Steven says something, snapping me back into reality.
“What?” I ask.
Steven stands there grinning from ear to ear. “I said, I take it he has strong lips?” He’s unable to contain his laughter.
“Were you spying on us? If you were, I think you need to give Dr. Hunter a call and work out your voyeur issues.”
“No, I wasn’t spying. I looked out and saw you two on the porch. That must have been some kiss.”
“It was.” I smile at him as I retreat to my bedroom.
#
I don’t have to be in the office until later this morning, so I call Dr. Hunter before leaving home. He’s had a cancellation and comes on the line immediately.
“Thank you for taking my call, Dr. Hunter.”
“Ali, how are you today?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, then continue. “I’ll get right to the point. They’re back. The nightmares, they’ve come back.”
“I see. How many have you had?”
“Just a couple, so far.”
“Do you remember anything about the dreams?”
“Yes and no.”
“Okay, so the usual. Do you have a prescription for sleeping pills?”
“No, I don’t want to take them again. Why is this happening now, after all this time?”
“Many factors can cause regression or flashbacks. You’ve had some major changes recently, not to mention your trip to New York through Houston. You also talked with me about a man who was interested in a relationship with you, which will be a major change in your life. How are you coping?”
“I’m taking your advice and getting to know Bryce. That’s his name, Bryce. We’ve been out a few times and I’ve enjoyed it, but I’m finding myself depending on him more than I think I should. More than is normal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Since our flight together, when he calmed me during that horrible storm, I feel a sense of peace when he holds me. This has been a really bad week and he was out of town. I missed him. Really missed him. When he came back and held me, it calmed me. Is this normal?”
“It’s perfectly normal to feel this way. It’s a new and exciting time early in your relationship. This is the time where bonds and trust are forged, or not. It sounds to me like you two have bonded. My question is, do you trust him?”
“I’m working on it. I haven’t told him about what happened to me.”
“Only you can decide when the time is right for full disclosure. I can’t decide that for you.”
“We haven’t . . . you know.” I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Have you thought about it?”
“Yes, but the thought scares me. I told him haven’t been with anyone for a long time. He asked how long and I think he was shocked. I’m afraid of rejection.”
“You’ve already determined he’s going to reject you?”
“It keeps running through my mind when he sees the scars inflicted on me by another man . . .” That bastard Thomas. “I can’t imagine he won’t be repulsed.” They repulse me.
“Do you think you should tell him something before you take that next step?”
“I guess so, but I don’t know how to explain why I have them.”
“You could start with the truth. That’s usually the best place to start.”
“I can’t. Not right now. It’s too soon to drop that on him. Don’t you agree?”
“Do you want me to agree with you?”
“I want you to guide me.”
“Let’s talk more about your week. You said you had a bad week.” I tell him about my doctor’s appointment and the planned surgery.
“You’ve come to terms about the surgery. This is a positive step forward, Ali. Can you see these scars as a symbol that you’re a strong person who survived a horrible ordeal? Survived and flourished. Don’t let the emotional scars control you.”
“I try not to.” I take a deep breath. “I also had a dream that I remember.”
“Oh?” he says, surprised.
“It was about Bryce. I was trying to tell him, but he walked away from me. I begged him to come back so I could explain. When he stopped and looked at me, it wasn’t Bryce. It was Thomas.”
“I see. Perhaps your subconscious is trying to process your feelings toward Bryce. Your fear of telling him about your past, about what happened, and your fear of rejection, it’s all coming together at the same time. It doesn’t mean Bryce will leave you. This is where trust in Bryce plays a major role. You have to give trust before you can take it away.”
I mull over his words. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I hear a small laugh. “Have you told Bryce about your upcoming surgery?”
“No.”
“So, you’ve made the decision not to tell the man who brings you comfort, who seems to care a great deal for you, and you for him, you’re having surgery?”
“He’ll ask why. That’s why I can’t tell him.”
“Are you asking for me to agree with you again?”
“No. There’s a lot of behind the scenes issues going on with him. Now may not be the best time.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“There’s a woman he dated, a socialite, who didn’t take well to him ending things with her. She shows up everywhere he is, and even at his latest trip to L.A. She managed to be photographed with him, and of course, it made the papers. Bryce said she knows about us, and I think she’s having him, or both of us, followed.”
“Ali, this is a serious situation. Don’t make light of it. Has he contacted the authorities?”
“No, he says he keeps telling her he doesn’t want her. She’s not taking no for an answer. I don’t know what to do. She tried to attack me yesterday, and I had to defended myself.”
