Adirondack Audacity (33 page)

.
“Are you hurt?”she asks.
“I think I twisted my back a little. Nothing a hot bath
and a muscle rub won’t cure. Oh, Bridget, I’ve gone and
done it this time.” I plop down on a kitchen stool with a
wince. “Hanna is so upset, heaven knows, I can’t blame
her. Her father’s latest lover tumbling down at her feet,
screaming, half dressed and covered with straw.”
“Ohhh, I heard all about it.” Bridget mouth twitches
and she dissolves into laughter. “You flying down that
hay chute with your knickers half off, landing at her feet.
I can just imagine the look on Hanna’s face. Priceless!”
Laughing she sits down on a stool next to me, mopping
the tears from her face with a handkerchief. “Oh, Lord
have mercy on my soul, I can see it now. Mr. Vic
standing there his mouth hanging open caught between
the two of you.” Oh, she is enjoying this way
too
much.
“Wait until Miss Sophia hears about this one. The
proverbial shit will hit the fan. She was not in love with
those pictures hanging in the gallery. Mr. Vic said they
were art, she said they were pornography.”
I groan. “I’m worried about Hanna.”
“Don’t be.”
“Bridget! How can you say that? She’s very upset.” I
look at her incredulously.
“Hanna’s parents are actors;; she is well versed in the
fine art of melodrama. She has been practicing for this
role since she was two years old. Luckily, her parents
recognize the symptoms and treat her accordingly.”
Bridget says dryly. “Trust me, Hanna will live, that child is
a survivor.”
“If you say so,” I rise from the stool holding my sore
back. “I think it’s best if I make myself scarce. A hot bath
and a cup of tea is all the medicine I need right now.”
“Run along and pour your bath.” Bridget says. “I’ll
bring the tea up to you in a minute.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.” I ask,
leaning against the door jam.
“Go, I’ll bring up the tea.” Bridget makes shooing
motions with her hands, erupting into peals of laughter.
…
It’s almost seven o’clock when I come down for
dinner. Pausing at the doorway, I chew on my lower lip
working up enough nerve to go in and face Hanna. Hey,
it’s no big deal, I tell myself. She’s a fourteen year old kid,
not like I’m going to face Attila the Hun. Think positive,
what’s the worst she could do to me...poison,
switchblades, hand grenades….
When I reach the door to the outside veranda, I stop
and listen. Very still. Has Vic miraculously managed to
deflate Hanna’s raging anger? Entering the dining room,
she’s seated in quiet conversation with her father.
“Elle, come join us.” Vic says, rising from the table,
pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss. I cast a glance at
Hanna, prepared to duck the poison dart aimed at my
heart. Nothing, just a withering glance of dismissal cast in
my direction. Vic continues, “You seemed to have
recovered from your fall. How are you feeling?”
“Ummmm……. Amazing! A hot bath, a cup of
Bridget’s Irish tea and a little nap, I feel like a new
woman.” I say, slipping into the chair he’s pulled out for
me, checking the seat for protruding nails….. live
grenades…...spiny sea urchins. When assured my life’s
not in jeopardy, I extend my hand to Hanna. “Hanna, I’m
Ellen O’Connor, I hope you will forgive the
circumstances of our earlier meeting.” I continue, “I
don’t make it a habit of introducing myself to people half
dressed with underwear hanging out my pocket.”
Vic snorts with laughter, my eyes shoot daggers at
him.
You’re not helping!
Hanna views my extended hand with suspicion but
good manners and breeding force her to accept the
gesture of apology. “Yeah, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
What her voice lacks in enthusiasm is further covered by
a cloak of teenage disdain she wears like a mantle. She
adds under her breath, “I guess.”
Vic takes my hand and turns it over, tracing the line
of scar running from my wrist to index finger, encircling
my hand in his, our eyes meet across the table. He leans
in and kisses me lightly on the lips. Reaching across the
table to caress Hanna’s arm, he entreats, “Elle is
important to me, Hanna, I’m hoping you can be open
minded about our relationship.”
“Eewww, enough already, Dad.” She rolls her eyes.
“Seriously, if she makes you happy and you stop screwing
the rest of the world, I’m all for it, but enough of the
romancy stuff.” Hanna grumbles slouching in her chair.
“If you two can suck face at the table, then I can text.”
She casts a disparaging look in our direction and picks up
her phone. “When I get as old and lame as you, just shoot
me.”
Vic leans his forehead against mine and moans, “God
help me.” And I can’t help but think; he’s going to need
it…

Strains of rock music rouse me from slumber.
“What
the hell?” I mumble into the pillow, peering through the
mass of hair falling over my eyes. And realize I’m naked,
I never sleep naked. What happened to pajamas, I
always
wear pajamas? At least the old Ellen did…….this new
amorous Ellen….maybe not…I sigh….too much wine
and too much…..
oh, yes…..

