Lessons From a Younger Lover (12 page)

Gwen mirrored Ransom's cross-armed stance. “Why?”

“Is that the kind of response you expect from your students? I'm the teacher right now. Come here.”

Gwen's heart pounded as she forced herself to obey his command.
I'm not scared of this boy
, she lied.
I'm almost old enough to be his mother.

“Now, turn around,” he said once she stood before him.

She did as instructed. It seemed an eternity passed where once again silence, and the bayou sounds of Wynton Marsalis, pulsated through the room. Then she felt his fingers, at once both strong and pliable, grasp the sides of her neck. He applied pressure with one hand. With the other, he clasped her upper arm, gently yet firmly. With her locked in place he massaged the nape of her neck, and her scalp just above it. Gwen dropped her head, a strange calmness enveloping her, even as she felt her muscles further relax.

“The gentle sex,” Ransom said softly, “holds much of their tension in this area of their body. You're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Gwen.”

He stepped closer, placed both his hands on her shoulders, and massaged between the blades and the tops of her arms. “You've been keeping worry and frustration inside you. It's not healthy.”

He ran a strong finger down the middle of her spine. Gwen shivered. “Just as I figured,” Ransom mumbled to himself.

“What?” Gwen whispered, suppressing a moan. Ransom's fingers were like magic, melting the day's stress away.

“You're full of sexual tension as well,” Ransom concluded matter-of-factly. He ran a finger down her spine again, harder this time, even as he stepped closer and braced her with a hand on her stomach.

This time Gwen did moan. And move, fast. “Thanks for helping me relax, but I've got to go,” she said, rushing the words together as she reached for her purse. Gwen's va-jay-jay was throbbing, even as wetness covered her thong underwear. She hoped the desire didn't show on her face.

“I'm not running away,” she continued, running for the door. “It's just that I promised my mother I'd visit her early in the morning.”

“That's cool,” Ransom said, knowing what his touch had done to her. His Iroquois mentors, friends of his father, had educated him well in the ways of a woman's body. And how to take the tension away…from everywhere. “But give me a hug before you go.” He stepped in front of her as they reached the door, barring her escape.

“Ransom, I can't get involved with the parent of a student.”

“Who said anything about getting involved? I just asked for a hug, that's all.”

“Fine,” Gwen said, stepping into his open arms.
Just a quick one. I won't even let our bodies touch.

Of course, Ransom had other plans. He enveloped her fully, bending down to place his head in the crook of her neck. His hair smelled as fresh as sunshine and was soft and warm against her face. His lips nuzzled her neck, and then came around to claim her mouth in a kiss that seared her senses. He pulled her closer, thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and lavished her with a tenderness that sparked intense desire. Even as she thought not to, she pressed herself against his hard, lean frame. Her lower body developed a mind of its own and began a sensual grinding against his bulging manhood. Ransom cupped Gwen's butt and pressed her against his hardness. His tongue plunged deeper; Gwen swirled her tongue around his, mimicking her lower body. Ransom lifted her off the floor, pinned her against the wall, and increased his assault. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He placed a hand underneath her top. The flimsy camisole offered little resistance as he grabbed a nipple and expertly brought it to a hardened peak. He lifted her higher, so that his mouth could replace his fingers. He suckled, licked, nipped at her now exposed flesh. The hard thick shaft that was now centered between her folds, separated only by cloth and waning constraint, confirmed what Gwen had wondered about…. Ransom was all that and a bag of whatever…supersized.

Suddenly, she didn't care anymore. Not about her reputation as a schoolteacher, her marital status, her self-made promise not to get romantically involved with any Sienna citizen. After months of abstinence she was on fire, and it felt like the man in front of her had more than enough hose to douse her flame. Ransom was over twenty-one after all; she might be rocking the cradle but she wasn't robbing it.