“What? You didn’t call the police?” He sounds angry. I tell him what happened. “Ali, there are several stalker profiles. This person sounds like someone who has a narcissistic personality disorder. She may feel wounded, insulted, and will seek vindication. The rejected stalker is more likely to harm the person they are stalking. Never underestimate a threat made by a rejected stalker. You need to be careful with people like her. Their views are distorted and can be very dangerous.”
“I can take care of myself, Dr. Hunter. I just earned my 4th degree black belt.”
“Congratulations. I know you can take care of yourself – when you see it coming. Did any of this bring up feelings from your past?”
I think about it for a moment. “Would you believe me if I said no? It happened so fast I didn’t have time to think. I was running on pure adrenaline back to the office, and then I had to deal with Jodi.”
“Jodi, your boss?”
“Yes.” I tell him about the phone call from Mara’s lawyers.
“Stalkers with that type of personality disorder won’t stop. Something drastic has to happen. Their world has to come tumbling down before they stop, and it’s usually not a good outcome. Has Bryce considered a restraining order? I know they’re not always effective, but it’s a start.”
“I’ve brought it up, but he doesn’t think it’s necessary.”
“If something happens, and he has to defend himself and there’s no record of her actions beforehand, it may not turn out well for him. I’ve seen it happen one too many times. Ali, you should also think of getting a restraining order, especially since the stalker sees you as the person keeping her from the person she desires. Another thing you must consider, with your training, your body could be considered a deadly weapon if you had to defend yourself with more force than you did yesterday.”
I don’t need trouble. I sure as hell don’t need something to happen where my past may be brought up either.
“Thank you for your help, Dr. Hunter. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“You’re strong and can handle a lot more than you think.” I hope he’s right.
As I’m about to leave for work, the doorbell rings. When I open the door, I’m floored by what I see. There’s a pair of hands wrapped around a vase filled with I don’t know how many long stemmed white roses.
“I have a delivery for Ali,” the voice behind the massive bouquet says.
“That’s me,” I squeal out happily. “I’ll take them. Thank you.” When I read the card, a smile crosses my face and my heart:
These remind me of you. Beautiful. Pure. Strong.
Bryce
He’s so romantic. I call and get his voice mail. “Hi, it’s me. I just received the most beautiful roses I’ve ever seen. I love them, thank you. Can’t wait to see you tonight.” I leave for work, and nothing will be able to remove this smile from my face today.
J
odi told me Mara’s attorney called to say she had dropped the lawsuit. I start wondering why then it dawns on me; it must have something to do with Bryce. I want to only think good thoughts about him right now. My ringing phone draws me out of my daydream.
“This is Ali.” There’s nothing but silence. “Hello? This is Ali. If you can hear me, I can’t hear you.” Silence, followed by a dial tone. rude and hanging up.
“Trina, please see if anyone else is having a problem with the phones. Mine seems to cut off the caller before they can speak to me.”
Ever since Jodi told me the attorney had phoned to say that Mara had dropped the pending lawsuit, I’ve been feeling relieved. But now, I’ve starting wondering why she dropped the lawsuit. Did it have something to do with Bryce? I want to think only good thoughts about him right now. Think of the way I feel when we’re together, when his mouth is on mine, and tingling at the touch of his hands I know I’m ready for more than the baby steps I’ve been taking in our relationship. After all, I’m a grown woman. It’s silly to push Bryce away when he brings me comfort and I feel such a need for him.
I’ve read it’s a huge turn-on for a man to cook dinner for his lover, especially when he’s anticipating the lover being dessert. He’s cooking dinner for me tonight, and I’m excited. Tonight may be the night.
As my workday winds down, I wonder why I haven’t heard from Bryce. Mara creeps into my thoughts. What did he have to do to get bat shit crazy, rejected stalker Mara to drop her lawsuit? I don’t want to think about it, but it’s now weighing heavily on my mind. I decide to call him.
“Hello.” He sounds so, I don’t know, but I don’t like it.
“Hi,” I say, equally cautious.
Silence.
“How’s your day been?” I ask, not knowing if I want to know.
“Shitty.”
“Bryce, have I done something to upset you. Every answer is one word syllables.”
“No.”
Okay, not the reaction I was expecting. I decide to take the high road and let him off the hook. “It’s obvious something’s upset you and you need to sort it out, so I’ll understand if you want to cancel tonight.”
“You don’t want to see me?” His answer takes me by surprise.
“That’s not it at all. Judging from your mood, maybe we should reschedule. Another time?”
“Ali, no. I want to see you. I have to see you.”
“Are you sure? I’ve never heard you like this.” When would I ever have heard him “like this” after only dating for a month?
“Yes, I’m more than sure. It’s been a rough day and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. How about I pick you up at six?”
It’s five o’clock now. “That doesn’t give me much time. Six thirty?” I negotiate.
