Jamaican Heat | Updated DRAFT (Update July 2012)

Jamaican Heat

(Updated  jULY 2012) - Unfinished DRAFT by William DeSouza / (c)2012
RATED 'M' FOR MATURE (SEXUAL CONTENT AND LANGUAGE)

Please Note: This is a rough draft only and there are grammatical and other errors that will not be in the final copy... So please do not email me and point out all the mistakes (I know where they are). FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOMED HOWEVVER .....

The warm Caribbean breeze flowed down the Blue Mountain range into Kingston bringing with it the sweet odors of banana, sugar cane and mango. The gentle winds of the tiny tropical island felt like a warm blanket as it wrapped around me. The leaves of the mango trees in the yard bristled with each gust as if in anticipation of the next encounter between secret lovers.


I looked up toward the mountain and could see thin white wisps of clouds flow past the peek, traveling toward the ocean and parts unknown. I was content to sit here forever and let life unfold in front of me, content enough that I was only a watcher, not getting involved with the day to day turmoil that lay outside of my control.

As I sat on the veranda, friends and family mixed and mingled around me, catching up on the latest news, and of course the latest gossip. The women showed off their latest frocks and the men, well, they did what men did best in social situations. They found a quiet out of the way place and played games.

The dominos slamming onto the wooden card table startled me as Brian exclaimed in joyous triumph, "Beat dat ya dog ya!" A boyish grin crossed his lips, his Jamaican accent was thick with the patois slang of the tiny Caribbean island.

"Ya workin it ard misa Brian. Ya need not worry bout ya winnings though," replied Trevor, slamming his double sixes down and standing up with his hands raised in victory.

The table reverberated with the play and laughter boomed from everyone present.

I enjoyed watching these grown men behave and play like boys, as if embracing their youth for the first time. They were family and strangers at the same time and I adored them. There was a deep sense of familiarity about their faces, their voices and this place. At the same time I felt as though I was an interloper as I watched with a kind of voyeuristic pleasure.

Truth be told, I was more the stranger these days. These hot blistering days where only the tourists ventured out in Kingston under the blazing mid-day sun, not knowing any better.

I may have been born on the island but I left Jamaica soon after I married Jeffery. It’s been almost six years since I was last here.

Right out of University and in my very first job, I met Jeffery through a mutual friend. I used to read about love in romance novels, but only when I was with him did I understand what love really was. He was in the Canadian Air Force working at the embassy here and being from Canada, Jeffery didn’t know much about the island, but that just gave me the excuse to spend time with him playing tour guide. It wasn’t long after that we decided to marry. I was nineteen and full of hope.

Six years ago and a lifetime away, we left Kingston and the blissful tropical breeze of Jamaica to the frigid cold and snow of Northern Ontario. Jeffery’s home was Sturgeon Falls and it was as far from Jamaica as the sun is from the Earth.

Sturgeon is a tiny town that serviced the paper mills and forestry industry of the area. It also served as a bedroom community for some of the air force personnel posted in North Bay Ontario.

About a forty five minute drive West of North Bay, it’s nestled along a winding river and had some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen outside of my home in Kingston. It was the wild and rugged beauty of Canada's North with vast spaces and rich forests I'd only read about in school.

I smiled on the inside thinking about those first years in my adoptive home. The way Jeffery had to hold me tight those winter days, trying to keep the cold out. I was warm enough in the well heated house, but I liked the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms around me more.

Nineteen forty seven was a wonderful year. The war had been over for two years and life on the island was grand. The signs of prosperity and hope were everywhere and I was marrying the man I loved greater than life itself. It was a year of change, discovery, anticipation and also sadness, for I was also leaving the island and would be so far from my family.

I remember the buckets of tears from my mother and sister - and myself of course, as I boarded the ship that would take me to a new home and a new life. I also remember the powerful, vice like embrace of my father as he whispered his love for me in my ear. He never said much before, but I always knew he was proud of me. To hear him say it now was bitter sweet as I was about to embark for the three week journey.

It wasn't as if I wouldn't see them again, but it would be a while and it would only be for short visits. That was life in the modern world though, and I was looking forward to it. I might even say I craved it knowing my new life was going to be shared with the man I love.

Canada was grand. We settled in Sturgeon Falls after buying a modest home there. It was a short drive from Jeffery’s work at the Canadian Air Force base in North Bay where he worked as head of the signals and communication section. It was a quiet place away from the busy city.

In a way, Sturgeon reminded me a bit of the quiet life back home – well, if you take the snow and cold out of the picture, and the French language half the town spoke.

Jeffery and I lived and loved as much as any two people could, at least until that January in nineteen fifty two. We'd been married for almost five years by then and Jeffery's job in the military plus the now ranging conflict in Korea kept him busy and me socializing with the other military wives. He had his weekends off of course and was home by four-thirty every day. It was truly a wonderful life we had.

By January the war in Korea had raged for two years. We had heard that things were going well for the United Nation forces, but many of us had our reservations. Jeffery received new orders that month and my heart sank with the weight of a thousand suns.

The army needed experienced signal men to bridge the vast distances of the battlefield. Jeffery used to tell me that ‘communications was the key to winning any war’.

“It was only going to be a six month deployment in a safe area,” he had said as he comforted me.

“I won’t be gone for long; and I’m only going to train the signal’s people there on the new radios. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he kept reassuring me.

Three and a half weeks after he left - I wince each time I recall the moment – just over three weeks into his service I received a visit from Jeffery's commanding officer and the base pastor.

I collapsed at the door the second I opened it and saw the big blue car with the Government of Canada license plate pull up in the drive. I used to listen to the war correspondence on the Canadian Broadcasting Service and I knew how bad it could get over there. I knew what news was coming and yet I wasn’t ready for it. How could I be, no one could be ready to hear your life was being ripped apart. I died a bit on the inside that day.

Life has a funny way of changing stories in the middle. You start a life with big dreams that you’re going to live out the rest of your life with someone, raise children and grow old together. Then just as it begins, it ends unfulfilled.

Jeffery and I were having too much fun enjoying each other; we had made a conscious decision to have children later on. Now, I had nothing but bitter sweet memories and a pain in my heart that would not go away.

