This is a work of creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 50—The Adventure Begins
It is Saturday morning, bright and early on the island of Anguilla. We have a couple of days yet before we completely reset from jet lag, so the entire villa is awake at 6 am. We were so wrung out from the traveling last night. We hadn’t arranged for chef service for dinner on the first night and there was no way that we ladies were cooking after having been traveling for the better part of 12 hours. Our choices were to go to a restaurant or to order in. I was not very excited about ordering in and neither was Gail, but we were too tired to argue.
Little did we know that ordering in on Anguilla is not like ordering Chinese food in the States. There are two restaurants that deliver in Anguilla. Un Amore Cafe is Italian—mostly pizza, calzones, and such for those of us who are missing America already… I wasn’t. The other option was a place called Blanchard’s which seemed to have something from just about every corner of the world.
Now we’re talking!
We had a veritable taste fest of curried chicken salad, grilled Cubano sandwiches (roast pork, ham, Swiss cheese, chipotle mayo, dill pickles in grilled pita bread), lobster rolls, coconut-curry mussels, and blackened Mahi bites. I think we were all thoroughly fed and ready to turn in after that meal. Well, I was anyway, and I slept like a baby!
Chef service starts at 6:30 so I take a shower and don my Calvin Klein sleeveless printed maxi dress in anticipation of what would be on the breakfast menu. At 7:00, Gail and I meet in the great room to discuss what may be on the agenda for the day. I have no idea what Christian has planned and neither does Gail. It’s nice to see her in some of the tropical clothes that we picked for the trip instead of her usual white shirt and some professional bottom—usually a pencil skirt or some slacks—that she wears while on duty at Escala. She’s wearing a strapless yellow and white zigzag maxi dress that not only catches the sun brilliantly, but also compliments her skin tone quite nicely.
We opt to have breakfast on the patio which is really nice since it’s such a beautiful day. Gail and I are giggling like schoolgirls while fawning over each other’s dresses as we proceed to the patio. I notice that Jason is watching his girlfriend from afar… just examining her, it appears. He has a longing look in his eye—I recognize it from when Christian is gazing at me. One can tell that he’s completely smitten with Gail, and I can only imagine the effect that seeing her carefree and beautiful like she is now must be having on him. I wonder if he has told her yet that he’s in love with her? A blind man could see it…
“So, have you and Mr. Grey made any plans for the day?” Gail asks as we sit at the outside dining table waiting for our men and our breakfast.
“I don’t know. I’m sure that he has planned something, but he hasn’t told me yet. Can you believe this?” I say, gesturing to our surroundings and the stunning view of the sea from the patio. “I mean, this is outstanding! I never would have thought I would find myself here… not that I even knew what here was before two days ago,” I laugh.
“You know the bruising on your face is very nearly gone and your lips are completely normal now,” Gail observes.
“Well, it’s that fabulous miracle tea you made,” I exclaim. “I can only hope that one day you’ll give me the recipe… I know that there are some secret ingredients in there.”
“You’re right. And I’ll never reveal my secrets.” She smiles.
“Oh well, I guess that means that I’ll have to keep you around,” I say, and we burst into laughter. “I don’t even pay attention to the bruises anymore, Gail,” I say, turning serious. “There’re just so many bigger things that these seem small in comparison… even before they went down.” I drop my eyes to the table as I remember those pictures of my 15-year-old battered and bruised self. Gail reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Life is short, Ana,” she says. “Every time I look at the news or on the computer and I read that someone died, I just want to grab life by the horns and live to its fullest. When Mr. Jones died all those years ago, I felt like the best years of my life were over. We were so happy, and I loved him so much. Still do, in fact…” A look of nostalgia comes across her face and I’m surprised. Reading my face, she says, “Yes, I know what you must be thinking. How can I have a relationship with Jason if I am still holding a torch for my first husband.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” I say, honestly.
“Douglas was my first love,” she says, sitting back in her chair. “He was supposed to be it for me and I threw my whole self into our relationship… and our marriage. He was wonderful! He was tall and handsome… sweet.” She sighs heavily. “We were going to have a baby. It seems so long ago now.” It’s my turn to squeeze her hand, now.
“It was one of those icy evenings in Seattle. We were driving home from dinner and Douglas hit a patch of ice. I remember spinning and screaming and that was it. I woke up in the hospital. My baby was gone… and so was my Douglas.” I could hear the pain in her voice as she recounted the night she lost her entire family. “I didn’t want to go on. It was bad enough to lose one of them, but both of them… at the same time… it was more than I could bear. I went into a severe depression and my mother had me committed, for my own safety… I would have easily ended it all to be with Doug and my baby.” She sighs. “Anyway, eight months later, I was ready to join the world again, although I lost my ability to have children.”
“Oh, Gail. I’m so sorry,” I say, holding her hand tighter. She nods and smiles a sad smile.
“I don’t think I would have been able to handle it anyway, Ana. Losing my baby took me to the very edge of my sanity. I’m not sure how or if I would or could handle being pregnant again after that. Anyway, I can share darling little Sophie with Taylor, and it takes away a bit of the bite. Everything has a purpose, right?” she says, tucking away some of her blonde hair that has escaped from her ponytail.
“How does Jason deal with… the memory of Doug? You know, living up to a legend can often be the poison pill of a relationship,” I warn.
“Oh, I would never expect him to do that,” she says, waving me off. “Jason understands that Doug will always hold a very special part in my heart, a part that no one will be able to fill. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. He was my first love, my first lover, the father of my child, and a beloved and perfect husband. I never want to forget that, and I never intend to, but I can’t live in that. I will always have love in my heart for Doug, but that’s what my life used to be. It’s not that anymore. My life now is my family and my friends… my sister Angela and her children, Mr. Grey, you… and of course, Jason and Sophie. Doug and my baby were a wonderful part of my past that was ripped away from me all too soon, but you all are my future.”
She’s so well-rounded for what she has been through. I wish half of my patients could find this kind of tranquility. Hell, sometimes I’m even searching for it, especially now.
“How long has it been?” I ask.
“Oh, a long time, dear. Thirteen years. My mom really helped to pull me through that tough time in my life, God rest her soul. We lost her to cancer a few years back, but Angie and I managed to hold it together and not fall completely apart.”
This woman is remarkable. I envy her for having the help of her mother during her rough times. What I would have given for Carla’s love and support while I was suffering.