For a moment I lie still. My head is pounding with
rhythmic pain, like some sort of massive jack-hammer
drilling music with deep bass notes into it, and I realize
it’s not my head, but the music pouring through the
house.…………Is that
Inagoda divida
, blaring from God
knows where? I’m transported back to the 70’s. I’ve died
and gone to Rock and Roll hell as
War, what is it good for,
absolutely nothing,
thumps through the walls. Wiggling off
my stomach onto my back like a beached turtle, I see a
vision standing in the doorway. Okay, maybe hell just
turned into heaven.

“Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up
. The day is wasting
away.” He shoves a mug of steaming coffee in my face.
“I’ve got big plans for us today, mia, mia.”

Please tell me he is
not
talking about the two of us
jogging together…..I’m not sure I can walk, let alone run.
It’s not that I’m against exercise; I just like a point to it. I
enjoy a game of tennis, a hike to the top of a mountain,
kayaking to a picnic on some far off shore, biking for
breakfast. I realize exercise usually results in food, like a
carrot held out to a donkey. And I don’t understand this
running for fun stuff. The only way I’d run…is if I had a
serial killer chasing me with a sharp axe. Running clothes
aren’t even cute…..too tight and too much thigh.

Struggling into a sitting position, I gratefully accept
the mug, take a sip, and snuggle back into the pillows
with a contented sigh, blowing him a kiss of gratitude. He
flops down next to me, planting a quick kiss on my
cheek. “Great view, huh?” He asks, pointing at the
windows framing the forest below. Outside a stream
meanders through the woodland understory, beams of
sunshine break through the tree branches on a path
bordered with wildflowers.

“
This house is magical, Vic.” I nestle deeper into the
feather down comforter. “Except for that awful music,
it’s perfect. I’d never leave.”

“The music is my morning wake up mojo, gets me
charged for the day.”
Really,
what happened to quiet
morning meditation, no sweating, cuddling up against
him in the lotus position……worked for me. He is a
complex man. Stealing a peek at him over the rim of my
cup, I admit, complex or not, he is
really cute.
Day old
beard stubble, hair tossed back in casual disarray, T-shirt
under an open flannel shirt, artfully worn jeans; he looks
as if he stepped out of a high-end outdoor catalog.

“Speaking of leaving,”
he drains his cup, setting it
down on the nightstand. “Hank is waiting down at the
barn, he saddled a couple of horses and Bridget packed a
picnic for us. Come on, girl,
vamonos
! Get your cute little
ass out of bed.”

“What time
is it?” I ask, stifling a yawn, still not
comprehending the get out of bed, horses, outdoors,
picnic stuff.

“Six
-thirty.”
“
Oh, good God,
I forgot you’re a morning person.” I
crawl back under the covers. “This relationship is
doomed. You can’t keep me up all night and then wake
me at the crack of dawn.”

“Sure I can, watch.” With a laugh, he yanks the
comforter off my naked body, and playfully slaps my
butt. “Bridget packed
Twinkies
for you.”

…
While Bridget is perpetual energy in motion, her
husband, Hank is like a quiet, slow moving stream, more
comfortable with animals than people. The stable area of
the ranch is his domain. He prefers spending time in the
barn, and working a small herd of cattle. He is tall, sparse
and lean, steel gray hair cut short with piercing blue eyes,

