Adirondack Audacity (26 page)

Watching his dark silhouette walk to the car, I have
an idea, a flash of inspiration; a light bulb moment. I
remember. “Vic, wait,” I cry, reaching into my purse,
limping down the walkway, pulling out the strip of pink
condoms my girlfriends gave me as a dare….waving them
like a pink flag of courage. They challenged me to live a
little. And I’m ready to live,
boy am I ready to live.
“I’ve got
boots!” I squeal.
“Boots?” He asks with a quizzical look on his face.
“Condoms, rubbers, safe sex! Dummy.” I laugh. “I’m
supposed to be the naïve one, Mr. Hollywood Hot Stuff.”
I hear a snort of laughter erupt from Ike.
Vic turns and slowly walks toward me, stopping just
outside my arm’s reach. He whispers, “Elle,
caro
, you are
making this so hard.” He runs a hand through his hair,
shaking his head in doubt. “I’m afraid to touch you the
way I want to,” he says, a quiet tremor in his voice. “I’ve
hurt you enough for one lifetime.”
“Vic, don’t leave me here.” I plead, holding out my
hand to him. “I’m a big girl. And Cinder-Ella doesn’t
want to go home, she already lost the slipper, but Prince
Charming is standing right in front of her, the carriage
awaits,” I take off my shoe, and hold it out to him as an
offering, it winks and gleams in the moonlight. “It is past
midnight, the clock bell has tolled……….take me home
with you. Finish the story.”
“Elle,” his voice husky with emotion. He covers the
distance between us in two short strides, sweeping me
into his arms, as only Prince Charming can….and the
shoe drops……. forgotten, sparkling like a jewel in the
dew covered grass.

Ike pulls the limo up a curved driveway leading to a
Spanish style villa jutting out over the ocean. Vic’s West
Coast retreat. The entrance to the house is crowned in a
gorgeous profusion of bougainvillea growing over the
doorway, framed with pots of brightly colored flowers.
Vic sweeps me into his arms and carries me over the
threshold. As he gently places me down, my eyes are
drawn to a doorway leading to a patio opening to a view
beyond the boundaries of the house. A vista of sky and
water as far as the eye can see. A small infinity pool
tumbles over the edge, mimicking a river flowing to the
ocean. The beach below the balcony is a sea of white
sand leading to the surf of the frigid Pacific Ocean. The
half-moon overhead casts a pearly glow to the beach. But
the stars overhead are brilliant in the cloudless sky.

“Welcome home, Ella,
my mia bella, welcome home.”
He runs the palms of his hands upward along my arms,
so close I can feel his heat. “I can’t believe you are here
with me.”

That’s two of us….
because once here in his home,
I’m as nervous as a school girl on her first date. What
have I started? Maybe I should have taken this more
slowly. And then my attention is distracted, as he steps
behind me, turning me toward the ocean view, placing
kisses slowly up my spine, only stopping at the delicious,
titillating hollow of my neck. His fingers caress the top of
my dress, sliding against my skin, and his touch resonates
through me. I moan, melting into his body.

Beguiled
….if I ever doubted the word, now I
understand. His touch embraces me with warmth, the
fulfillment of a promise. With Vic, I’m beguiled, pulled
along a current into depths beyond myself. No
boundaries, no rules, just Vic. He tilts my head as he
draws closer, his fingers a soft brush of warmth across
my cheek, there is no escape. All I see are those
compelling eyes. There is no delusion into believing any
less, with Vic, it’s only more.

A soft tug at the base of my French twist, hastily
arranged when we walked on the beach releases a
scattering of pins as my hair yields to his marauding
hands. He slides his fingers upwards, releasing the
restricting coils.

The soft graze of his firm lips quickens my blood
until the pulse beating in my breast throbs in a delicious
ache. He slips his arms around me, embracing me,
pressing my breast against his hard chest. And, oh, it feels
so wonderful, being held this way after so long. His
mouth rolls off my lips and begins to trail a series of
warm, moist kisses over my face. I feel myself tremble,
the passion for him, once possessed, then stolen away,
now resurrected. His lips move against mine, tasting my
hunger, adding to his desire for me. My arms wind
around his shoulders, holding him as my fingers tangle in
his hair, his soft, silky hair. That primitive flame, dormant
for so many years, thought never to be rekindled, leaps to
life in a firestorm of passion, burning with a need I had
nearly forgotten.