“It’s a sad story, yet… not,” I say, hoping that I’m accurately portraying the point that I’m trying to make. Apparently, I am because she nods.
“I know, but now look. I have a wonderful new friend, and I’m sitting on the beautiful beach of Anguilla about to have breakfast with people who I’ve come to love very dearly.” We smile at each other before she continues. “My love for Jason is very different from my love for Doug. No one would ever be able to take Doug’s place, and Jason knows that. If he tried to take Doug’s place—tried to make me forget what I had with him—we wouldn’t work, just like I respect the fact that he had a wife before me. Even though they’re divorced, he loved that woman once, and I have to respect that. I have to understand that if anything happens to her, he’s going to be hurt—whether he understands it or accepts it right now or not—and that’s okay. When I look back over my life, I see Doug… and our baby… and what we had… and unfortunately, what I lost—but when I look ahead, I see Jason.” She smiles. That sums it up very nicely.
“He loves you very much,” I say. She blushes.
“Now how would you know that?” she asks sweetly.
“Because when you’re not looking, he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world.” She tilts her head at me.
“Kind of like Mr. Grey looks at you.” My turn to blush.
“Well, that feeling is mutual,” I say, shyly. She chuckles at me.
“I don’t know, Ana. I’ve seen him watch doors when you leave to see when you’re going to come back through them. I’ve never seen him behave that way before,” she says.
“Well, his prior relationships didn’t really allow for that, now did they?” I say with a bit of sarcasm. She looks a little uncomfortable and looks down at the table. I quickly put her out of her misery. “I know. NDA. The question was rhetorical.” I chuckle.
“Thank you!” she sighs. “I like you a lot, but we all know what I can and can’t discuss if I want to stay employed.”
“Yes, I know, and don’t worry. I would never put you in that position,” I say. “We’ve both had pretty bumpy rides. Hell, I guess we all have. I don’t know Jason’s story, but I know that Christian’s start in life was horrendous and my bad luck just seems to be following me around lately. Now your sad story… I just think we all deserve some happiness… and lots of it!”
“Here! Here!” Gail cheers and we laugh again.
“I try very hard to stay focused,” I begin. “You would think with my training—the magnificent Dr. Steele—I would be the most well-adjusted person in the world. However, it’s very true what they say about advice… it’s very easy to give it, but harder to follow it, even your own. Have you ever noticed that some of the most screwed up people in the world can give some of the most sound and solid advice? You often find yourself asking, ‘Why the hell won’t you follow your own advice?’ That’s because it’s very easy to point out what’s wrong in someone else’s life, and even though we’re our own worst critics, it’s still damn near impossible to correct our own imperfections sometimes.” I look out over the beautiful turquoise sea. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that my past demons are coming back to bite me in the ass, what with my obsessive, kidnapping psycho ex-boyfriend and the unwelcome appearance of my crazy ass mother and her crazier ass drunken husband,” I put my hand on my forehead, “and Christian going to Green Valley… right into the belly of the beast.” Gail rubs my arm.
“I guess we’ll all just be screwed up together,” she says with a smile. “None of us are without our demons, dear. I never in a million years thought that Mr. Grey would let someone into his heart or his personal space. Some people are just not molded that way, you know? And from what I saw, he just wasn’t that person, but you blew through here like a breath of fresh air. Now, we’re rearranging the apartment and more people are in my kitchen. We’re having dinner parties and that horrible woman is gone, ugh! I knew something wasn’t right about her from the very start. Do you know how someone walks into the room and you immediately feel queasy?”
“Oh God, yes! The first time I met her, she showed up in this leather or pleather or rubber suit and a pair of thigh-high boots… in the middle of the day, no less… on a Sunday! I couldn’t even imagine going out in public like that, much less in the middle of the day! I guess she was trying to be intimidating or something, but all I could do was laugh…and good Lord, what’s with all the black?” I ask.
“It matches her soul, I guess,” Gail says, and I shake my head. “Whatever you did, I’m just glad that she’s gone! I mean, she couldn’t have been any good for Mr. Grey.” Oh, you have no idea. “I expected a forked tongue to pop out every time she opened her mouth.”
“Well, here’s hoping that we’ve seen the last of her!” I say, just as one of the kitchen staff comes out to the patio.
“Breakfast is just about ready, Ladies. Would you like something to drink?” I know exactly what I want.
“Yes, I would like a Mimosa if you have it,” I say.
“Oh, that’s sounds fabulous!” Gail exclaims. “Can you make a Mimosa?” she asks the beautiful mahogany woman with gorgeous long braids in her hair.
“Yes, ma’am. Coming right up,” she says in a lovely island accent. Gail and I fall silent for a moment after she leaves and in no time at all, she was back with our Mimosas, chilled to perfection with the right mix of champagne and citrus.
“What kind of fruit juice is this?” I ask.
“Orange-tangerine mix with a touch of pineapple,” she says.
“This is delicious!” Gail says.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she responds.
“Oh, please. I’m Ana and this is Gail.”
“Ana, Gail.” With her accent, my name sounds like Ah-nah, and Gail’s name sounds like Gell. I rather like it. “I am Sarah. You let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Gail says as she leaves. Once again, things fall silent between me and Gail for a moment, until she decides to ask me something that I never expected to hear.
“Ana, can I ask you a personal question?” she says, and I nod with an um-hmm. “I can see that you are very fond of Mr. Grey, but do you love him?”
Taylor and I stand just out of sight as we listen to Gail recount the story of the loss of her husband and child. I knew the basics of the story—from her background check and from the bits that she has told me—but now she sits on the patio telling Butterfly the whole tale, details and all. I’m not surprised. Like I said, it’s the Butterfly Effect. I can’t help but feel like we are kind of eavesdropping though.
“Maybe we should give them some privacy,” I say to Taylor.
“I’ve heard the story,” he says a bit curtly, but then he softens. “I sometimes feel I’ll never compare to him. He was her first… everything. I can’t give her children… she can’t have them after the loss of her son. She loves Sophie dearly, but it’s something that I wish I could have given her… shared with her…”
“You want more children, Taylor?” I asked, surprised. He shakes his head.
“Not as such, sir.” He says. “I… just wish it was something… that I could have shared with her.”
I nod. I want children with Ana. We’ve never talked about it and I would be devastated if it turns out that she couldn’t have any. We continue to listen as Gail explains that she has accepted her plight in life and wants her future to be with Taylor. I can see the relief clearly on his face at that statement.