Her pants and his jeans was too much material between them. She wanted to feel him, hard and heavy, between her legs, inside her. She buried her hands in the hair she'd longed to touch and placed a flurry of kisses on his brow, nose, and lips. She looked into already black eyes further darkened with desire, and knew that soon she would see him naked. She was going to do it—throw caution to the wind and make love to this amazing, gorgeous man.

“Daddy, where are you?” A groggy young voice pierced their haze of desire. “Daddy?”

Ransom stepped back quickly, easing Gwen to the floor as he did so. “I'm right here, Princess,” he called out. “Don't move,” he whispered to Gwen, and then walked down the hall in the opposite direction of the living room, obviously to where the bedrooms were located. “Are you feeling better?” Gwen heard him ask his daughter.

She didn't wait to hear the answer. She gingerly opened the front door and stepped outside, forcing wobbly legs toward her car parked at the curb. Once inside, she struggled to catch her breath and still her shaking insides. A myriad of emotions warred inside her. Anger that she'd lost control and that that loss of control had been interrupted. Relief that what had almost happened hadn't occurred. Sadness that what had almost happened hadn't occurred. Gwen placed her key in the ignition, started the car, and drove slowly down the street. Her mind was in a daze even as her body still protested the sudden turn of events. She turned first one corner and then another, and steered onto the on-ramp, the highway, and the other side of town.

 

Carol watched Gwen's taillights until she'd turned the corner. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and palmed her cell phone in the other hand. Her instincts had been spot on: Gwen was the caller who'd interrupted her potential rendezvous with her daughter's best friend's father. A piece of her well-conceived plan sat in the seat beside her: a double order of chicken-vegetable soup from the local restaurant, a loaf of French bread, and a nice bottle of Bordeaux. This was a far cry from the fast-food takeout she normally purchased. A burger and fries kind of girl, she had reached beyond her comfort zone and her budget to purchase what she felt would make Isis feel better and impress the child's father as well. Ransom was always working out and talking about eating healthy. And wasn't chicken soup the end-all-be-all cure?

This afternoon she'd thought it, but now she knew it. Gwen Smith was after what Carol had already claimed as hers. It was time for a good old reputation-ruining Sienna scandal—one that would hopefully run this unexpected competition right out of town. Carol had two people in mind as she reached for the phone. She stared at the house she longed to call home, as she waited for her call to be answered. When it was, she wasted no time with pleasantries.

“That bitch just left.”

Joanna rolled away from Adam to the other side of his bed. “Who? What are you talking about?” she whispered.

“Gwen, that's who! That whore was at his house. She just left.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I'm at his house right now, saw her with my own eyes walk out of his house like she owned it and then drive away in her raggedy-ass car.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The question is what are
we
going to do?”

“We?”

“Yeah…you and me.”

Joanna glanced at Adam as he turned over. She crept out of bed, went into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Carol's temper increased along with her volume. “Joanna, you there? Hello?”

“Calm down, Carol. I'm over at Adam's. He's asleep so I came into the bathroom. Now, what's this ‘we' business?”

“Oh, please, you don't know? She's screwing Adam, too.” Carol knew how to push Joanna's buttons. It didn't hurt that Joanna looked up to Carol, five years older than Joanna, as the big sister she never had.

“No, she isn't.” Joanna spoke what she hoped more than what she knew for sure.

“Not yet. But as soon as I get her out of Ransom's bed, where do you think she'll run?”

Silence.

“Exactly, to her boss. Slim pickings in this town, for both jobs and men. Don't think she'll hesitate because they're brothers. Remember, she and Adam grew up together. He probably already had her years ago. It's supposed to be me and Ransom, you and Adam. She's the fifth wheel who needs to roll out of town. Don't forget how you saw her flirting with Adam in the gym. She's stacking her safe cards up, Joanna, and one of them is your man!”

“But how do we get her to leave?”

“I don't know…yet.”

Joanna ended the call, returned to the bedroom, placed her cell back on the charger, and snuggled up against Adam's back.

“Who was that?” Adam asked.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. But since I did…” Joanna reached over to palm Adam's flaccid manhood.