There was nothing left for me in Canada after that. Sure I had my work and of course Jeffery’s family, but I didn't have mine. I didn’t have my supports that I so desperately needed at that very moment. His parents understood when I told them I couldn't stay.

I did try, lord knows I tried to stick it out. In the end though, they would have come to the same decision if they were in my place. I am going to miss them. We comforted each other with our shared loss and promised to keep in touch. Funny, the loss of a son and a husband – two lives lost in the death of one beautiful man.

So in the spring of that same year I put my affairs in order, including the sale of our home and arranged for Jeffery's survivor and spouse’s pension to be deposited into the Royal Bank of Canada here in Kingston. After booking my passage, I took the train to Toronto and boarded a flight to Jamaica.

And here I am today, lonely but not lonely; alive and just a bit dead at the same time. Oh how I miss him, even after two years, it’s hard to move on with the everyday challenges that life brings us sometimes.

Still, now that I’m back in Jamaica, I have my family to lean on and my sister has been fantastic. She’s been a sounding board for me and a pillar to lean on when my heart breaks.

Mind you, that may change now that she is engaged. That’s the reason for this party today – a celebration of love and hope.

My eyes begin to tear as memories flood back from the past. I need to get back to my here-an-now and get control of my emotions. This isn’t my day after all, it’s my sister’s and I’m not going to ruin it for her by stealing the show. Besides, I’m sure that everyone has seen enough of me cry with the uncontrolled sobbing of a hysterical woman.

"BaYa!" Shouted mister Tubbs as he threw down a domino. "Ya see, I am not finished wit yous just yet. So ya na jump to victory too soon.”

Everyone burst out laughing again at the site of these men taking the game, and living, with such zeal and light hearted fun, myself included.

The sounds of Kingston also intruded on our gathering with distant car and truck horns, and the public address speaker booming calypso music from the tavern not too far away. A small grove of mango and short palm trees blocked much of the sounds and views outside our gate, but the distinct sound of the Kingston tram headed to Constant Springs pierced through the air as it squeaked to a halt. I could just see just enough down the drive and from the trams open sides, I could observe men and women in various styles of dress, arms full of packages either heading home, or shopping and maybe even to work.

I also spotted one young and handsome man step off, a brown paper package wrapped tight with butchers’ string under one arm and a bouquet of flowers held tight in the other. I knew who it was the second I saw him.

The pressed white shirt contrasted nicely against the dark gray suite. The white porkpie hat, white patent leather shoes, his slim body, tight - oh my, I have to stop.

“Rodney!” shouted my sister as she ran down the drive to meet her fiancé at the gate.

I have to say that it was still a bit strange calling him her fiancé. While not arranged, it was as if the union was preordained in the boardroom of two major corporations trying to find common ground to work together. My father’s heavy machinery company and Rodney’s parents Bauxite factory joined not just by a common concern in making money, but also the unity of their children.

She reached the end of the drive and swung open the black gate in mere seconds, practically jumping into Rodney’s open arms. He dropped the wrapped package but held onto the flowers with ease. His strong arms holding up my sister’s full weight with ease as she fawned all over him.

Such public displays of affection are very rare in Kingston, frowned upon by ‘civil’ society – and I was so jealous. I envied her with all my being and missed my Jeffery the way he used to hold me like that. I put down my glass and ran inside to my room, closing and locking the door behind me as I collapsed on the bed – tears in my eyes.

I am an educated woman with years of life experience and I know that these emotions are totally illogical. It’s been two long years, why do I still feel this way?

They are my emotions however and I wasn’t sure how to control them. I wanted to, no, I had to get control of myself. Seeing my baby sister and Rodney kiss in the drive should not send me over the edge after all this time.

So what was it? What was causing me to break down like this? Why should I lose control of my emotions when I spot that gorgeous body walking toward me? His strong arms, chiseled chest and – oh God, I just figured it out.

It wasn’t their love for each other that made me lose it. It wasn’t me missing Jeffery, although I did. It was the man that I wanted. It was the strong arms and body holding me tight – pressing me into the bed....

Okay girl, get hold of yourself. I am not that kind of person. I am a grown woman and widow and mature enough to know what is appropriate. I am not taken back by a man – with a body to kill for. Damn!

I laid on the bed for some time, not really sure how long. I could feel his weight press on my legs. I could feel his strong hand run along the right leg, moving toward my thigh. I knew it was wrong but that didn’t matter, it felt so good. His arms pulled me toward him as I turned on my back, my hand moved from my breasts, down my side and toward my....

“Elizabeth? Are you okay dear?” I heard from the other side of the door as I opened my eyes in surprise.

Shit. It was just a dream. A vivid and desperate imagination playing tricks on my fragile subconscious and emotions.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath as I tried to answer, “Yes,” I sang out. “I was just a bit tired mama. I’ll be down just as soon as I freshen up.”

I was on my back starring up at the ceiling fan turn slowly, quietly. The shutters on the window were closed but a light breeze could be felt blow across my legs and face. I know I was smiling but not sure why. It was just a silly dream after all and didn’t mean anything. Just a dream I kept telling myself. A dream I was beginning to believe was, or could be real.

No, dreams can’t be real and this dream can never come true. I had to remain true to who I think I am, who I believed I am. My sister was engaged to marry this man in six months and I could not allow my illicit desires to wreck someone else’s life. Mine was a bit of a train wreck after all and it wasn’t right to toss others on to the same track.

“Don’t be long hon, I’m having dinner served in an hour now that Rodney has arrived.”

“Okay, thank you,” I said almost out of breath. I heard my mother walk away after a few seconds.

I knew she worried about me even though I kept reassuring her that I was alright. That wasn’t a total lie since I did feel better. The hard part right now was trying to control my – desires. This was the nineteen fifties after all, women were not supposed to feel these things. At least I didn’t think we were supposed to have lustful thoughts.

I wish I could talk to someone about this, about how I felt. I definitely couldn’t talk to my sister about this. That wouldn’t do, as I tried to explain to her that I lusted after her future husband. Ya, that would go over well. I could see the headlines in the Gleaner – ‘Woman Kills Sister in Fit of Rage!’