“Something on your mind, Taylor?” I ask. He looks at me like I’m an alien… probably because I’ve never asked him anything about his personal life or about his and Gail’s relationship. “It’s just that you seemed a little surprised and a lot relieved about that last statement.”
“It’s nothing, sir. It’s just like Her Highness says—it’s hard to compete with the perfect memory. It’s good to know that I’m not,” he says.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I say. “Her Highness,” I clarify. He shrugs.
“It comes along with the job. Code names are easier—there are usually no mistakes. This was her idea… have you tried to say ‘no’ to her?”
As a matter of fact, I have. It usually doesn’t work. I look out at our women. They’ve just finished talking about past demons and ghosts and have now moved on to discussing the Pedophile.
“I have to agree with Gail on that one… I’m glad she’s no longer a factor in the big scheme of things,” Taylor says.
“Oh, she’s still a factor, just not like before. She tried to contact me before we left Seattle. She sounds like she’s getting desperate. I really don’t care, but I hate to see what that translates into for her latest victim.” I run my hand through my hair.
“How’s the investigation going?”
“It may have stalled,” I reply. “Every time something happens in my life, she lays off of the kid. I hate to put him through this, but we pretty much have to catch her red-handed to make these charges stick.”
“I know. Those boys are not likely to roll on her,” Taylor says, disgusted. I shake my head.
“We think with our dicks… even if it kills us.” I look at my Butterfly, her beautiful hair blowing in the Anguillan breeze and that print dress falling gracefully on her frame as she drinks her cocktail. She could lead me off a cliff and I would gladly and blindly follow… not the smartest thing, I know, but it’s true.
“I can see that you are very fond of Mr. Grey, but do you love him?”
What? Did Gail just ask her that!? I look over at Taylor, who makes to go to the patio, probably to rescue Gail, but I put my hand out to stop him. I want to see how she answers it… and yes, we’ve moved from kind of eavesdropping to shamelessly eavesdropping! I’m a bit nervous because it takes Butterfly a while to answer the question.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Gail continues, “it’s just that it’s clear to anyone that Mr. Grey was not what one would call personable… until you arrived. He’s a completely different person now. He’s happy and sad and strong and vulnerable and I’ve worked for him for a long time. I’ve come to care for him. I haven’t had anyone to care for all these years but my men… Jason and Mr. Grey. He’s always had a handle on those other women—generic nutchasers and money grabbers including that blonde Bride of Frankenstein and damn the NDA, I want to know if you love him!”
She spit the last part out very quickly almost like she was ashamed to say it but desperately needed to know. Taylor and I exchange a look like we have no idea who this woman is in Gail’s body… which we don’t. Butterfly registers momentary shock, then says the magic words.
“Gail, I love him so much that it scares me.”
I have to cover my mouth to prevent the gasp of surprise from betraying our position.
“I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel like a whole person and half a person at the same time. I feel like I can take on the world, and I also feel like I could fall apart at any second. I feel everything and it’s wonderful and then I feel too much and its weakening and frightening.
“Ever since my last break-up, I’ve been horrifyingly self-sufficient. Edward ripped my heart to shreds, and it was hell putting it back together again. He never could understand that even though I may have still had feelings for him in the beginning, I could never let him near me again. As time progressed, he became the enemy and I just wanted him to leave me alone.” She starts to wring her hands a bit then they go to her forehead again.
“I had learned to be alone and I didn’t even know that’s what I was doing. I didn’t realize it until the gang got together and I was the only stag in the group. Even my father had a girlfriend and I was alone. Edward was pursuing me heavily, and I could have easily gone back to him. I had just decided that I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and he was right there… but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take the chance of subjecting myself to him and his lies again.
“Christian and I agreed to a mutually satisfying relationship… if you know what I mean… and in no time flat it just took off from there. It’s like neither of us had any control over it… or at least I know I didn’t. It’s like a runaway train… going on full power, forging ahead on a track with no idea what direction we’re going in, where we’re going to end up, if the bridge is out, is the tunnel finished, or is there a brick wall at the end of the track.” Her voice begins to crack, and Gail reaches for her hand again.
“This is it for me, Gail,” she says, wiping away a stray tear that has fallen. “I can’t go through this again. I love this man with every cell in my body, and if this doesn’t work out, I’ll never be with another man as long as I live. Since I don’t like women in that way, I guess that means I’ll be alone.”
I’m stunned into silence as Butterfly finishes her cocktail and I realize that she feels the same way about me that I feel about her. I almost lose my balance in the euphoria that I’m feeling right now. I look over at Taylor, who’s just as speechless as I am. What do you say to something like that?
“I’m sorry, Gail. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. That was probably more information than you needed this early in the morning.” She looks out at the water and sighs.
“No, I asked… and pretty forcefully, too. I got my answer,” Gail responds.
“Probably pretty silly and girly, huh?” Butterfly plays with her now empty glass. Gail smiles at her.
“I told you. When I see my future, I see Jason… however he’ll have me. I think that says it all.”
Now, it’s Taylor’s turn to wear that dopey, sappy expression. “I’m going to go get Chuck for breakfast,” he says and turns to make a speedy getaway. I’m going to go join my girl.
I walk out onto the patio and kiss Butterfly on the forehead. “Good morning, ladies.” I greet them both. “What are we having?” Butterfly quickly tries to pull herself together.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey. We’re having Mimosas,” Gail says, finishing hers. If I don’t ask, she’ll know that I know something.
“Are you okay?” I put my arm around her chair. She nods and smiles.
“Gail and I were just getting a little sentimental,” she answers truthfully. I sit next to her and kiss her deeply on her cheek near her ear. Oh, Butterfly, I love you too—more than mere words can say. A few moments later, Taylor and Davenport join us at the breakfast table.
“Well, Sarah says breakfast should be here any minute, so you slow pokes are right on time,” Gail teases. Almost on cue, the kitchen staff begins to bring a gourmet island breakfast to us: Spanish frittata, Nova Scotia smoked salmon and bagels, French bread French toast, buttermilk pancakes, Johnny cakes, fresh fruit, and omelets made to order. Of course, there’s coffee, juice, and more Mimosas.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Gail asks, tucking into her French toast.
“Well, I thought I’d take Butterfly horseback riding and have lunch on the beach. You’re all welcome to come along, but I plan to have her to myself for dinner.” I smile at her and she blushes as she swallows a mouthful of her Spanish frittata.