“Breathe,” He whispers, his lips brushing mine.
“Breathe, we have all night, nothing can disturb us here.”
My head falls back into the cradle of his arms, staring up
at him, shocked by my response; dizzy from….lack of air
and the consuming need for his touch.

I can see every feature, every line, every plane of his
face etched in the dim light. He runs his hands over my
shoulders, his soft palms sending shivers across my skin.
And in one swift move, the zipper of my dress slides
open, and the blue sheath rustles as it cascades down, a
shimmering pool of color on the tile floor. He helps me
step out of it, the cool night air strokes my fevered skin;
and I feel his gaze lower to the swell of my breasts
peeking above the lace-edged bra. He slips his hand
around the base of my throat, pushing his thumb into the
soft skin beneath my chin, forcing my head back until all
I see are sparks of golden fire in his eyes, whirling in the
shimmer of stars framed by the overhead skylight. His
fingers deftly unhook the bra, as my breasts spill out; he
unleashes his tongue on them. Groaning, I bury my
hands into his hair, eyes closed against the onslaught of
desire. Stopping, he looks up at me expectantly, and
gently slips my panties down. He pauses, and stares for a
moment, drinking me in, his eyes smolder. Removing his
jacket, he tosses it to the mounting pile of clothes on the
floor.

Rather clumsily, and with shaking fingers I fumble
with the studs from his shirt, undoing the top three
buttons. The contrast of white linen against bronzed skin
hypnotic, and I rejoice in the smooth feel of his chest
under the palm of my hand. And as much as I love a man
in a tuxedo, I have a feeling that what is underneath….is
better,
much better………
soon his trousers join my dress
on the floor. I glance down at my body barely
recognizing it in the gossamer of moonlight, his hand
slips between my thighs. He presses his palm to the
sensitive mound of flesh, his fingers sliding inside me.

As his fingers press into me, his thumb passes over
the sensitive nub of nerves hidden beneath soft curls. My
eyes close as my body moves against his hand. “Tell me,”
he whispers, his breath warm, his skin tasting faintly of
the sea and salt beneath my lips. In a harsh whisper, his
voice and eyes question, “Are you sure, Elle?”

The demands of his hands on my flesh cause a
clawing hollow at my insides. I can’t believe he’s
asking…...the passion I feel for him is like a freight train
running downhill without brakes.

“I want you.” Slipping my arms around his neck,
my
voice comes almost in a whimper. “Please don’t stop.”
He grabs my hips and pulls me into him; my hands reach
for his neck and his mouth crashes down, his tongue
finds mine. I moan into his mouth as we kiss savagely. He
breaks free; scoops me into his arms, and carries me
toward the bedroom. The trip a blur of touching, kissing,
tongues, and tortuous desire aching to be fulfilled. He
eases back slightly standing at the edge of the bed, “Are
you sure?”

“Absolutely!” I’m
frantic with desire to touch and
explore every inch of his body.
Stop asking!
As we tumble
onto the silk duvet covering the bed, he whispers,

“Smooth
, warm, and beautiful,” he makes me believe
his words. He strokes my face with the back of his
knuckles, bending he kisses my lips briefly. His hands
move, slow and firm, it seems natural, and glorious, as
our fingers link rolling over in the bed, to break apart,
finding new secrets to explore. I clutch his shoulders as
he kisses and nibbles along the undersides of my breasts,
avoiding the two spots I’m desperate for him to touch.
My breast swell and ache for the fire of his mouth to
claim them.
“You still smell like the forest.” He says.
“The forest?” I ask dumbly, arching my back, tugging

his head to where I want
it…..his mouth closes over my
nipple and I squirm in ecstasy. “The forest? I taste like
the forest; you think I taste like……..
oh…my
!”

He lifts his head from my breast, my bones turning to
mush as his fingers explore lower. “Ummm, yes,
mountains… pine… sunshine…wildflowers,” he
breathes on the nipple before closing his teeth over it so
gently. His touch feels like soft velvet brushing against
my skin. He sinks one long finger into my waiting depths
and he has me squirming and writhing beneath his hands
and mouth. My body licked with flames of desire, so
strong I’m surprised the smoke alarm doesn’t go off. As I
scream his name, glorious peaks of desire sweep through
my body, spike, and clench all the muscles in my pelvis.