and his skin is the color of worn leather.
“Morning, Ms. Ellen,” Hank greets me respectfully,
touching the rim of his hat. “I picked out a nice quiet
mare for you. Vic said you had a couple of bad falls,
making you a little skittish around horses.”
Skittish is an understatement. We had horses for years
while the kids were growing up. Jack and the kids were
natural born riders. I, on the other hand, not so much. I
always loved the grace and beauty of horses, but they
didn’t love me back. I tried riding with the kids, but the
minute I put my foot in a stirrup, the horse knew they
had a sucker on their back, and the bucking, jumping, and
running away games began. After a few falls, I hung up
my spurs, until today. Maybe I should have taken up
running, less distance between me and the ground.
“Thanks, Hank,” Taking a deep gulp, I approach the
horse, petting its soft muzzle, introducing myself.
“What’s her name?”
“Why, we just call her, Pretty Girl, because she is so
dainty and pretty.” Hank says with a chuckle, looping the
reins over the horse’s neck. “Do you need a leg up?”
“No, thanks, I’m good. Well, here we go, Pretty Girl.
Just take it easy with me.” I pat her neck, putting my foot
in the stirrup, and swing my leg over the horse’s back.
Settling my butt in the saddle……
Ouch………
just came
up with another plus for running. Squirming, I get the
lady parts situated;; I’m going to have to pace myself. I
think I’ve had more sex in the past few days than the last
three years of my marriage. And Jack was a horn dog.
Ouch……
wiggling a little bit more, finally, everything
settles in place.
“Are you okay up there, Ms. Ellen?” Hank looks at
me, a pained expression on his face. “You’re jiggling
around up there like there’s a burdock on your butt. Can
I fix something for you? Shorten the stirrups?……his
voice trails off.
“No, no, this is fine.” I answer brightly, reaching for
the reins in Hank’s hand. Straightening, I see Vic lead a
massive black horse out of the barn.
Holy Man O’War.
Look at that brute. Pretty Girl and I instinctively shy
away.
“You look like a natural up there,” Vic says,
mounting the sleek black stallion. “Diablo will help keep
her in line. Won’t you, boy?” I bet he will. I mutter to
myself, giving Pretty Girl a sympathetic pat on her neck.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Vic
reins in Diablo next to Pretty Girl, his eyes inquiring.
“Absolutely!” I say with false bravado.
Liar, liar, pants on
fire……again.
I’m going to need an audience with the
Pope to confess all the sins I’ve committed this weekend.
…
Chaparral and wild oats blanket the foothills as the
horses trot leisurely toward the cathedral-like groves of
conifers growing up the mountain slope. A few deciduous
trees are turning red and gold bringing in the first colors
of autumn. Sparkling drops of dew cling to the leaves,
glittering like jewels. The sun on our back chases away
the early morning chill. The air is crisp, clean and
refreshing. Relaxing, I enjoy the rhythm of the horse
moving beneath me, the creak of saddle leather, and the
muffled sound of hoof beats on the trail. Turning from
the foothills, the path climbs deeper into the mountains
coming out in a small clearing with a slow moving stream
veiled in a canopy of cottonwood trees and willow
bushes.
Vic reins his horse to a stop near the rushing stream.
“I thought we’d stop here. This is one of my favorite
places on the ranch.”
“Perfect.” Sighing, I settle back in my saddle,
appreciating the view of pine covered foothills and
mountain meadows. Smiling at Vic from my perch atop
the horse, I admit, “I enjoyed the ride. I think Pretty Girl
and I are going to be great friends. Look, I’m still on her
back.” I flick my hand at a stray fly buzzing the horse’s
ear.
Vic dismounts and comes to stand at the left side of
my saddle, “Here, let me help you down.” Placing my
hands on his shoulders, my body scrapes against the
rough material of his jacket in a slow abrasive slide down
his torso, a wave of sensation shoots through me as he
pulls me astride his steel-muscled thigh in an erotic glide,
oh giddyap……..
my fingers dig into the muscles of his arm.
His lips come down feasting hungrily on mine and before
I know it, he slips his hand between our bodies, flipping
open the buttons on my shirt, and slowly unzips my
jeans. I protest only when he breaks our kiss, and steps
back.
Holy cow or holy horse.
“Where are you going?” I whisper, grabbing his
forearms.
“Nowhere without you.” He loops his finger into the
strap of my tank top, gliding it down my shoulder. Pulling