As for my mother, well, that was almost as bad. Damn, I could remember when I first started to have my period all she said was, “the pads are under the bathroom counter.” What a way to begin womanhood. She was definitely not one to have a conversation with about these types of emotions.

Jamaica in the fifties might as well be England in the Victorian era of prudish ideas, behaviours and attitudes. Even back in Sturgeon Falls it was never this bad. The women there talked about anything – including who was sleeping with whom and the sexual escapades of some of the single men. It was most enlightened compared to Kingston.

I dusted off my funk and gathered my thoughts. I looked at my watch and realized I should be out there with everyone. I took a bit of time though to straighten my dress and after looking in the dressing table mirror, wiped off my mascara. Having black bags under the eyes didn’t go with the curried goat that was being served with dinner; and quite frankly I looked worse than the goat right now.

“Damn!” I said out loud as I noticed a rip in my nylons. It must have happened when I - well it was a vivid dream after all. I grinned at the memory; it felt good in more ways than one.

“Ah well, it’s too hot for nylons anyway,” I said as I removed them and tossed them in the waste basket under the dressing table.

I stood in front of the mirror, just far enough to see all of me. The white cotton dress I wore hung loose; and you know what? I looked really good in it. I grabbed the hem, lifted it up and twirled, playing with my look.

I slipped on my white strapped sandals and took one last look before taking a deep breath and going outside.

The sun was still high in the sky but a few white clouds had moved in, helping to cool things off just a bit. It would set within the next two hours.

Thelma had begun serving dinner and the long table set up in the back yard was a site to behold.

“Thelma, you have outdone yourself,” I said quietly to her as she passed by with a platter of cut and roasted breadfruit.

“Tank you misses,” she said with a smile.

Ripe mangos and bananas adorned the centre piece. The wonderful odour of fried plantain, dumplings, callaloo, codfish, and rice and peas filed the air.

Ginger beer, sorrel and of course Red Stripe beer was also placed strategically on the table. The boys of course having easy reach of the stubby Red Stripe bottles.

Some people had already begun to gather at the dinner table but I could still hear the domino game in full swing around the front of the house in the carport. My mother told Thelma she could bring out the curry now while she marched to the front to break up the game.

I chuckled to myself as the sound of my mother’s persuasion drove the remainder of the men to the table.

I chose my seat with some purpose and sat down, across from Rodney, who sat beside my sister. I have to admit in hindsight it wasn’t the best place to plant myself. I wondered what possessed me to do such a thing when I quickly remembered why. I chastised myself for playing with not only my own emotions but that of my sister, who quite frankly was a very innocent party to my lustful thoughts.

The aroma of curried goat as it carried through the slatted blinds of the kitchen jarred me back to reality as Thelma and my mother walked out the back door carrying two very large bowls of the main course.

My father had already begun to serve himself heaping spoonfuls of rice and peas, which was the signal for everyone else to dig in. My mother on the other hand had other thoughts and with ‘the look’, she brought everyone, my father included, back from the brink of hell; certain that without giving thanks for this meal would be some cardinal sin.

“Ya all forget ya manners?” she said in a heavy accent.

I found it very funny that when she was with family and friends, her Jamaican accent was very heavy but in public, she had, what could only be called a proper English intonation. Even when she was talking with Thelma, she poured on the English charm.

“I expect the Lords prayer to begin da meal ya noe. Clinton, ya wan to begin?” it was more of a command than a question as my father put down his fork and recited the prayer.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at the site of eight burley men cowering to my five foot one hundred and ten pound mother; truly the matriarch of the Dunn family.

“Clinton, ya can pass the rice around now,” she said with a thing of humour, hinting that my father had placed enough of it on his plate.

My dad smiled back at her as he took one more spoon before passing the large bowl to his right, picking up the fried plantain from his left.

Conversations hummed around the table as the fourteen of us passed food and ate with delight. One would never be able to truly describe the flavours with justice. Thelma really had outdone herself this evening. I know I ate far more than I should have but the goat was by far my favourite meal and Thelma knew it. She also knew that I was still in a funk and I suppose this was her way of bringing me out. Well, as hard as it is for me to admit, it was working as I forgot my troubles and dined on a meal fit for kings and queens.

I hadn’t forgotten where I was sitting though, and so far I was able to avoid looking at Rodney. I struck up conversations about the weather, the general economy of the island, the latest fashions and even the current musical trends being promoted by a young Byron Lee and the Dragonaires.

Rodney must have been paying attention to my conversation with Buster Tibbs around music because he said, “It’s funny that you mention music. I was in the record shop this morning and heard that Bob Marley moved to Trench Town earlier this year. I hear he’s putting together a band and will play reggae music.”

“Reggae...bah!” chimed in my lovely mother. “Dat nothing but noise coming from a man instead of a goat.” She could be so eloquent with her musings.

Rodney didn’t let her interrupt though, “Mrs. Henriques, reggae is nothing more than an expression of how one feels. It’s a growing and popular trend that we just have to accept.”

I saw my sister kick him under the table and I couldn’t hold back a giggle as rice flew out of my mouth onto the plate in front of me.

Mother turned and said, “¬¬¬Lizabeth, ya all right?”

“Yes, yes, it just went down the wrong way,” I used my napkin to hide the grin on my face and muffled the other bits of laughter trying to make its way out.

Rodney gave Mary a sharp glance and shrugged his shoulder as if to ask, ‘What? What did I do?’

My father, not one to pass up an opportunity, asked, “Rodney, is ya father planning on opening that new plant soon?”

“Now is not the time nor place fa business Clinton,” chastised my mother.

Then something strange happened, as everyone else started to talk about the merits or down fall of civilization due to reggae music, I saw Rodney look over at me and smile. Not a polite smile but, something else. Something deeper; at least I thought it was deeper. I hoped it was deeper.

Brian, who sat beside Rodney on the left, was never one for conformity. I suspect his taste in music was far from reggae and was totally lost in this conversation. He abruptly shifted the discussion, “I ear that Keith Gardner is running for Jamaica in the Australian Olympics dis year.”