I want him inside me now, I’m done with wait
ing, his
breath hisses out as he teases me with his fingers.
“I want you,” I beg…“Now, Vic, now.”
His mouth joins mine, and I feel his desperate
hunger. Keeping his eyes on me, he sits up, reaches over
to the nightstand and grabs a foil packet, and rips it open
with his teeth. Together we slowly roll the condom onto
him. He grabs my hands and moves me onto my back as
he eases himself into me. He closes his eyes and flexes his
hips to meet mine, filling me. It feels so good, it has been
so
long.
He rocks his head back, his mouth forming a
perfect O as he exhales.
I move with his rhythm, numbing all thought and
reason, lost in the sensations of pleasure rioting through
my body. My breath ragged as I open my eyes in disbelief
this is Vic…..truly Vic. With open eyes, I see he’s staring
back at me, eyes glowing, “Ella, Ella, my bella,” he groans
through clenched teeth. I roll over on top of him, taking
control of my pleasure, and I cry out his name, spinning
up….and up…then crumpling on top of him.
“Oh,
Elle!
” he groans, holding me still, letting go and
finds his release.
…
Exhausted, I sleep until the edge of dawn breaks
through the window. Propping my head up on the pillow,
I’m pleased to see Vic sprawled across the bed, dead to
the world. The Hollywood ladies may be young and buff,
but the older ladies…..
Careful not to wake him, I walk barefoot across the
room and pick up a white button down shirt left
discarded on the floor. Holding it to my face I inhale his
scent ……
uummmmm
, but before any more erotic ideas
pop into my head………I need a bathroom.
Refreshed from a hot shower, I explore the house,
searching…the morning mantra of c
offee, coffee, coffee,
running through my head. I gasp in delight crossing the
threshold into the kitchen. The room is awash with color,
brightly hued Mexican mosaic tiles in blues, greens, and
yellows explode over an arched cooking area. The center
island covered in the contrasting tiles and the walls are
painted the color of a warm pumpkin burnished by the
autumn sun. Stepping out on to the terrace framed by the
ocean view, I momentarily forget my pressing need for
coffee; the view is breathtaking. A light breeze carries the
early morning chill off the ocean, the sound of pounding
surf and salty sea air intoxicates my senses. Sunlight
spreads across the rippling water like a blanket of
shimmering gold. I stretch, take a deep breath and exhale.
With a shiver, I hug his shirt closer enjoying the view
until the cold morning air sends me inside.
A quick search of the kitchen reveals an unopened
can of coffee and some powdered creamer. Well, better
than nothing. The cupboard and refrigerator hold no
fresh foods, only canned or frozen convenience foods.
The personification of a bachelor pad: a king size bed,
Jacuzzi bathtub, stocked bar and no food.
Climbing the stairs to the bedroom, two steaming
mugs of black coffee in my hands, I can’t believe I’m
standing here, in a house overlooking the Pacific Ocean,
and best of all, Vic sprawled across the bed. I take a sip
of the scalding hot coffee, and gawk, yep, still here and
naked, naked, naked.
He’s sound asleep, only the bottom
half of his body covered by the sheet, his broad chest and
arms splayed across the bed, one leg poking out of the
quilt. I enjoy the view for a few moments, thinking it
would be nice to kiss the back of his neck, his bare
shoulder, the small of his back….and then…...
Under the heat of my gaze, Vic rolls over with a
yawn, an appreciative smile lights up his face as he
reaches for the coffee. “Beautiful, sexy, and she makes
coffee. The ideal woman.” He takes a sip and throws
back the sheet, inviting me to slip in beside him.
“Just don’t ask me to cook.” I place my mug on the
nightstand and slide in next to him.
“That’s what restaurants are for,” He chuckles into
my ear. In the recesses of my mind, an ugly thought
comes ……Hollywood stars don’t date fifth grade school
teachers and take them out to expensive restaurants in
lieu of beautiful starlets for long.
Be careful.
“Come here and let me see you in the light of day.”
He puts his coffee down and opens his arms.
Oh
….
not a good idea
…
!
” My mind screams. This is not
the same body it was thirty years ago. My hand clenches
the collar of his shirt tightly against my body, warding off
his probing eyes. He’s dated Vanessa Leason, and married
Sophia DeLong, just to mention a few. Having him see
me naked in the dark and slightly drunk is one thing, but
sober and in the light of day…..is
totally
another.
“Maybe, we should just leave the shirt on,” I say,