“Who was it?” Adam repeated brusquely. “Better not be some other nucka calling here.” He squirmed under Joanna's ministrations, flipped onto his back to give her easier access.

“No, it was Carol.”

“What did she want?”

“Just to talk. She's upset.”

“About what?”

Thinking the news might work to her advantage where keeping Adam exclusive was concerned, she decided to share. “About Ransom—she saw Gwen leaving his house.”

“When, today?”

“No, just now.”

Adam swatted Joanna's hand away from his burgeoning erection and sat up. “What? At this time of night?”

“You didn't know they were screwing?”

“Hell, no!”

“Well, what do you care, Adam? As long as she does her job. Unless you're wanting little Miss Chicago for yourself. Is that it?”

That was it exactly, but Adam's pride wouldn't allow him to acknowledge it. “Been there, done that,” he lied. “Little brother can have my leftovers. I prefer this plump, rare steak I've got right here.” He grabbed Joanna's butt cheek and jiggled it playfully. “Now get on down there and take care of business.”

Joanna scooted down toward Adam's rod and began to lick it. “You're not mad at me, are you? For talking to Carol, waking you up?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” He asked the question, even as placing his penis in her mouth cut off her ability to answer.

I could care less what you bitches talk about,
he thought, as he began gyrating his hips in time with Joanna's swirling tongue. Even so, the pulsations in his lower head couldn't stop the thoughts running through his upper head: Gwen had denied him a taste, but was letting Ransom hit it on the regular. Knowing this didn't make Adam mad, it made him livid. He rolled over on Joanna and thrust into her swiftly, repeatedly, imagining what would happen soon…imagining the person he pounded was Gwen.

“I won't take no for an answer.” Ransom was firm, but a smile could also be detected in his voice. “You know you liked it, and you know you're sorry we were interrupted.”

Gwen laughed, feeling younger and freer than she had in months. “Yeah, I liked it. And so what if I did? I'm just glad Isis is better. You did say that's why you called, to give me an update.”

“Okay, I lied. I called because I can still taste the chocolate from your nipples and I'd like to taste more…from other areas of your anatomy.”

Gwen flushed in spite of herself. She and Joe had never been adventurous sexually. The few times they'd tried oral sex, it hadn't worked out. Joe didn't like to put his tongue “way down there,” and Gwen wasn't exactly turned on by his perpetually semisoft erection. The experience wasn't the way it looked in the porno movie they'd rented as a turn-on. Not at all.

“What time should I pick you up?”

“Huh?”

“Girl, quit daydreaming about what's to come. I said I'm kidnapping you and taking you to LA, no exceptions, no excuses. Now what time can I pick you up?”

“I wouldn't mind spending time with you, Ransom, but there's something you should know.”

“Please, not that fake marriage nonsense again.”

“Until the eighteenth of October, my marriage is very real, even though my husband and I are no longer together. Now, I know it may seem odd, or even old-fashioned to you, but until I am legally divorced, I intend to honor my marriage vows. I cannot be intimate with another man.”

“Enough, already. I respect your blah, blah, blah. Now pack something sexy to sleep in because we won't be coming back to Sienna tonight. Notice I said sleep, not have sex in. As much as you want me, and as much as it will pain you when I actually refuse to do what you'll beg for later, I am going to honor your honor, and respect the marriage vow your man threw in your face.”

Three hours later, Gwen was in Ransom's Porsche, zooming down the highway toward Los Angeles and their nonsexual rendezvous. Yet even now, with the outline of Sienna's skyline still visible in the rearview mirror, Gwen began to second-guess her earlier stance. Why had she put up Joe as a wall of defense? Their marriage was over, had been for months. Did she really think it cheating to be with another man when Joe was living with Mitzi right now? Gwen snuck a glance at Ransom, bobbing his head to the beat of Angélique Kidjo, one of many artists on his iPod whose sound he described as world beat. His hair was like that of a stallion, swaying in the breeze of the open window. His eyes were hidden behind dark shades, but his prominent cheekbones and wonderworking lips were fully visible. A squiggly feeling in her heat caused Gwen to look away. Now, with him here beside her, she could think of no logical reason why absolutely ravishing this man was not in order…no reason at all. Her mind tussled with what her body desired for several moments, until the sports car's digital speedometer numbers continued to climb.