The table went quiet. Everyone, dumbfounded at the shift in topic, laughed out loud then just as quickly began to talk about the Olympics and Jamaica’s chances at various events.

I reached over to grab a fried dumpling from the plate in front of me and touched Rodney’s hand, who also was reaching for the same thing. It was soft, smooth and yet felt strong. A electric shock ran through my spine and my legs trembled. It was only a split second but if time could stand still, it just did for me.

I smiled at him then glanced toward my sister who was deep in conversation with Trevor, seated just two people to her right. Rodney did not look away and did not remove his hand right away either. For that split second, we looked into each other’s eyes. His deep brown piercing eyes, the strong jaw line, and the well tanned colour of his smooth skin all melted into my brain and flowed through me. Memories of feelings once thought long forgotten bolted to the front of my mind without concern for consequence.

I pulled back my hand and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ in a hushed apology. I could feel my face turning red as blood rushed out of my heart to ease my embarrassment. I wasn’t sure he’d noticed how I was staring at him for that brief moment.

Rodney shrugged his broad shoulders as if to say ‘it’s okay, no harm done’.

I’m not exactly sure how, but when I started to pay attention to what was being said at the table, the topic of conversation had changed again and was on what there was to do and where to go in Kingston on the upcoming bank holiday.

Rodney suggested visiting the passenger wharf down at the harbour. While normally a strange place to visit, the luxury Swedish passenger liner Kungsholm was moored there and giving tours. It was only the second time the flagship of the Swedish Ship Lines was visiting and it was reported to be a grand ship.

For some strange reason I chimed in and said, “Yes, it is supposed to be a fine ship. I read in the Gleaner that it is the largest ship to fly the Swedish flag.”

I felt like a fool saying that. It made no sense since I could care less if it was the largest ship or the smallest ship. But for some reason I felt compelled to agree and support Rodney. I hoped that I wasn’t blushing right now because I certainly could feel the heat rising from my throat and throughout my face.

Rodney suggested we all go there for lunch tomorrow.

My sister however had other plans, “I think you’ve lost ya mind my dear. I hav to work tomorrow, remember?”

“Sorry my sweet, but I did forget,” replied an apologetic Rodney. “It completely slipped my mind.”

“If anyone else is going, I’d love to go see it,” I said without thinking; at least with my brain.

The funny thing was, I don’t think anyone was listening and it seemed that only Rodney may have heard me. No one else responded and carried on with their own private discussions. Even my sister was engaged in an exchange about the wedding plans with our mother.

Rodney and I exchanged a long look as non lady like thoughts rushed through my mind.

With dinner over, the beer drank and not much left over, we all helped mama and papa clean up and put things away. The sun had already set and Thelma had gone home with the blessing of everyone at the dinner table. Only a couple of the guests lingered about as everyone said their goodbyes and headed home.

I went to sit on the front porch and looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling overhead. I was in mid awe of the grander above when my sister and Rodney came out. Rodney was saying good night to my parents and my sister was now saying good night to Rodney.

She held his hand as he tipped his cap to me and said good night. His voice was strong yet soothing and I’m not sure if I just nodded or said something; I do know I looked him up and down like some construction worker checking out the latest skirt to walk by.

Mary turned with Rodney and talked toward the end of the drive. I found myself staring at his tight ass and....oh my, I was doing it again.

I watched them stop at the gate and Mary turned to hug him. Her arms wrapped tight around his chest and after a long kiss, jumped up into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he reached down to hold her up by her bottom.

There wasn’t much light at the end of the drive, but I could just make out his face as Rodney turned and winked. Not at Mary but toward me. At least I think it was toward me. Let’s face it, I was so into my fantasy by this point that I was starting to feel the heat in certain body parts that only a women could know about.

Just as he was released from the vice like grip of my sister, Rodney turned toward the house and said out loud, “Don’t forget that if anyone wants to see the Kungsholm, I’ll meet them at the Half Way Tree tram station at ten in the morning.”

“Oh Rodney,” my sister responded, “No one is going to want to get up that early to see some old boat. I’d still be in bed if I didn’t have to work at the hospital.”

“Sure, I know,” he said, waved and was off.

I awoke at eight thirty the next morning and quickly jumped in the bath. The house was still very quiet as Thelma was always at the market this early and Mary had already left for work. My parents decided to visit friends in Constant Spring’s so they left early.

I had the place to myself. I though a long soak in the tub would be a good start to the day. The water poured from the spigot into the large tub and it felt wonderful, as if a waterfall cascaded on my shoulders and ran down my neck.

I noted the time before closing my eyes, letting myself slide deeper into the soaker tub. I was so relaxed and at peace with myself.

Water made the most wonderful sound as it fell, gurgling, bubbling, and rushing. It created a sense of nothing as it flowed over me and into the pool at my feet. My skin tingled as goose bumps rose from deep down within me. That was when Rodney came into the room. That was when I knew I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer.

My thighs tightened as the feeling raced up my spine toward my heart and my breath became short. I gasped for air as a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time overcame me.

The muscles in my legs contracted, starting at my toes, running up toward my arched back. I grasped for air again and again. I felt him grasp my hair; his hands caressed my face, his touch light and fleeting. I pressed forward for more. As he ran his hands down, he passed my neck with the slightest touch, barely perceptible but it left me wanting more.

Then down along my breasts, firm and wet as the water swept over them. I felt his breath, hot with the passion that only he could bring, blow across them as he moved down my body. I ached for him right now. I couldn’t stand the anticipation as my thighs arched even higher toward him.

“Miss Elizabeth, you still hear?” came the shrill call of Thelma.

My heart jumped and I slipped in the tub, my head going under the soap bubbles as her call woke me out of…well, out of what could only be the most erotic dream I believe I have ever had.

“Son of a… Why is it I can’t be satisfied even in my dreams?” I said out loud, still out of breath.

I heard her coming down the hall way toward the bathroom and my inner sanctum.

“Thelma, I’m just taking a bath before I leave,” I said loudly enough for her to hear.

“All right child. But ya betta hurry if ya try and make the tram,” she called back.

I looked over at the clock on the shelf and quickly washed off. I had just enough time if I hurried. My erotic imagination will just have to go unfulfilled again.