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Gail says, turning to Taylor. “Chuck, Jason, what do you think?” Taylor shrugs.
“Been a while since I’ve been on a horse. I hope I remember how.” He takes a healthy bite of a smoked salmon bagel. “This is really good,” he says, his voice muffled by the food.
“Hmm, horses, I’m not too sure about that,” Davenport protests while devouring a pile of Johnny cakes.
“Are you afraid of horses, Chuck?” Butterfly says, her voice a little squeaky.
“No, I’m not afraid of them. I just don’t like them… and I don’t think they like me,” he retorts.
“These are some of the gentlest horses in the world,” I affirm. “Babies ride these horses.” Chuck shakes his head.
“I’ll give it a try,” he says, “but if that beast starts acting like a beast, I’m getting off… and you can laugh all you want!” He pours himself another cup of coffee. Butterfly smiles that priceless smile the nearly splits her face in two as she teases her personal security. Part of me wants to be jealous of their relationship. The other part of me is happy that I have someone to keep her safe when I’m not with her—someone that she trusts. I can’t imagine my life without her. I nearly lost my mind when David and Harris had her… wondering what they were doing to her and imagining the worst. I wish I had been the one to take that fucker Harris down. I would have taken great pride in watching the life slip from his worthless eyes for what he put my Butterfly through.
“Christian, did you hear me?” Butterfly’s sweet voice brings me back from my dark daydream.
“I’m sorry, what?” I say, shaking off thoughts of choking the already dead Robert Harris with my bare hands.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowed. I dig in to finish my omelet.
“Yes, I’m fine, baby. Just thinking of things I shouldn’t be,” I say.
“Well, stop it,” she scolds. “We’re on vacation.” Her voice is a little urgent and a tiny bit whiny.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say playfully, finishing my omelet. “Were you saying something else?”
“I was asking should I wear jeans or shorts to go riding on the beach?”
“Probably shorts. The horses like to go into the water,” I respond. She nods and finishes her frittata and fresh fruit.
“Well, I can’t swim just yet with all of this food on my stomach, but I think I’ll lie around the pool anyway. I can assume that we won’t be going horseback riding for at least another four hours,” Butterfly announces, stretching her sexy legs.
“You assume correctly,” I respond.
“Well, in that case, I will see whomever decides to join me at the pool in about 20 minutes.” She stands, leans in and kisses me quickly on the lips before going back inside the villa. I watch as she walks into the great room and disappears up the stairs. She’s so beautiful and graceful, and she loves me so much that it scares her. I don’t want her to be afraid of her love. I want her to embrace it. I have to do everything that I can to make sure that she does.
“Permission to speak freely, sir.” Davenport breaks my train of thought. I turn to him and furrow my brow.
“What?” I say.
“You got it bad,” he says, sipping his coffee. Gail and Taylor snicker at the same time.
“Keep it up. I’ll fire you all,” I say.
“I wish I had a camera to catch your face,” Davenport continues. “She went into the house, sir, not across the country. She has promised that she will reemerge at the pool in 20 minutes. Forgive my candidness, but you looked like somebody just snatched your puppy!”
I hate hate HATE it when my staff sees me in a weakened state.
“Okay, that’s enough free speaking,” I say, flatly.
“Yes, sir,” he says, rising from the table. “But you still got it bad.” That last part was mumbled and I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
“What was that?” I snap.
“Nothing, sir,” he says, continuing into the villa. Smart ass. This is why I like to keep the lines drawn between staff and employer. Butterfly has now blurred all those lines and I can’t complain or blame everyone for feeling so comfortable with her around.
“Well, I think Ana has the right idea about sunning a bit so if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I will go and change as well. Mr. Grey…” Gail nods in my direction, then kisses Taylor on the cheek before going into the villa as well.
“Everybody’s awfully comfortable on this vacation, aren’t they?” I say to Taylor once everyone has gone inside. Immediately getting the thrust of what I’m saying, he responds, “I’ll talk to him, sir.” I finish my coffee and stretch in my seat.
“Don’t bother. We’re on vacation. But when we get back to Seattle…” I look at him.
Butterfly is out by the pool with Gail and Taylor. Davenport has decided to take a nap. I’m in the bedroom, wearing my swim trunks and sitting on the bed looking at the piece that I ordered from Cartier and wondering how she’ll react to it. I have to pick just the right moment to present it to her and, after her conversation with Gail that I wasn’t supposed to hear, I can’t wait to give it to her. I’ve decided that I’ll give it to her today and hope that she’ll be happy with it. I put the box back in the drawer of the nightstand and go down to the pool to join the others.
I sneak up on my beautiful goddess spread out on a chaise wearing the tiniest black tankini and a large straw hat. I lean down so that I can see her eyes under the hat.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, kissing her gently on the lips.
“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” she says softly, with a smile. I sit on the side of her chaise.
“This is very small.” I run my fingers over the frilly edges of the tiny bikini bottoms at the crease of her leg. “Are you okay with it… with your brand?” I gently caress her thigh so that she’s comfortable. She gives me a small smile.
“I thought of that. I wanted to wear it at least once and decided that I would just wear it around the villa… not to the beach,” she responds. I gently stroke her stomach where the bottoms meet her pelvic line, then I circle her navel.
“You look fantastic,” I say, my voice as full of lust as I can get it. She starts to squirm on the chaise.
I lean over her, resting one hand on the chaise to support my weight. I use the other hand to caress her cheek, chin, neck, shoulders, and chest while I softly and sensuously massage her lips and tongue with my own. She lets out a soft moan.
“If Gail and Taylor weren’t out here with us, I’d make love to you right here on this chaise,” I say into her mouth, seductively devouring her sweet, sweet kisses. Her hands travel from my abs up my chest and rest on my shoulders. I shiver involuntarily at her touch.
“Christian, you have to stop that or I’ll never catch any sun,” she says, her weakness and arousal evident in her voice.
“Yes, you will, baby,” I say, still feasting on her luscious mouth and tongue. “I wouldn’t bring you (kiss) to this island paradise (kiss) and not let you tan (kiss, kiss) that delectable body.” I kiss her deeply then run my nose along hers. “Just know that I plan to sex you every chance I get. I can’t help it that you are so irresistible, and I love you so much.”