me closer, he trails kisses down my neck to the sheer silk
of the shirt, stabbing at the pink crests with his tongue. I
close my eyes; and a sigh escapes my parted lips.
Oh, he is
so….good, even if I don’t want it……..I want it!
With infinite
care he undresses me, kissing every inch of my body,
drawing soft, pleasured sounds from my throat. He pulls
the boots and socks from my feet, lowering jeans and lacy
panties from my hips, his hands, his lips, and his tongue,
lap, nip and tease the soft sensitive inner thigh, coming to
rest and nuzzling the hollow of my hip…….
ummmmmm
He steps back suddenly, slowly undoing the buttons
of his flannel shirt, tossing it onto the pile of clothes.
Reaching down he lifts the hem of his T-shirt and flips it
over his head, revealing his chest, never taking his dark
eyes off mine. His boots and socks follow before he
grasps the top snap of his jeans.
“Let me.” I whisper, reaching over, slipping my bold
fingers inside the waistband of his jeans, and tug so he’s
forced to take a step closer to me. He gasps, and then
smiles down at me. I undo the button, but before I slid
the zipper down, I let my fingers find him through the
denim of his jeans. His hips thrust forward into the palm
of my hand, relishing my touch.
He exhales his breath with a hiss, “Oh, Elle, you
make me crazy.” Stepping back, he removes his jeans in
one swift, agile move…..
.
Taking my hand, he leads me into the stream, the
cool water licking at my fevered skin. Branches and leaves
arch above us. The trees on opposite banks try to reach
their mates from the other shore, falling short, a narrow
shaft of brilliant blue sky slicing between them. Not a
sound to be heard except the buzz of insects and rush of
water tumbling over rock. Walking into the pool, I lower
myself in, submerge, come up, water streaming,
smoothing my hair back. Like moving through liquid silk,
holding out my hands to him, I beckon and he walks into
my arms. Taking my outstretched hand; he puts my
fingers in his mouth, sucking as if to taste the water.
He cups my buttocks and pulls me hard against him,
so I feel the heat of him pulsing against me. His mouth
hot and hungry on mine, then in one swift motion, he
turns and slides my legs around his waist, pulling us back
to shore.
Carrying me to a blanket spread on the ground, his
mouth never leaves mine, hands twist into my hair, our
tongues entwined, as he gently lowers me down,
following, so he’s lying next to me, flesh to flesh.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, and I believe
him. His hand trails down along my waist, and I rejoice in
the feel of his touch, his hungry mouth at my breasts and
his skilled fingers caressing, stroking and loving me.
Hands moving over my hips, my bottom, down my leg
and back up again to rest at the apex of my thighs….
oh,
he’s soo good
.
Grasping my knee, he hitches my leg up, curling it
over his hip, making me gasp, and he chuckles at my
reaction.
Ohhhh,
I gaze at him;; he’s breathless, his dark
eyes locked on mine, as I slowly lay claim to his body. He
places his hands on my hips and pushes into me. The
peace and quiet of the stream broken only by our mingled
breath, as he rolls over taking me with him, and leisurely
he starts to move, closing his eyes, he moans softly. My
breathing accelerates as his steady rhythm pushes me
higher and higher. He’s kissing my mouth, my chin, my
jaw, his breath harsh against my ear with each gentle
thrust of his body.
“
Quierda,”
He gasps and my body starts to quiver, his
words my undoing, as we both come together.
Oh……my!
…
The banked pool in the stream creates an outdoor
Jacuzzi, washing away trail dust and heat of the day.
Locusts hum in the trees above as the temperature rises,
water ripples over smooth river rocks, glittering in the
late morning sun. Floating on my back, the sun overhead
reminds me……I’m starving. What can I say, I’m easily
distracted.
“Hey, where is the food, I’m famished!” Standing up
from the stream, water drips off my naked body along
with my inhibitions. Wrapping a soft sun-warmed towel
around me, I rummage through the saddlebags, looking
for food. Vic joins me, wearing jeans with the top button
undone and nothing else.
Nice, very, very, nice.
Bridget outdid herself, in addition to the
Twinkies,
she
packed a tablecloth, thermos of coffee, hard boiled eggs,
crusty bread, a fruit salad and mouth-watering little meat
pasties.
We wrestled for the last one, and I won. Hey, a girl
has to keep up her strength.
“What day is it?” I ask, brushing the crumbs off my
stomach.
