of the twenty-first century. No matter what, I don't want him to lose interest. Because I
--I hesitated, then went ahead and told her the rest since she could deduce it anyway.
Because I want him to marry me. I want him to WANT to
.

There was a long pause.

I realize marriage in your era is not quite as intractable a situation as it was in mine. But, Ellie, are you most certain you wish this foreign gentleman to be your husband forevermore?

Andrei's foreignness scarcely registered anymore, and I adored his accent, so I scoffed at this.

Jane sighed.
Aside from your shared passion, are you truly in love with this man? Is he really the person you wish to cleave to? Whose name you would welcome as your own? Do you desire to link your ancestry with his through the connection of parenthood?

I thought of having Andrei's babies and smiled. They'd be so cute, a combination of features and ethnicities, like Angelique and Leo's daughter, Lyssa.

Mmm-hmm,
I replied.

You are not merely feeling the tug of motherhood since you have grown old?

Old?

My apologies. It would have been considered old in my day. Rather, I mean since you have grown up.

That's better.
I couldn't deny that being a mom had become increasingly appealing recently, but I had lots of time left for that stuff. (Right?) I didn't have a ticking biological clock. I really didn't.