A small puff of air escapes her pouty lips as she tangles her body around mine. I scoop her into my lap and shamelessly make out with her sitting at the pool on the chaise, wrapping my arms around her body and covering her brand so that she won’t feel subconscious about it. The way that she’s vined around me, her arms clasped around my neck and her hands thrust into my hair as she devours my mouth with hers—I don’t think she gives one good damn about that brand right now!
“Oh, Christian!” she gasps, as our mouths separate, burying her lips in my neck and planting open-mouthed kisses there from my ear to my shoulders.
“Baby… we better stop… or I’m going to make good on my promise and do you right here.” I pant, my eyes closed, trying to talk Greystone out of convincing me to move her bikini bottoms to the side and slide into my happy place. She pulls back and looks at me with deep, carnal blue eyes…
…and that doesn’t help.
“Baby, damn!” I can’t take it anymore. I look around and Taylor and Gail have made a discreet exit. I can’t chance them coming back out to the pool and catching us in flagrante delicto. I stand with her in my arms, her legs wrapped around me, and dash to the side of the house where there’s a large, covered patio. This will have to do. I must have her now.
“Do you care?” I ask, kissing her hungrily and grabbing her ass.
“No,” she breathes, still vined around me, breathing heavily. I sit on the white wicker love seat with her on my lap—Greystone standing at full attention, his head poking through my trunks. She looks down and sees my cock sticking out of my trunks. She rises and moves her bottoms to the side—just like I saw in my head—moves my waistband down and takes Greystone in her hand. She positions me at her opening and very slowly slides her wet pussy over my hard, waiting shaft—a little, then a little more, then a little more until she is wrapped around my entire member. She’s so sexy, so hot. She moans when I have filled her completely.
“Oh, Christian, baby,” she says as she drops her head on my shoulder and slowly begins to grind into me.
“Oh, yes!” I breathe, rocking my hips into her each time she drops her soft, velvety core onto me. “Baby, you are magnificent!” I growl into her neck. We are trying to keep quiet, just in case someone passes by on the beach or one of our staff comes looking for us, but she’s so hot, so wet… I have no idea how I’m going to be silent when I release. I stick my hands into the legs of her bottoms and pull her ass cheeks apart, effectively separating her folds more.
“Uuuuuuuuuugh!” she moans deep in her chest. “Yes, yes, do that, do that!” she whispers, throwing her head back and losing her hat. Shit, she’s pumping me for all I’m worth.
“Ana, shit!” I groan, holding on to that delectable ass while she drops masterfully and viciously on my dick, grinding so that it rubs against all her vaginal walls, then rising so that the head gets long stimulation on the ride out and the ride back in as she drops and starts the torturous process all back over again. “Ah, good damn, Baby that shit is so good,” I breathe. She’s definitely going to unman me any second.
“Back. Sit back,” she whispers as she pushes me back onto the loveseat. She adjusts her knees and her ass and…
“Fuuuuuuck… oh, fuuuuuck. Ana… I-I’m going… fuuck…”
“No, Baby. Not yet… hold it… wait…” she says, her release hiding in her voice. Wait? Is she fucking kidding me? She’s rolling and grinding this tight, sexy flower on my defenseless, rigid cock and she’s telling me to wait!?
“Ana… fuuuck… Ana… I can’t… aahh!” She’s got to be kidding me.
“Yes… yes… yes, you can…” she mewls as her body and hips continue to roll over mine. Hell, hell, hell! This is torture! I damn-near want to safe word! I dig my fingers into the tender meat of her ass, spurring her to push into me harder as her legs start to tremble.
“Ah, yes, baby. Almost… hold on, baby… you can do it…”
Her breathy voice sounds as tortured as I feel. Her insides begin to clamp down on me and I feel that deep, painful burn that comes from holding back my orgasm and that accompanies intense release.
“I can’t… Ana… I can’t… I’m gonna… Ana… I’m com… Ana…”
“Aaaaahh!” she mewls loudly and covers my already open mouth with hers, holding my face against hers so that I can’t move away as she hungrily consumes my lips and mouth.
I whimper like a girl over and over again as I explode viciously, violently, and repeatedly into her eager, hungry core. I sound like a damn canary, but with the way she is grinding into me right now…
SING, MOTHERFUCKER! SING!
I’m completely out of breath when I begin to kiss her wherever I can find skin, claiming ever piece of flesh that I touch.
“Baby, oh God, baby. I love you. You are mine. Only mine.” I say between kisses and breaths.
“Only yours. Always only yours,” she whispers, her eyes closed and trying to find her own breath. I grab her and hold her close to me, nearly squeezing her to death, I know. I rock back and forth with her in my arms, still buried inside her, my head pressed against her chest.
“Oh, Ana, baby, Butterfly. I love you so much.” I feel like my chest will explode. She has to believe me. She has to believe that I love her more than anything, that I’ll give her anything, do anything to have her by my side forever. I can’t find the words to say to her. All I can say is, “I love you so much.”
“Oh, Christian!” She lays her head on mine and I can hear the tears in her voice. Her body shakes with her sobs and I just pull her closer into me.
I know, Butterfly. I know. My heart knows. My soul knows. I know.
I continue to rock her, holding her so close to me that I’m sure she can’t move. When her crying begins to subside, I pull her back enough to kiss the tears from her cheeks.
“Mine.” I say between kisses. “My love. My Butterfly. Mine.” I kiss her face over and over again until her crying stops and she looks at me with beautiful, vulnerable, sapphire eyes. Her words come back to me:
I love him so much that it scares me.
It used to scare me, too, Butterfly, but not anymore… not anymore, because you are the answer. I’m not uncertain anymore because the answer is right here… in your eyes, in your arms, in your kiss, and in your love.
“I will protect you with my life,” I say to her. “You are everything to me.” Her lip starts to tremble again, but instead of crying, she takes my face in her hands again and kisses me—softly and passionately. She’s giving her energy to me and I’m giving her mine. I can feel the exchange and I start to stiffen inside of her again. Neither of us move our lower regions, but I still feel her tightening around me.
“Butterfly,” I whisper.
“Baby,” she responds breathlessly. I don’t know what she’s doing to me, but I can’t move. It feels amazing and I can’t explain what’s going on. I feel it everywhere… everywhere… and we’re not even moving. Oh God, what is this? Her breathing is getting heavy and I swear she is a vise on my penis! Now, I’m losing my breath. We’re breathless… in sync. We sit there like this forever it seems… I don’t know how long… but the feeling is rising in my pelvis… like I’m going to come!
It can’t be! We’re not even moving!