The walk to the nearest tram stop was as far as the end of drive and with each step I was transported toward a different path in my mind. I analyzed the consequences and benefits of what I was doing. Yet even as I did that, I still pushed ahead with my journey.

I was lucky when I got to the tram stop as one was just pulling up. I quickly stepped up on the skirting board and sat down on the padded wooden bench, quietly staring straight ahead, still wondering if I was doing the right thing. I was in unfamiliar territory and I needed direction, but all I had were my own wits and I wasn’t entirely sure I even had that or if I could trust it.

It did not take long for the tram to round the final curve toward the Half Way Tree tram station and the end of the line.

Wow, that was a bad choice of words I thought – I trusted that this was not going to be the end of anything. After thinking about it for a moment however, I realized that my feelings, whatever they were, might just be the end of my pining for Jeffery and the start of me being able to get on with my life.

It wasn’t that I wanted to forget my true love lost, but that I didn’t want his memory to create a kind of resentment as I aged. I did want to move forward but wasn’t, at least until now, sure how to move on.

I looked at my watch – ten minutes to ten, right on time.

I wasn’t sure where Rodney was going to meet me, but I had hoped that I wasn’t being silly or looking desperate by showing up.

Someone startled me with a tap on my shoulder. I turned quickly to look up slightly into the beautiful face of Rodney, his brown eyes penetrated right through me.

“I wondered if anyone was going to show up,” he started. “I was also hoping it was going to be you.”

I freely admit it - I was stunned and speechless by what he just said. I even wondered if I wasn’t dreaming again.

Trying to gather my composure, I responded, “I didn’t want to stay home another minute. I just needed to get out and this seemed like a good opportunity.”

It was a week attempt to come across as being nonchalant and I think it worked. At least I hoped it worked otherwise I’m looking more desperate than ever.

“At any rate,” he started, “I think we’ll have a good time. I have my car outside.”

Like a gentleman, he reached out his hand and gestured toward the car park, allowing me to lead. We walked out the station into the bright sun light and walked toward his car; the breeze was gentle and cool this morning, taking the edge off the equatorial sun before it rose higher into the cloudless sky.

“I didn’t know you owned a car Rodney,” I said in general conversation.

“It’s my father’s, but being his favorite son he let me use it today.”

“I thought you were his only son,” I teased.

“Your sister never told me you were such a wit.”

Oh god, my sister- what the hell was I doing? I wish Rodney never brought her up as I got a flash of her pained face in my mind. ‘You stole my fiancée you bitch’ is what she would say; and she would be right.

I stopped in my tracks; Rodney took two more steps before stopping and looked back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

I didn’t answer right away but stared straight ahead.

“Hello? Elizabeth, are you in there?” he asked again, this time with some concern.

I heard his voice, his words but could only question what I was doing. Everything went through my mind in what felt like an hour. In fact I ran through my thoughts of foreboding in a matter of a minute before I answered.

“Oh? Oh, sorry Rodney, I was just thinking,” I said, trying to sound unfazed by what just happened.

“Thinking? It looked as if you were having a seizure. Are you okay? What were you thinking about?”

I responded quickly, trying to sound more positive, “Oh, nothing really; girl stuff.”

‘Girl Stuff?’ What the hell is girl stuff? I heard myself and I sounded as if I had lost my mind.

“Well, if you’re okay; are you sure you’re okay with our being together today? We can put off the visit to the ship some other time if you’re not up to it.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Now, which car is yours?”

“Right over here,” he pointed toward a silver Mercedes Benz.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “This is a very nice car.”

It was brand new; bright silver with two-tone gray leather seats, white wall tires with chrome hubcaps and chrome accents all over.

“My father will be very happy someone else likes the car. I’m not a big fan of it but it was the only car I could take today.”

“How many cars does your father have?” I asked with some surprise.

“Three all together; two cars and a pickup truck,” he answered without fanfare. It was almost as if he was embarrassed to say anything.

Rodney went to the passenger side and unlocked the door, opening it for me. I climbed in and he closed the door. In no time we were out of the parking lot driving toward the harbor area.

Kingston is the heartbeat of Jamaica and life here set the pace for much of the island. We began the twenty five minute drive and I took the opportunity to iron out my emotions while looking at life as we drove along the boulevard. The colours of the cinder block homes were vibrant and brimming with lively activity. Children playing, domino or card games, washing and cleaning, it was all happening as we drove. The street was an orderly chaos of vehicles, bicycles, scooters and people mixed with a few goats, dogs and cats.

There was a long standing joke that no one owned the goats roaming the streets until one was hit and killed by a car. Then a dozen people would run out claiming ownership with the hope of having some free meat for supper. It was an odd contrast but it made sense on some level.

The people of Jamaica were a proud lot with strong nerves and a certain fearlessness that was needed to survive; a certain fierceness and determination that allowed one to not only survive, but flourish as well on an island that was once isolated and remote.

I wanted to flourish and my thoughts quickly caught up to my emotions. In order to flourish, I needed to have a stronger sense of self. I needed to push ahead and punch through that emotional door blocking me from moving on.

I decided right then and there, sitting in that silver Mercedes Benz, to move forward and not look back.

I turned to Rodney and smiled, “Rodney, please don’t take this the wrong way and I’ll apologize right now for being so forward, but I have to ask. Why do you love my sister?”

I thought he was going to have a heart attack right in the car. He did not answer right away but looked over at me and back toward the traffic in front of him. At the first opportunity he pulled over. I glanced to my right to see that we parked just in front of the Ward Theatre, its white iron fence and gates as imposing as the question I just asked of Rodney.

He parked, placed the transmission in neutral and pulled on the parking brake before shutting off the motor.

“I’m, not really sure how to answer that,” he stuttered.

I figured I may as well push right along head first; I’d already stuck my head through the noose and the hangman was pulling the rope tight.

I clarified my question, “Ever since you and my sister announced your engagement, I tried to figure out why you loved her. You two are so very different and it seemed at times that this was not your idea.”

He looked right at me the whole time, fixed on my face and still holding onto the steering wheel. It was like if he let go he would fall into a cavernous hole and not be able to climb back out. He looked so scared and I felt so sorry for him right at that moment.