trying to distract him with a trail of kisses punctuated
with nibbles along his jaw line.
“Elle,” he whispers huskily into my ear. “I‘ve waited
thirty years to see you again. Don’t make me wait any
longer.”
Crap…
“
Ummm
, this is not exactly the same body you knew
thirty years ago,” I plead with desperation, thinking of the
stretch marks here and the stretch marks there with a few
pounds thrown in………..just for extra measure. Botox
and liposuction are not on my list of vocabulary of
words. “Let’s just crawl down under these nice soft
sheets. Egyptian cotton, 400 count. They’re lovely.”
The words coming out of my mouth are cut off as he
kisses me to silence. He kisses my forehead, my eyelids,
my lips then my nose, even my fingertips, rolling back
onto his side so he can look into my eyes.
“Trust me, Elle,” he gently pries my fingers off the
shirt, slowly undoing each button, his mouth and tongue
create a trail of desire as my skin is unveiled under his
searching eyes. “Your breasts are beautiful,” he says
kissing the nipples into taut peaks.
“Stop, stop, really you should stop.” I laugh trying to
wiggle out of his embrace. “I’ve reached the point where
sheets and clothes are my friends.”
Not to be out done, he reaches and hauls me back
into his arms, sliding the shirt off.
“You’re just being a little tease.” He holds my arms
over my head and skillfully kisses my protests away.
Sweeping the sheet away; he trails kisses down my back,
and stops at my backside and starts laughing. An
incredulous expression crosses his face as he stares at my
bottom.
“
What
?” I wince. “I told you it wasn’t so pretty
anymore.”
“No, no, your butt is beautiful, especially with the
little turtle tattooed on it. Let me get a closer look.”
Crawling across the bed, he straddles my legs to get a
better view.
“What? Tattoo? Ohhhh…….
damn it!
I’d forgotten
about that stupid tattoo. Jack talked me into getting it on
our trip to Aruba. Propped up on both elbows, I look
over my shoulder as he examines the little sea turtle done
in aqua green ink.
“I didn’t take you for the tattoo type. I like this
naughty Ellen.” He’s fairly purring as he stretches
out……his finger tracing the outline of the tattoo,
completely distracting my thoughts. “How long have you
had it?” He plants a smacking kiss on the turtle.
“Ummmm……Jack?” I blurt out, trying to ignore the
racing of my heart.
“Your husband was a tattoo artist?” His other hand
joins the first one, caressing, exploring and titillating the
lower region of my body.
“No, no, not really.” I hear the sound of my breath
gasping at the back of my throat, then exhaling into a low
moan. “We were on vacation…….
ahhhhhh
……….and
drunk….
oh my goodness
…….and he talked me into getting
that ridiculous tattoo on my ass.”
“I love it.” And he takes a playful nip at my butt.
Ouch!
“And your shoulders are exquisite too.”
A trail of kisses moves up my spine to the hollows of
my shoulder blades.
As I try to squirm out of his embrace, embarrassment
becomes replaced with desire.
Oh, don’t stop.
Who am I to
argue with the man? Maybe I fulfill some soccer
mom/school teacher notch on his list of lovers.
Personally, I think poor vision and lousy judgment
clouded by lack of sleep explain his questionable
perception skills.
But, oh,
I really don’t care, a groan of
pleasure escapes my lips, his tongue licks the hollow of
my hip…....
and
he knows stuff too.
“This body has given birth to three children, one of
them, mine. I want to see every inch of you.” He rips the
sheet from the bed, and pauses to gaze with unabashed
desire at me. The inner princess in me gives a whoop of
relief and joy. “Your body is more beautiful and real than
all those plastic women I have been with for the past five
years. With them, you can’t tell where fake ends and real
begins. It’s superficial, and all for show.” Looking into
my eyes, he runs his thumb along the plane of my cheek
and jaw. “I’ve missed you, Elle. This is what I want.”
With that statement he rolls on top of me, hard and ready
to give proof to his desire, my breathing accelerates as his
steady rhythm pushes me higher and higher, my hips
meet his thrust for thrust, he stares down at me in
adoring wonder, and I lose myself in him.
…
Wide awake after our own personal sunrise salute, the
sound of the ocean surf beckons for an early morning
walk on the beach. “Do you have a sweatshirt or shorts;; I
could borrow?” A dubious glance at my discarded blue
gown lying next to his crumpled tuxedo shirt shows a
wardrobe seriously lacking in beach attire.
I look doubtfully from his long, lean torso to my