“Aaah!” she mewls. What the hell is happening? She rubs her hands on my back, and I swear the feeling sends chills through me—down to my knees and my legs start to shake.
“Baby!” I moan.
“Christian!” she whimpers, still trying to catch her breath. Anastasia… what’s happening? She starts to whimper with each feral breath and then… the sound starts as a groan, deep in her chest… then a higher-pitched moan… then a cry of pure abandon as she throws her head back and shifts only slightly on my lap—riding out her release? I think? I don’t know. All I know is that shift grabs my dick and pulls and oh good God in heaven!
“Ah! Oh my God!” I don’t recognize my own voice. I can’t keep myself from thrusting just once and my juices spill into her once more. Even as I still, my dick is pulsating with the force of an earthquake bouncing off the sides of her sex.
“Anastasia… oh my God!” I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where my face is. All I know is that this is insane! I’m glad that I’m underneath her and not on top of her because my legs are useless. We both sit there and breathe through this strange occurrence, neither of us quite knowing what to say right now. My face and chest are drenched, and she’s dripping in sweat, both of our hair sticking to our faces, both of us look at each other like strange alien creatures, both of us breathless.
“What… in the world… was that?” she asks incredulously.
“I don’t know… Oh God, I don’t know… I can’t breathe.” This ain’t like the squirt, Baby. I can’t explain this one!
“So that’s… never happened… to you before?” she asks, still trying to catch her breath. I shake my head feverishly.
“Uh-uh,” is all I can grunt. She has some kind of magic vagina or something. I was sure that I had seen it all… done it all… with a woman, anyway—but this!? I have no fucking idea what the hell just happened here! She wasn’t sucking me; she wasn’t fucking me; we weren’t moving or grinding; there were no vibrators involved. Yet that feeling was phenomenal.
“Well, what did you feel, Butterfly? What happened to you?” I’m just as curious about this experience as she is.
“I don’t know really,” she says. “When I kissed you… I just wanted you to know how much I love you. Everywhere our body touched, it was warm and… hot and… where you were inside me… it was unreal! I couldn’t move. It was so… intense and amazing and… I just don’t know what happened!” I could tell she had the same experience I did and had a hell of a time trying to describe it.
“Yah!” I said, unable to find any other words to fit the situation.
“Are you telling me that you had the exact same experience?” she asks, her voice laced with disbelief.
“You have to ask?” I declare. “Did you not feel me come!? Good grief, I couldn’t even curse!” I remember! I remember this orgasm! “Not a fuck, not a shit, not a damn in sight. Just Oh my God!”
A look of realization comes across her face and she bursts into uncontrollable laughter. I mean, she can’t even catch her breath. What the hell is this? I watch her like some psycho escaped from the loony bin and the next thing I know, I’m laughing, too! What the hell am I laughing at? I don’t know, but it’s cathartic! She winces a bit as she rises off of my thoroughly juiced member, but never stops laughing. I tuck Greystone back into my swim trunks and I am now in tears from this ridiculous laughter.
“What exactly is so damn funny?” I choke out between my laughter.
“I don’t know. You tell me!” she cackles. I don’t think either of us is quite clear on what just happened. I don’t know if we ever will be. All we know for sure is that we just shared a rare moment of pleasure and joy and now, we’re basking in the happiness of it. We stop laughing but gaze at each other with true sincere smiles on our faces. Then she kisses me again.
“Thank you, Christian,” she says, still smiling.
“For what?” I ask through my apple-pie grin.
“For loving me,” she responds. I brush her wet hair off her face and kiss her.
“Thank you, Anastasia.”
“For what?” she laughs, coyly.
“For letting me.”
Around noon, we drive the three miles just around the bend to Cove Bay where the Seaside Stables were located. Since the horses are rented by the hour, we get four horses for four hours so that we can ride together a bit and then the couples can spit up for some alone time. Since Butterfly and I had already partaken in some alone time after breakfast, we just want to do some riding and exploring. Davenport’s chicken-shit ass decides against the horseback riding after all and agrees to meet us on the other end of the beach with our picnic lunch.
There is a short orientation when we get to the stables… the rules for riding and how to treat the horses so that the experience is enjoyable for the horse and the rider, that sort of thing. The ride is a combination of a brush trail and a ride along—and in—the water. We are introduced to our horses and Butterfly takes to hers immediately. Butterfly’s horse is Jazz—a beautiful creamy stallion with gray eyes.
I wonder what drew her to that horse?
The moment she starts to bond with the horse, I somehow get a vision of her walking along the water in a beautiful white dress, holding the bottom so that it doesn’t get wet and leading this magnificent equine by the reins… the ocean beside her and a dynamic sky above and behind her…
Don’t ask me where that came from… I have no idea.
Gail takes a liking to the other pale horse, Tango. This horse is gray with a white mane. I can’t help but wonder where that combination of color came from. Taylor and I both take the brown horses—Biscuit and Zemi. They’re fine specimens accept for the fact that one of the stable kitties—yes, stable kitties—is sitting on Biscuit’s back when it’s time to me to ride him. I hate cats—well, maybe not hate them, but I’m not particular for them at all! The only “pussy” I intend to touch is connected to Butterfly’s body, so someone else has to rid my horse of its previous rider.
My cute Dr. Doolittle comes over and lifts the evil-looking gray and white fur ball from off my horse’s butt. The fucker is huge! The damn thing was almost as big as Anastasia. The handler tells us that the cat’s name is Twinkie and its little tabby companion with the same coloring just inside the barn door is Lulu.
Do I really care about these damn cats?
Not that I’m too concerned about the dollar amount per se, but at $100 per hour per horse for the whole afternoon, I’m not particularly interested in felines! When Ana put the cat on the ground, I’m certain that Twinkie noted my distaste… and I would swear that the hideous little beast was snarling at me! Yeah, whatever… beat it, Fuzzy!
I love watching Butterfly. I love watching her in everything she does… the way that she moves, how she interacts with people, the way that she smiles. I love the way that she makes a room shift when she enters it—that all the people around her are affected in some way by her energy. Animals even seem to respond to her in a mysterious manner…
Yes, you too, Fuzzy!
Most of all, I love the way she wears her clothes. She’s wearing a pair of faded pink cut-off denim shorts with a crotchet spaghetti-stringed half blouse that hooks and drapes in the back with one of her straw hats. She has removed whatever shoes that she was wearing since she knows that the horses will be wading. She’s walking away from me towards Jazz and her ass looks fantastic!