Funny though, I felt sorry for him, but not regret for asking the question in the first place. This may be a good step for me – as long as I didn’t have to bring Rodney to the hospital for heart failure.

In what seemed like hours, he released the steering wheel and turned his body toward me.

Looking into my eyes, he said in a soft voice, “I really like your sister, I do. Paulina is a very nice person. But if I’m being honest, I don’t love her.” There was a sense of regret in his voice and a sense of relief. “My father, the ever present business opportunist that he is, set me up with a date after a meeting with your father.”

“But why did you ask her to marry you if you knew that she was not the one?” I interrupted.

“I’m not sure I can answer that in any way that would make sense,” he paused. “I didn’t really want to but I felt so guilty that if I’d said no, it was going to crush her. We’d been going out for six months and it was fun, don’t get me wrong. But I didn’t have any future plans with her.”

I gave him a stern look, “You know what it would do to her now if you simple said sorry, it was all a mistake?”

“I know; I know – and I do still plan on marrying her. That being said, it’s not her that I think I’m falling in love with.”

I asked with some hesitation, “Who, exactly, are you falling in love with?”

Not answering the question, he reached down and started the car, then put it in drive.

“We should get going. I booked us on the eleven-o-clock tour and we don’t want to be late,” he said as he checked on traffic, and then pulled out from the curb.

He smiled at me a couple of times but for the most part kept his eyes on the traffic in front of him. I’d prefer if he kept his eyes on me but for safety sake, it seemed better this way. The funny thing is, that whole conversation did not seem out of place. It was as if we had to talk about it and even he seemed to feel the same. I would have thought he may have questioned me on the appropriateness of the question in the first place, but he dove right into the heart of the matter.

The other funny thing was I didn’t feel like it was wrong. I never felt any regret or sadness about the loss of Jeffery. It was as if my mind, body and emotions have decided together to begin the process of moving on and damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. It felt – good.

The streets were starting get busy as we drove down Spanish Town Road, turning right down Ocean Boulevard. I started to smell the salt air from the warm Caribbean Ocean mixed with the scent of fish from the market. It was an intoxicating odour that brought me home.

“Just down the road now,” Rodney interrupted my thoughts. “I’m hoping that we can go out for lunch after the tour. I took the liberty of making us a reservation at the Yacht Club. My father has a membership there.

I didn’t answer as the he turned the car right on Port Royal Street; one block away from the dock yard. Rodney found the car park and pulled in. A number of people were milling about, talking, taking pictures or just gazing in the distance toward the ship. The Kungsholm could be seen above the roof of the port building. Its two large funnels painted gold with the Swedish liners logo emblazoned on the side, and the upper decks, white and gleaming in the bright sun, was inviting and I looked forward to seeing it up close. I was actually excited about this tour.

“So, does lunch sound good to you?” Rodney asked again, hopeful, like a small lost puppy.

“How can I say no to that offer,” I finally answered.

I don’t think I hesitated but I had to think about it for a second. This was sounding more like a date than a couple of people just hanging out. He must have anticipated I would be the only one taking him up on the offer for a tour of the ship, otherwise why make reservations at the Royal Jamaica Yacht Club?

My thoughts were quickly forgotten when Rodney opened the door for me. I hadn’t even realized he’d gotten out of the car.

“Focus old girl,” I said to myself as he took my hand, assisting my exit from the car into the blazing sun.

“We have to pick up the tour tickets from the tourist information center. Then we’ll be all set to begin. I understand it is more of a self guided tour,” he announced with a smile, pointing toward the closest red brick building.

We began our stroll through the ship at the top decks visiting the bridge and getting a good overview of the grandeur of the beautiful vessel. As we descended to the next level, I was glad to be out of the heat. We wandered through the decks of the large ship looking in various control rooms and the posh cabins laid out as if royalty was about to begin a cruise. I was enjoying myself, but Rodney seemed genuinely excited as he pointed out various parts of the ship. He’d obviously read up on the Kungsholm.

He rambled on about this part and that, while I listened without getting bored. It’s not like I was really interested in the Kungsholm, but more engrossed in Rodney. I found myself clinging to every word he had to say.

“You look like you need a break from all this walking,” I heard Rodney say.

I had to quickly look around. We were in a lounge area, small round tables and chairs dotted the large open space while a bar and buffet area took up the remainder at the far end of the room. I didn’t even notice when we walked into the lounge.

Recovering, I answered, “I could use a tea and chair to rest my feet.” Oh god that sounded so corny even as I heard myself say it.

He smiled and pulled up a chair for me at one of the empty table along the wall.

“Be right back,” he said. “I’ll get us a couple of teas and see what they have to munch on.”

As Rodney walked away toward the bar I found myself watching his very fit and firm buttocks. I know, I know, I have to keep my cool, but I also realized it was getting warmer in here. I put my clutch on the table and removed the white lace scarf I had around my neck and placed it in my hat, laying them on the purse. I never took my eyes off Rodney the whole time. I watched him order the tea and pick up a plate, placing a few scones and tea cakes on it.

When he got back to the table he said, “Sorry, this was all they had. It seems that no one told the chief that tourists were going to be on board today.”

“No matter, this is fine Rodney. We’re going out for lunch after anyway and I wouldn’t want to spoil my appetite.”

It was an awkward silence that crept up on us. I felt it and I’m sure he did as well. So much needed to be said yet neither of us dared say what we wanted to.

I looked around the lounge instead, attempting to remove my mind from my thoughts. The lounge had cream marble walls cut into a very large brick pattern. The ceiling was high and suspended what looked to be very delicate crystal lighting. The carpet was a plush burgundy colour with lines, or vanes of bright red running throughout. In the centre section there as a terrace that overlooked a court yard and a set of stairs winding downward. It was very grand indeed. The only people in site were those working or taking the tour as the paying passengers had already disembarked and the ship had not taken on new guests.

Yet as I looked around and saw everything, I paid attention to nothing but Rodney sitting in front of me; his eyes never leaving mine.

“This could get awkward,” he finally said quietly.