“Do you always drive like you're in the Indy Five Hundred?” Gwen yelled over the sound of stereo drums and whistling wind.

“What?”

“Slow down!”

Ransom laughed, turned down the sound, and eased off the gas. The boisterous sounds of Angélique segued into Earth Wind and Fire and the Emotions, who encouraged the listener to dance in boogie wonderland. Ransom sang along.

“You actually know the words,” Gwen stated incredulously.

“I own the music. Why are you so surprised?”

“You're too young to know old school.”

“Age is just a number, Butterfly, and good music is timeless. EWF is one of my favorite groups.”

“But how do you know about them?”

“My mom mostly. I grew up hearing her play music from the sixties, seventies, and eighties. My dad loves jazz, world beat, and of course the sound of the Natives. I like all of that, plus hip-hop, techno, and I'm not beyond knowing a Disney lyric or two…. I have a six-year-old, after all. And then there are my country favorites.”

“You do
not
like country music!”

Ransom pushed a few buttons on his iPod. Soon the sounds of Tim McGraw spilled from the speakers. Gwen laughed as she joined him on the refrain. Something about this man beside her made her want to live life to the fullest. She turned to stare at him, seeing him anew. “Who are you?”

Ransom answered without missing a beat. “Your dream come true.”

Ransom and Gwen continued to learn about each other during the two-hour trip into the city. Gwen shared her experience of growing up in what was then a much smaller Sienna, her not-so-close relationship with Adam, her ten-year marriage interrupted by Mitzi and a midlife crisis, and why teaching remained her first love. Ransom talked about his Native heritage, wild teenaged years, brief modeling stint, construction company, his hot and cold relationship with Adam, and how his life changed once Isis arrived.

“Even with the sacrifices, she's the best thing that ever happened to me,” he concluded as he exited off the highway toward Universal Studios. “Probably kept me from doing a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have been doing anyway. But I never was one for much foolishness. Got that from my dad. Growing up, I'd rather hang out with him and my mentors than with boys my own age. The Iroquois brethren call me an old soul.”

Gwen looked down at the vibrating cell phone that had interrupted her response to Ransom's statement. Joe. What did he want now?

“You're not going to get that? Must be your ex.”

Gwen frowned at the accuracy of Ransom's offhand comment. “What are you, a psychic or something? As a matter of fact, it is my ex.”

“I was taught to trust my intuition from an early age, and yes, some of the elders say I have the gift.” Ransom shrugged. “I don't make a big deal of it though, just pay attention when I feel Spirit talking.”

Gwen was silent. It was amazing how a man almost half her age seemed to have wisdom beyond her years. While her mother had been a staunch Methodist most of her life, Gwen had left organized religion shortly after high school graduation. She still believed in God, just hadn't been a regular churchgoer, or a communicator with “Spirit,” as far as she knew. Somehow the “Now I lay me down to sleep” prayer she'd recited by rote as a child didn't seem to count.

Her phone buzzed again. This time she answered. “Hey, Tay, what's up?”

“That's what I want to know. I called your mom's house last night. You didn't get my message?”

“I did, but it was late.”

“Uh-huh. So was it Adam or Ransom?”

Gwen pressed the phone closer to her ear, hoping to muffle the probes of her loudmouthed friend. She only hoped Ransom's “Spirit” would also keep the convo on the down low.

“I'm in LA right now,” she answered. “We're on our way to Universal Studios.”

Chantay immediately got the unspoken message and lowered her voice. “Oh, so you can't talk right now.”

“Right.”

“Are you with Adam?”

“No, I don't think I'll be here long enough to stop by your house.”