“Who cares?”
“I know, but I’m going home on Friday. I promised
Trey I’d be back in time to take him to college. And my
contact with school says I have to be back to work on
Monday.” Thoughts of reality flood through me, I don’t
want to leave this fantasy. A few days with Vic and my
old life is a distant memory. It’s like I’ve walked through
the looking glass, entering into someone else’s existence.
Who am I? I muse, looking down at myself, sitting naked
on a blanket, munching a cookie, washing it down with a
shot of tequila from a flask found in Vic’s saddlebag. I
barely recognize myself; and since when do cookies and
tequila mix…..
I have a son, a job, a dog………responsibilities back
in New York. As much as my heart is consumed with
Vic, my inner voice of reason says, easy girl, slow down.
Let’s take this one-day at a time. I’m an organized person,
always have a plan, and believe it or not, I’ve grown more
conservative by the year. I wouldn’t describe myself as
prim and proper but…….. the sudden appearance of Vic;
blew my neat, organized world to pieces. Million and
millions of beautiful little Vic pieces.
“I’m not letting you go.” He pulls me into the
protective circle of his arms. “Don’t go.”
“Can’t I take you home with me?” I giggle at the
thought. “Look, my souvenir from California. Oh, what I
wouldn’t give to show you off. Especially to that prig
faced Joanne Goodwin. I’d love to see the expression on
her face. She does nothing but brag about her perfect
husband, children, house, country club, thriving law
practice, and on and on. Just once.” I sigh with regret.
“Are you suggesting I be your boy toy, an object of
sexual fantasy for your girlfriends?”
“Umm, yeah, something like that.” I say with a self
deprecating laugh, nuzzling his neck greedily with my lips.
“Why thank you, I’m flattered.”
“Spoken, like a true male. And yet part of me wants
to keep you a secret, a precious secret held close to my
heart.” I heave a deep sigh.
“Stay here with me, don’t go home.”
“Don’t you start filming a new movie soon?” I nudge
him gently, reminding him of his obligations. “On the
plane coming here, I read a magazine article about the
new movie.” I reach up and stroke his face, running my
hands over the stubble on his cheek. I trace the line of his
bottom lip then trail my fingers down his throat, leaning
over to kiss his collarbone.
“Yeah, next week, I need to leave for the South
Pacific.” He makes a low sound in his throat, his breath
washes over me, and he kisses me, lovingly, “I don’t want
to go without you…wait, I have an idea,” he sits up,
enthused with inspiration. “Go home, take Trey to
school, then quit your job and come join me on the
movie set. You don’t need to work, Elle, I have enough
money, as long as we’re not stupid. My business manager
keeps an investment portfolio for me. Even if I don’t
score any more movie roles, we’ll be fine. What do you
say?”
“Vic,” I pause, choosing my words carefully, realizing
the importance of this conversation. “I don’t want to
leave or lose you, but we’ve been together for less than a
week.”
“But it feels like we’ve never been apart.”
“I know. I feel the same way too.” Placing my hand
on the side of his face, I gently kiss the prominence of his
incredible cheekbones. “But we have children, jobs,
families, responsible adult stuff. I have to rescue my poor
dog from the kennel. Maybe if we had been more
cautious as kids, we’d have escaped some of the
consequences of our actions. We were so in love, so
impetuous. ”
“But that was then and this is now. And you can
bring the dog with you.” His finger traces the curve of
my breast, followed by the warmth of his mouth, licking,
kissing trying to distract me from the conversation. And
it almost worked.
“
Amigo,
” Taking a deep breath, I push him away,
“Let’s go slow…give ourselves time……get used to the
idea of being together……time to figure how to blend
our lives and families together. I love you, but it’s
complicated.”
“So what?” He fumes. “You go home and that’s it?
We see each other when it’s convenient?” Vic stands up,
pulls on his shirt and a wall of hurt builds between us. “I
thought…” he stalks to the stream bank, stops and turns
his back to me, fists pushed into his pockets, eyes pressed
shut, craning his head toward the sun, jaw muscle
twitching. “The thought of you leaving makes me crazy,
it’s eating me up inside. I know it’s only been a few days,
but this is me. I’m the same. I understand you have
responsibilities, but I
need
you, Elle. I didn’t realize how
much, until you came back into my life.”