“Yes,” I answered. “It could – but I don’t care right now.” I have no idea why I said that and it must have showed in my face because he smiled. I could feel myself getting flushed.

I looked down on the table and for the first time noticed that he held my hands in his firm, yet soft grip. I didn’t even know when he took them but I didn’t care at this point.

“We should finish the tour and head over to lunch,” I blurted out awkwardly.

“Sure.”

We rose, I picked up my scarf, hat and clutch and we continued along. My emotions were on overdrive and I felt myself wanting more. More warmth, more contact and more of Rodney. Jeffery was not forgotten but he was no longer taking over my thoughts and feelings. I felt free and I did not feel bad for it.

I was off in my own world of thoughts when Rodney stopped me, holding me against the narrow hallway wall between two stateroom doors. He pressed his lips against mine and I returned the gesture. It was moist, warm, soft and nice.

His right hand pulled me closer toward him and I gave into every demand his hard body commanded. I ached for this, I needed this, I craved this and it felt so good. It was a hard passionate kiss that lasted – well, who knows how long it lasted. I was ruled by this intense emotion to have him take me, and I was about to get my wish.

He came up for breath and we looked down the hall in either direction – no one in site. Rodney tried the stateroom door to his right and it opened. Finding it empty, we launched ourselves inside and closed the door. He picked me up and placed me on the bed in the middle of the room. His arms rippled and bulged as he lifted me.

I wanted him with every fiber and it was clear that the feeling was mutual; but I was here many times before and it turned out to be a dream each time. This time was different however, this time the dream was as real as life itself and I was alive. I felt every part of him as he held me in his arms. It felt so good.

My body quivered with each kiss as he began to undress me and I gave into everything. The silk sheets beneath me felt soft and rich against my skin and I felt myself squirm as I grabbed for the edges of the bed. Any apprehension or stress I was experiencing vanished as my muscles tensed and released like a heartbeat.

I began to feel as if I was on a roller coaster as my body began to spasm. The ride to the top of the coaster and as you go over the top, that intense feeling one can get beginning in the head and working its way down through my back into my hips as I pulled him close, hard. It was wonderful and I not only needed this, I wanted it. It was hot as waves of energy plowed over me and I wanted to scream with delight and pleasure.

I hate to admit it, but this was for me, and I know what I got out of the experience was far greater than what Rodney received. He didn’t seem to mind though. It was as if my pleasure was, well, part of his.

We lay on the bed sweating and panting like two dogs in heat. I checked my watch and realized we need to quickly get dressed and vacate the room before we got caught.

“Oh shit,” I shouted. “Rodney we need to go, it’s almost twelve ten.”

“Good thing we took a room with a shower,” he smiled, kissing me softly.

We showered, got dressed and quietly sneaked out of the stateroom, making our way to the ramp and the sun drenched dock side.

In the car, on our way to lunch at the Yacht Club, we stole glances at each other but said nothing. Nothing had to be said after all. We were both consenting adults and even considering the social indiscretion we just committed; neither of us cared at the moment.

As we pulled into the car park of the Yacht Club, I checked by makeup and turned to face Rodney. He must have been paying attention for he quickly said, “You look great; you’ll be the envy of every woman here.”

“Rodney, you know that’s not what I was going to ask you.” I still had a grin on my face and found it difficult to maintain a serious tone.

In my dreams, there was no outside world to intrude on the two of us. In my dreams, there were no social distractions or conventions that must be followed while we were together. This was reality however and reality was full of obstacles that had to be navigated.

“No, seriously, we should talk about what just happened and where we’re going with this.”

Rodney didn’t move or say anything for what felt like hours, then, “Look, I know it seems strange; what just happened, but somehow it felt, no, feels right. If you’re going to ask me if I feel guilty or something, the answer would be no, I don’t.”

As he spoke, I stared into his eyes and it was like making love again. It was deep, very deep; and warm and sexy. ‘It just felt – right’.

I had no idea I even spoke, but said, “Let’s go have lunch.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just said out loud. Let’s have lunch? What the hell was I thinking? I thought I wanted to have a conversation, map out the direction we wanted to take. I thought that even consenting adults had one night stands – and I was even fine with the idea, if that’s all it turned out to be.

I turned to open the door and rolled my eyes in complete amazement.

Rodney grabbed my shoulder as I opened the door. I already had my right leg outside the car and stopped. His hand felt warm on my shoulder; gentle, smooth and inviting.

I swung my head around and my body followed. He met me half way as our lips touched.

I’m not sure how long our kiss lasted and I don’t know if anyone saw us in the car, here in the car park, but I just didn’t care at this point. So much for social convention and proper decorum.

We released each other and took a long lingering breath.

“Right,” Rodney began to say. “Let’s go have some lunch, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” I could barely speak and that came out more of a squeal than actual words.

He took my arm and after closing and locking the car door, guided me toward the red painted wooden steps that led to the club restaurant. I had the impression of floating just above the ground as he led the way.

There was a school girl feel to what was happening to my emotions. It was as if you know that one day you’re looking at someone and see something, something more than you did yesterday. Then the next day a switch has been flicked and the person you were just friends with is suddenly the only person you can see yourself with. That was when it dawned on me that this friend, who is now my lover, is also my sister’s fiancé.

Oh crap - I said before that reality has a way of creeping in on your dreams. We always want what we can’t have and the things that are forbidden are the best things out there. So where did that leave me?

“You have my reservation under Ewarton.”

I wasn’t even aware we’d entered the restaurant until Rodney spoke up. Crap, I have to get with the here and now and stop thinking in a dream like state.

“Yes sir, our Phylicia will seat you sir, madam,” the matradee was formal, making sure he pronounced each and every syllable. It was the way most Jamaicans spoke to tourists who might not otherwise understand a thick heavy accent. What struck me is that we weren’t tourists. It was a silly thought really and I’m not even sure why it bounced around inside my head.

I kept stealing glances at Rodney, catching him doing the same as a hostess brought us to our table. Rodney had thought of everything; the table he arranged was remote, near the rear of the restaurant and somewhat hidden by a couple of large ferns, the leaves fanning out on either side of the oversize planter. Phylicia sat us first then fetched some water, poured two glasses with ice and handed us our menus before announcing the chef’s special and telling us who our waiter was.