“Oh, so it must be Ransom. Girl, you know you should have called a sistah. Derek is coming over later. We could have double-dated and checked each other's man out.”

“I don't know about all that, Chantay. But I will give you a call when I get back home.”

“You'd better.”

“Your girlfriend checking up on you?” Ransom asked, when Gwen ended the call.

“Right again,” Gwen admitted. “I see I need to be careful with you—reading people's minds and all.”

“I'm harmless, I assure you,” Ransom said. He pulled into one of the long lines at the theme park and casually placed a hand on Gwen's thigh as the cars slowly moved forward toward a parking area.

Several hours later, Ransom and Gwen sat at a beachside restaurant, munching on popcorn shrimp appetizers as they waited for their main courses to arrive. Their time at the amusement park had been wonderful. It had been years, more than a decade, since Gwen had ridden a roller coaster. But Ransom had insisted, and before long he and Gwen were flinging their hands high in the air, with Gwen screaming as the Jurassic Park ride dipped, turned, and plunged through a spray of water before stopping. After disembarking, they fed each other funnel cake and held hands like teenagers. It felt right to have Ransom beside her, Gwen thought. Even the envious stares from women half her age couldn't dim her joy or shake her confidence. Their conversation on the way to LA had erased the years between them: their common love of seafood, good music, Dave Chappelle reruns, and Isis bonded them, not to mention that he seemed genuinely concerned about her mother, who was continually improving. By the time Gwen finished her appetizer, she was not only looking forward to her crab leg entrée, but to dessert as well…and not necessarily something on the restaurant menu.

Gwen's phone rang again. She frowned as she recognized Tay's number. “Hey, girl, what's up?”

“You and Ransom are coming over.”

“I told you we're—”

“Look, heifa, I don't care what you told me. I'm telling you that you and Ransom are going to come over to have a drink with me and Derek. I need to check this brothah out. I'm not taking no for an answer and you know you don't want me to get ugly.”

“I think it's too late for that.”

“Oh, no you didn't.”

“Uh, yes I did. Hold on a minute.” Gwen looked at Ransom. “It's my best friend, Chantay. She lives not far from here and insists we come over for a drink.”

Ransom shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

“We'll be there within the hour.”

 

“Why hello, Gwen.” Chantay's voice was the epitome of innocence. “Glad you two could make it.”

“Yeah, right,” Gwen answered as she hugged her friend. “Ransom knows turning down your invite was not an option.”

“Damn skippie, now let me hug this hunk of fine standing behind you.” She playfully pushed Gwen out of the way and stood before Ransom. “You are gorgeous,” she said, before hugging him briefly. “I'm Chantay, Gwen's
best
friend.”

“Ransom, nice to meet you.”

“And this is Derek, my Mr. Fine.”

The men shook hands and went into the living room, as Chantay had directed. She and Gwen went into the kitchen.

“Girl,” Chantay whispered as soon as they turned the corner, “you didn't tell me the brothah was
that
fine. I mean you said he was fine but that boy is fa-eye-ine. Ooh, I'm so mad at you!”

“Why?”

“Something that fine and you haven't fucked him already. What is
wrong
with you, girl?”

“Derek is cute,” Gwen said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, cute. Not fine. And I've already let him hit it. And it was good too.”

“The glasses are in here, right?”

“Whatever, Gwen. You better call me the moment you're alone. We need to talk!”

Gwen and Ransom stayed at Chantay's for just over an hour, sharing wine, conversation, and lots of laughter. When Derek suggested they take the party to a club not far from them, Ransom declined.

“Thanks, man, but Gwen and I have had a long day. I think we'll head to the hotel now.”

Chantay's eyebrows raised in question. Gwen shot her a look that dared her to comment.

“Well, don't let us stop you from getting your girl to bed. I mean, you know, with your full day and all, I know she's probably
exhausted
.” Chantay's comment was followed with an exaggerated wink.

“Don't pay attention to her, Ransom,” Gwen said calmly. “She can't help but babble. Her mama dropped her on her head when she was a baby.”