“Six thirty it is. I’ll see you then,” he says.
I know why he’s in a foul mood. It’s that fucking whacked out nut job, Mara. Did she demand something from him for the lawsuit to be dropped? Does she have something on him? I have an uneasy feeling, but hope I’m wrong.
#
I choose a simple sundress with spaghetti straps and a zipper up the back. Just right for what I’m hoping will be a relaxed, carefree dinner. From my bedroom window I see Bryce has arrived. I send a quick text to Steven, telling him where I’ll be. Before Bryce has a chance to ring the doorbell, I open the door. He’s freshly showered, looking enticing and smelling good, as usual. When he sees me, his eyes light up and there’s no sign of his previous bad mood.
“Ready?” he asks, leaning over and giving me a quick kiss.
“As I’ll ever be. These are the beautiful roses you sent today. White roses are my favorite,” I reply, pointing toward the vase and he smiles.
“I meant every word written on the card.”
We’re both quiet, lost in our own thoughts as we drive to Bryce’s house. When we walk in, I marvel again at the beauty of his home. Everything’s exactly the way I would decorate if I lived here. Warm, inviting, and comfortable. Perfect, like him. He leads me toward the breakfast bar and pours us each a glass of wine.
“To many wonderful nights just like tonight,” he says, clinking his glass with mine. I meet his toast with a shy smile and he gives me a chaste kiss.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, I want you to sit back and relax. I have everything under control.” I ease myself onto the most comfortable barstool I’ve ever sat in, watching with fascination as he begins to make dinner. He drops pasta into boiling water before coming around to me.
“Chicken Alfredo?” I ask.
“How’d you know?”
“It’s one of my favorite dishes.”
He winks. “See, we’re made for each other.” His expression turns serious. “Ali, I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to take my crappy day out on you,” he apologizes.
“It’s okay Bryce, we all have crappy days. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you. I may not be able to give advice, but you can use me as a sounding board.”
He looks at me, amazed, I think. “You’re the treasure every man looks for. This is what I was talking about last night. None of the women I’ve ever gone out with cared if I had a bad day or not. They never wanted to talk to me about my life or my business. Nothing. All they wanted . . .” He shakes his head for a moment. “Looking back, it was a mutual agreement, so to speak.”
I smile. “Bryce, I said I would be a sounding board, but this is not an image I want in my head right now.”
His arms snake around my waist. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just – you. I’ve never been so comfortable around anyone in my life as I am with you.”
My hands touch each side of his face as our mouths come together like two starving people who have found life-giving nourishment. Fierce, pulsing desire sweeps through me, and if I weren’t sitting down, it would have knocked me over.
He releases me with a knowing smile, and walks back around to the kitchen to check on the boiling pasta. My blood is boiling hotter than that water. Am I panting? Calm down, I tell myself, and take a long sip of wine.
“Are we eating at the bar?” I ask.
“I thought you might like to dine over there,” he says, and points a remote control towards an already set table. I watch as the floor-to-ceiling curtains part, revealing a wall of windows overlooking the lights of San Francisco and the Bay.
“It’s even more beautiful at night,” I say admiring the view. His hands rest on my shoulders as he turns me toward him. He doesn’t say anything. Words aren’t needed as our lips do all the talking.
“I want you so much,” he whispers. He pulls back, eyes on fire, then surprises me by saying, “I need to check the chicken to make sure it doesn’t burn.”
Not like the burn I feel now. G-string drenched, pulse racing out of control, libido over-heated.
He asks me to light the candles, then grabs another remote and with a few clicks, music plays in the background from an invisible sound system. He disappears, only to return with another chilled bottle of white wine.
“Dinner is served, Mademoiselle.”
“My compliments to the chef.”
“Thank you,” he says, and raises his glass. “To you, beautiful.” My cheeks flame, and I know I’m blushing.
“Cheers,” I reply. “Did you learn to cook from your Mom or your Dad?”
“I picked up on it here and there. Neither of my parents had time. They both were busy with their jobs.” His tone changes, and there’s a sadness about him. His eyes glaze, like he’s in deep thought about something far away. As quick as it appeared, it’s gone, as he says, “I watched a lot of cooking shows during my down time in high school and college.”
“Well, here’s to the Cooking Channel.” We clink our wine glasses again.
After a decadent dessert of chocolate covered strawberries on top of white mousse, we move to one of the plush sofas to finish our wine and watch, in compatible silence, the panoramic view of nighttime San Francisco. Bryce has his arm around my shoulders and his feet are perched against the coffee table. I snuggle against his side, lost in my thoughts. Everything we’ve done lately has led to this moment. I really want to make love with him, but I’m scared. What if he feels the scars? What if he doesn’t find my body attractive? What if I don’t measure up to his expectations?