pitiful pile of clothes scattered across the hallway. He
rolls over onto his back, looking rough, restless and
disheveled. The way a man should look after a night of
unrivaled debauchery.
“Come on, I’m sure I have something that will work
for you.” He gets out of bed and heads down the hallway,
pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
I follow him into an adjoining dressing room; the
entire wall on one side is a built-in armoire. He opens a
cabinet door with a flourish to reveal neatly arranged
shelves of clothing. “Keep these on hand for my
overnight guests.” He says with a proud grin. Inside the
cupboard are approximately twenty soft terry cloth
jogging suits in a variety of pastel hues, arranged
according to size with matching tank tops and flip-flops.
“What’s this?” I ask, confused by the wide range of
size and selection.
“I keep these on hand for...
uhhhhh…….ohhhhhhh….”
He suddenly looks contrite and realizes he divulged more
information than needed.
You have got to be kidding me!
I’m horrified.
“These…..these are replacement clothes for your various
one night stands, unfortunate ladies who wake up and
find their clothes in tatters the next morning? You have
morning-after
bimbo
clothes! How convenient.” I
pronounce scathingly. Instinctively, I can’t help but reach
out and caress the soft terry material, thinking how
comfortable it would be to slip one on right now.
Over my
dead body!
My subconscious screams. The possibility of
being lumped into a one night stand-booty call firms my
resolve. I fume, “And you, the congenial host, ready to
meet the ladies every need, supply new clothes to replace
the sullied ones. Where are the toothbrushes?”
He looks chagrined, pointing to the bathroom. I
shake my head in disbelief. I can’t believe what I’m
seeing. “Just how many women have you been with, Vic?
You have more clothes in here than the Gap.” In the
light of day, my beguiling of the night before suddenly
seems irresponsible and potentially dangerous.
“I’m sorry, Elle,” he sighs, looking away with hands
on his hips. “I tried to warn you last night, I haven’t
exactly been a saint. The women were, basically
meaningless affairs, I’m ashamed to admit, diversions of
pleasure. I’ve been reasonably careful, but I’ve been with
a lot of women the past few years.” He shrugs his
shoulders. “They just come.”
great.
I feel the breath in my chest catch against rising
panic. I know I can’t expect our little affair to go far,
considering our different lifestyles. I’m just a distraction
to please him until the next one comes along. And against
my will, a sob escapes.
“Don’t cry, Elle.” He pleads, running his hands up
and down my arms instinctively willing the blood back
into my numb limbs. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot, and
it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone who is
real, not some Hollywood version of morality.” He pulls
me into his arms. “I didn’t think. The house came
equipped like this and the housekeeper just keeps things
in order and well supplied. I’m sorry…….Welcome to
Hollywood.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Vic, was I just another in a long list of women last
night?” I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. I’m
a big girl; I think to myself, I knew what I was getting
myself into, hey, I supplied the boots. Oh,
dear God,
I
supplied the condoms. My face turns crimson at the
memory and a tear slips unchecked down my cheek.
I furiously wipe it away and steel myself for the answer.
“It’s okay, I realize….” I caress his chest to reassure him
that I understand. “Last night was fun; it doesn’t have to
be anything more than that.”
“Elle, no, no, no,” he groans, gently wiping away my
tears. “I never stopped looking for you. Maybe in part
that explains the womanizing. I entered into a disastrous
marriage; there were qualities in Sophia that reminded me
of you.”
“What about…Vanessa?” I hug my arms, willing
myself not to touch him, just the scent of his skin
beckons, drawing me closer until the urge to move into
him overpowers me. I desperately want to believe him,
but do I even know him anymore? He’s obviously
charming; these women didn’t end up in his bed without
a little persuasive pressure on his part. I’m sure he knows
all the lines, all the right moves. A serial seducer of
women.
“Who?” He asks, confusion clouding his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I have no right to question who you
date.” My heart feels ready to burst, shattering into a
thousand pieces and scatter like broken glitter across the
tile floor.