Butterfly puts her foot in the stirrup and daintily throws her leg over the horse, gracefully landing in the saddle with every bit of the weight of a pillow. Horses sometimes dance just a bit after you mount them—you know your body signals the horse to move in different directions and in different ways—but not Butterfly’s horse. It just stands there majestically holding my love, not moving one way of the other until she signals it to do so.
Gail has a bit of a harder time mounting Tango. She needs the handler to help her out. You don’t get to do too much horseback riding when you live and work in a penthouse in Seattle. I mount Biscuit and Taylor mounts Zemi and we’re on our way along the few brush trails on the deserted beach. Now, I don’t know what the hell is happening with these animals, but Biscuit and Jazz couldn’t stay away from each other! Butterfly and I can barely control them—they’re all over each other!
“Are you doing that?” I ask Butterfly when Jazz falls in line so close to Biscuit that they’re walking in sync and mine and Butterfly’s legs are nearly touching.
“Nope, that’s not me,” she replies. “I keep pulling her to the right, but she’s just going to wander back over here. I thought they were trained not to walk this closely.”
“Are they mates?” I ask the handler who is riding a bit ahead of us.
“No, they’re not. All the horses get along, but none of them are attached, so to speak. This is strange behavior for them as a matter of fact,” she says. Butterfly shrugs.
“As long as their legs don’t get tangled, we’re fine,” she says. I believe our two steeds have been bitten by the love bug myself. See, Butterfly? You have the same effect on everything.
We spend a little while trekking through the trees and along the trails, taking pictures of the sun as it peeks through the palm leaves. At times, Butterfly seems to be relaxed and enjoying herself—the sunshine, the cool breeze, the smell of the salt water on the beach not far from us. Still, at other times, she seems a million miles away. I want to ask her where she is and what she’s thinking, what ghosts she’s chasing, but I think better of it for now.
Once we come out of the trails, the horses gladly take us for a wonderful dip in the Caribbean Sea. They apparently love the water and will go in nearly up to your seat and wade for a while. This is where Butterfly seems most natural, but Gail nearly panics until she’s sure there’s no danger being in the sea with a horse belly deep. A few minutes later, we’re out of the water and splitting up in different directions. The handler mentions to us that the horses often gallop, trot, or run down the beach and the moment the handler is gone and Taylor and Gail ride off into the afternoon sun, Butterfly’s horse take off in a mean stride down the beach!
What the hell!
“Fuck! ANASTASIA!” I don’t know if she’s doing it or the horse is out of control. She’s not turning around of even acknowledging that I’m calling to her.
“Shit!” I say as Biscuit and I take off full speed behind her and Jazz. Damn, that horse can fucking move! Then again, it’s probably only carrying 110 pounds on its back, if that much. The closer I get to her, I realize that she has the horse under control. So, why didn’t she respond to me when I called her? Why did she just take off flying up the beach without me? After her little afternoon ride which only lasted a few minutes, she signals Jazz to slow to a walk and then stop. I bring Biscuit up next to them.
“Do you want to tell me what that was all about?” I ask, perturbed. Her expression is unreadable. I can’t tell what’s going through her mind at all. “What’s wrong, Anastasia?” Her expression now looks a little crestfallen.
“I just wanted to ride,” she answers softly, a little unsure.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me that? You just took off… I thought your horse was out of control!” I say. She just smooths her horse’s mane, not making eye contact with me. I run my hand through my hair. “Could you please just not do that again? You could have been killed. You scared me to death!” I say, still flustered but I don’t want to fight about it. She just nods, still not making eye contact with me. She dismounts her horse and walks along the water until she gets to some rocks. She sits down, keeping Jazz’s reins in her hand. Something is on her mind. I don’t want to push her, but I can’t help her if she doesn’t let me in. I dismount Biscuit and sit next to her on the rocks, taking her hand in mine.
“Butterfly, please tell me what’s wrong,” I beseech her, tracing circles on her hands. She sighs.
“Well, this isn’t how I thought this would go.” She says. Huh? How she thought what would go?
“Care to elaborate?” I ask, bemused. Her shoulders fall.
“I’m nervous,” she admits. Okay, now I’m really lost.
“What are you nervous about?” I ask, my voice controlled and even. She sighs again and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a bundle of yellowing tissue paper. What the hell is this?
“Just… here.” She hands me the wad of tissue; her voice is a bit tortured. I take the wad from her and begin to unwrap it. Inside there is a small wooden box—it looks like mahogany, but I’m not sure. It’s about four inches long and two inches wide with a slide top on it made of five different color woods assembled in an Aztec-like design. I know the box is hand-made. I look up at Butterfly and she just stares at the box, clearly a bundle of nerves. I open the box to reveal a necklace, made of some kind of silvery-black metal. It’s a heavy rope chain… and a key. The key is made from the same metal as the chain. It looks like an antique skeleton key. I have no idea what it’s made of… but it’s beautiful! I look to Butterfly for an explanation.
“When I bought this piece, I was drawn to it,” she begins. “I bought it from a Japanese vendor at the Marketplace. She’s still down there, too… the same place I got the Butterfly chopsticks. I had very little savings and it cost everything that I had. I knew when I bought it that it wasn’t for me. I knew that it was for the man that I loved… the man who would hold my heart. I kept wanting to give it to Edward, because I thought it was him but at the risk of sounding crazy, the necklace wasn’t having it. I don’t believe it’s witchcraft or black magic or anything like that, but I’m telling you that at the age of 19 this piece spoke to me.
“So, I spent my entire savings and I bought it. Both Al and Val thought I had lost my mind… but knowing why I purchased it, they were even more shocked to see that Edward never wore it. At first, I thought that I was insane or something—I mean, a necklace speaking to you… sounds a little cuckoo… especially since when I got the necklace home and put it in my jewelry box, it was silent.”
She looks out over the sea like she’s searching for the next words that she should be saying. I could tell that she hadn’t planned this out any more than I planned out the Cartier box that I’ve been carrying around all day since we left the villa.
“My dorm was broken into three times and my first apartment was broken into twice. I didn’t have anything of much value… all my jewelry was costume. Each time they broke in, they cleaned out my jewelry boxes… I mean, really cheap tin shit. I don’t think I owned diamonds—even very, very small ones—until well after I finished my internship, and I couldn’t afford gold. In terms of cost, the most valuable thing in the box was this necklace… and they left it every time. Once, they took the whole box and left the necklace on my desk.