Before I can stop the words, I hear myself saying, “It’s getting late. I think I should go.” I push myself up off the sofa and Bryce follows.
He looks stunned and freezes for a moment. “I’ll take you home if you want to go.” His voice betrays his disappointment. “Although, I’d like you to stay.”
Dr. Hunter’s words ring in my head, “There’s no reason you shouldn’t have and enjoy a full sexual relationship. Give him and yourself a chance. You’ll know when the time is right.”
I’ve wanted all of Bryce since that first wonderful kiss. I want to make love with him here, tonight. There’s no turning back.
The doors leading out to the balcony, which extends the length of the room, are open and the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkle in the distance. I welcome the slow, cool breeze because I have that ‘someone turned up the heat’ feeling again, flooding my body with warmth.
“Dance with me?” Bryce holds out his hand. We move in time to the melody of Citizen Cope’s slow seductive “Holdin’ On,” and get lost in the music. He always smells so good. Good enough to eat.
My mind races with the implications of this song, this dance. His lips touch mine in a gentle and patient kiss. “Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer in a breathless whisper, giving him the reassurance he seeks. One hand cups my face, the other rests on the small of my back. With feather-light precision, his thumb moves across my mouth, tracing the outline of my lips. I study his face; his nose, his mouth, every line, as we continue our sensual rhythm to the music.
“Do you want me to continue?” He asks. With a slight nod, his lips part, our breath mingling as he deepens the kiss. It’s deliberate and carnal, but not forceful. Our tongues find each other and the heat from his body arouses my senses and physical appetite. A shiver shoots down my spine, between my legs, to my toes. Every nerve ending in my body is awake and ready.
My pounding heartbeat pumps adrenaline fueling my aching sexual appetite and desire for him. His arms encircle me as he gathers me tightly against his body. My stomach flutters, and with every breath my breasts press against his chest. Words aren’t necessary. Our mouths and tongues caress each other with desperate, passionate need. His erection presses against me, hard and wanting; his dilated pupils hide the color of his beautiful eyes. The lyrics of the song are as if they’re meant for me, telling me to let myself go, and Bryce is pleading with me to do the same.
“Stay with me,” his warm breath and lips against my hair.
“I will,” I answer in a low, soft quivering voice.
He takes my hand, and with music following our every step, leads me up the stairs to his bedroom. My palms feel sweaty but he doesn’t say anything. He steps aside for me to enter. I’m astounded by the size. An entire village could live and sleep in here. Sensing my hesitation, he puts his arm around my waist and walks me past a three sofa sitting area facing a flat screen TV above a see-through fireplace raised high off the floor. I can see his bed on the other side, which also faces the fireplace. I’m nervous -- nervous and anxious.
He guides me toward a two-story wall of windows with the city spread at our feet and the lights on the Golden Gate Bridge twinkling in the distance. “This is one of my favorite views. Do you like it?” I nod. Bryce kisses my temple then says, “I’m glad you’re here, Ali.”
He guides me to the sleeping area where two masculine, comfy-looking chairs sit on either side of a fireplace which also holds a hanging flat-screen TV. The tall king-size bed has a curved headboard and footboard of beautiful burnished wood, with stunning decorative metal rings welded side-by-side on their top vertical edges.
Bryce encircles my waist with his arms, the intense heat from his body radiating into mine. He hugs me against him, my back to his chest as his warm, sweet breath tickles against my ear. His hands skirt down my hips as he runs light, feathery kisses along my temple, down my neck and across my shoulders. On instinct, my body turns into his as he cocoons me in tight embrace. With my breasts pressed against his chest, my aching nipples hard, he captures my bottom lip between his teeth before he kisses me with tender urgency
My desire is so intense, I’ve moved beyond reason. It’s an unknown, but welcome feeling. In the soft lighting of his room, his fingers reach for the zipper to my dress. I come to my senses long enough to whisper huskily, “Let’s turn off the lights.”
In one click of the remote only the twinkling lights of the beautiful city surround the darkness of his room. My dress falls to the floor around my feet, and my bra soon follows. With tender care, he cups my breast, caressing and exploring, while his mouth leaves kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. A light tug of my barrette releases my hair and the red curls tumble past my breasts, landing just above my ribs.
OMDs’ “If You Want It” fills the room, bouncing from corner to corner. With the delicacy of handling a rare flower, he cups my face in his hands and brings his mouth to mine as he walks me backward, toward the bed. I’m nervous and he senses my uneasiness, but this strange new feeling of desire makes me brave. My hands shake as my fingers undo the buttons on his shirt. Soon, it too joins my dress and bra on the floor. Never taking his eyes off mine, he’s quick to discard his pants.