“About a week or so ago, I was feeling the pull again, but I didn’t know what it was. So, I waited… and then I was kidnapped.” She pauses and sighs. “Once I was rescued, the pull came back, but I still didn’t know what it was. Then it occurred to me.” She turns and looks at the necklace still lying in the slide box. “This is the first time since I had to put the necklace in a new jewelry box that I’ve touched it. I sent Al to bring it to me and he felt nothing. I want you to have this… but I can’t just give it to you. You have to accept it. In accepting it, you accept my love, my heart, my flaws… all of me. And here’s the thing. It’s meant for life, but if for some reason we don’t make it, it’s still meant for you… because I will never love anyone the way that I love you.”
I swear on everything that I hold sacred that the heavens open, and I hear celestial trumpets and choirs serenading this moment. I have never had anyone make me feel like my chest would literally burst wide open and my heart would jump out and land in her lap declaring that it had found its new home until this woman. I am speechless. I look from this exquisitely detailed key in a metal I have never seen before and couldn’t identify back to Butterfly’s expectant blue eyes.
“You’re giving this to me?” I say, my voice hopeful and incredulous. After that entire speech, I need her to say it again.
“Yes, Christian. I’m giving it to you… if you’ll accept it.” Her nerves have returned and I can hear the tremble in her voice. I pull the chain from its handmade box and examine it more closely. The moment I touch it—feel the metal on my fingers—I know that it, like Butterfly, is mine! I hand the necklace to Butterfly and turn away from her.
“Will you put it on me, please?” I ask, needing her to put it next to my skin. A few moments later, I see the key appear on my chest and, after a few moments of adjusting, rest there like it had truly found its home. I quickly reach around and pull her into my lap, kissing her deeply. She whimpers from the surprise and then from the passion. I slowly pull my mouth away from hers, our faces only breaths apart. She’s lying in my arms, her head nestled in my elbow looking up at me… breathless.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she breathes. I don’t want to let her go and I don’t want to steal her thunder, but if I wait another moment, I’m afraid it’ll cheapen the sentiment behind her gift and mine. She’ll think I only bought it because she bought me something. I need her to know how I feel—that I feel the same way that she does, and that I have felt this way all along. I look up at Biscuit and Jazz, and they’re quietly nuzzling one another. Go figure.
It’s the Butterfly Effect.
I sit her up, pulling her further into my lap. “I didn’t have a plan for this, I was kind of playing it by ear.” Now it’s my turn to be nervous. I reach into my pocket and pull out the Cartier box. I can feel her heart racing through her thighs!
“I know that we haven’t known each other long, and that asking you to marry me right now would be utterly ludicrous since we still really need to get to know each other better. Having said that, I love you, Anastasia. I don’t see anybody else in this place—your place—but you. Until that time that we decide we want to take that next step and make this legal, I’ll wear your necklace to symbolize that I belong to you. Will you wear my promise ring to symbolize that you belong to me?” I open the Cartier box to reveal a diamond encrusted platinum ring in the shape of—you guess it—a butterfly.
I swear, she took in enough air to suck in the ozone layer!
“Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!” she squeals like a little girl, her eyes filling with tears and her face nearly split in two by a full 32-tooth smile.
“Is that a yes? You’ll wear my ring?” I ask with an expectant chuckle.
“Are you kidding!?” she squeals again as she thrusts her left hand in my face.
“It’s a promise ring. I don’t know if you are supposed to wear it on your ring finger,” I say.
“It’s my ring, right?” she asks.
“Of course, it is!” I respond. She sticks her left hand out with her ring finger separate and looked at me expectantly. I chuckle as I slip the ring on her finger, a perfect fit and right where it’s supposed to be. She admires her latest piece of jewelry and sighs heavily before putting her hand on my cheek and kissing me gently.
“Thank you,” she says, her eyes closed and her forehead leaning against mine. I feel that current that always passes between us, wrapping around us and pulling us closer together.
“You’re welcome, Butterfly,” I say, softly, kissing her cheek in front of her ear while she fingers the key around my neck.
“My man,” she says softly, laying her head on my shoulder and nuzzling into my neck.
“Yes, yours, always.” I respond. I caress the hand wearing my ring before I tangle my fingers in hers.
“My woman,” I breathe, kissing her ring finger, then bringing our entwined hands to my chest.
“Only yours,” she whispers. I gaze into the eyes of this woman who has so completely captured my heart and soul. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. My world is hers; my fortune is hers; my body is hers; my life is hers. She holds the key to my happiness and my very existence, which is ironic since she just presented me with a key. I will wear it forever—to always remind me of the precious gift that I have in this woman, even when we are apart. She is my heart’s song and my soul’s melody—the remaining notes that connect the two to complete my life’s symphony.
To say that I love her doesn’t cover what I feel at this moment. To say that she’s my breath and my soul sounds too cliché. To say that she completes me sounds too common—but these things are all true. She’s the tether that keeps me from floating away into nothingness—delicate as a hair yet strong as iron. She makes me feel, want, need, cry, hope… love. Before her, I was nothing. Without her… I’m even less. I look down at her and get lost in those ocean blue eyes, indulging once more in her welcoming kiss as we wrap ourselves around one another, our skin being caressed by a warm afternoon sea breeze.
A/N: In flagrante delicto – It’s Latin and it translates into “in blazing offense,” but it has come to just mean “caught in the act” and is usually referred to catching someone mid-stroke.
That “orgasm” moment happened to me many, many years ago which I am still unable to explain. This was the best explanation I could give. Has anyone else ever had this experience? Please share if you have! I would love to hear it. Mine was so long ago that my partner at the time could only exclaim “Fahrvergnügen!” I know it’s ridiculous, but at the time, Volkswagen’s motto was Fahrvergnügen, which supposedly meant “Driving Pleasure.” And right after we came, that’s the first thing that came out of his mouth because we couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened. We both laughed hysterically, and I never looked at Volkswagens the same. Just another look into my twisted life.
Christian never asked her, but FYI, that necklace cost Ana $800 in 2005 when she was 19. Nobody knows exactly what the alloy is.
Make sure you check out the Anguilla trip board at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-the-trip-to-anquilla/ There are lots of links there to take you to the islands with our couple!
You can also see who I envision as MY characters in PAGING DR. STEELE (not FSOG-PAGING DR STEELE) onhttp://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-characters/.
You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.