“Rodney,” I began, but was interrupted when he reached over the table and held my hands.

“I know what you must be thinking, and I think I know what you’re going to say, but loving you is like breathing, how can I stop?” his lips curled ever so slightly and his eyes took on the appearance of a love sick teenager.

I burst out laughing, “You have got to be kidding me. Who came up with that line?” I asked.

“I have no idea, but I for one thought it was a very good line – no?”

“Just a bit on the corny side I would have said. But I’ll give you an ‘A’ for effort.”

I let the moment linger on for just a bit before spoiling it with a dose of reality, “I have to ask, but why exactly are you marrying my sister again? I know I asked you why you love her, but asking someone to marry them is a pretty major life changing event.” I did not want it to sound like the inquisition, but I’m not sure it could have come out any other way.

“It’s a fair question, especially on the face of current circumstances’,” he began. “You know our respective fathers are in bed together, at least by proxy through your sister and me. At first it was a fondness I felt for her but that grew into a kind of love. At least what I thought was love. Then over time, I came to realize that it wasn’t love, not on my part anyway. I also came to realize that your sister does love me with all her being. I just wish I could explain to her that it was a one sided feeling.”

“It’s not too late you know. She has to be told before it goes too far and she gets really hurt.” I felt like I was pleading, begging for him to end their relationship so he could begin it with me.

Rodney smiled, “You know that it is too late and that to end it now would be the end of us as well. Your parents would never condone our involvement right after I ended it with Mary.”

I jumped in quickly at this point, “You know that they wouldn’t exactly condone what you and I are up to right now either. You tell me which is worse.” I gave him a stern look.

“I know…” he sighed and his voice trailed off to a distant place that felt as lonely as it sounded.

Our server came by and offered to top up our glasses.

We passed a few more awkward moments making small talk, trying to stay away from the forbidden fruit as it were. By now, events and emotions have gone way past what anyone would have expected of two people raised in ‘proper society’ and if we did not want to get carried away, we, at least I believe we, both need to bring our emotions under control.

I found this concept very foreign however. “Rodney, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to make a phone call.”

I excused myself; he stood up like a gentleman and pulled out my chair.

No more than five minutes later I came back to the table. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I asked.

“Oh, not much,” he answered. “After I return you home I plan on pining the rest of the evening away at the house.”

“Good,” I responded curtly, “but you are not bringing me home in this condition I said. “I just ran into an old girlfriend and will be spending the night at her place.” I smiled at him with a deep look of desire.

Sometimes I think that men in general are just a bit slow. okay, most of the time I think men are slow.

He glanced over my shoulder toward the three telephone booths near the front entrance; a queer sort of confusion washed over his face. “You ran into a friend? I never saw you even speak with anyone.”

I played along to see how quickly he picked up on the subtle hints. “Ah…. Yes, I called home and informed my mother that I would not be back tonight. She said to say hello to you but I had to let her know that you had already left after the ship tour. Shame really.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yes, my friend lives out by Port Morant,” I paused for a second, “Morant Bay to be exact; at a little villa that I just booked a quiet room at.”

He turned his head toward the side like a confused dog. Then the light went on and he caught on. His smile widened - as I said, men can be slow on the pick up at times.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure about this? Once we go ‘there’, there is no turning back.”

“Do I look like a woman that wants to turn back. Rodney, I’m tired of living in the past and right now, my future is very much uncertain. So all I want right now, more than anything in the world, is to live for the moment. And you are in my moment – If you want to be.”

“More than anything.”

We paid the check, left the restaurant and drove off toward the East.

Nothing was said, save for a few quick glances toward each other. For the most part, I kept my eyes out the window toward the sea and beautiful vista in front of me. The A4 highway was a direct route to Morant Bay and followed the Southern edge of the island. Along the way, small thatched huts, goat farmers, children playing in the surf and the odd village dotted the highway. It was just after one thirty but there was a cool breeze blowing off the ocean and with the window open, the smells of salt air mixed with the sent from the many flowering plants we passed filled me with a serene feeling. It was a short journey that I can remember took me back to a time with life was not so complicated.

We presently came upon a sign that said Yallahs with directions to the Salt Ponds. “Are you awake?” queried Rodney, “You’re not falling asleep on me are you?”

“My dear boy, you sound worried,” I teased.

“No, not at all…. I just wanted to remind you that you haven’t told me what place you booked us, I mean, you and your old girlfriend, into.”

“The Leith Hall Retreat,” I answered. “Under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Williams – who by the way, is a real name. It was a friend of mine when I lived in Canada.”

“Mr. and Mrs? Aren’t we….”

“What?” I interrupted. “Rodney, Jamaica is hardly the centre of Elizabethan society with all the proper trimmings and behavior. But it does have its own sense of what is considered appropriate conduct.”

He knew what I meant to say, although what I said came out much harsher than it was supposed to. For years, before I left Jamaica and upon my return, men and women on the island practiced a kind of monogamous lie. We all knew it was done, couples sleeping around, but no one spoke of it. It was a societal lie that right now, I was willing to be a part of. No, not willing, but needing to be a part of.

I settled back into that peaceful daze as I looked forward to the end of the drive and what would be the beginning of…

Rodney turned off the A4 highway and onto a gravel road that lead slowly up toward the hotel. Small tuffs of dust kicked up behind the Mercedes and gravel crunched beneath the tires. The rough road vibrated the car, up through the leather seat and right into me. My legs shook and that vibration traveled up along them to my lower spine and into my pelvis. I closed my eyes and squeezed my legs tight. Reaching down I felt a dampness begin to creep along as my mind went to that special place it tends to go at times like this.

Rodney must have notices because I felt his arm, his strong arm, reach over and squeeze my inner thigh. That was all it took to send my brain into overdrive and I bit my lower lip in an effort to keep from screaming.

“We’re here,” he said and parked. “I’ll be right back.”

Rodney opened the car door and walked, with what could only be described as swift determination, toward the front office. Presently he came back with a smile and hurried pace, holding up the key to our room.

It took only a few moments to retrieve me, and a bag he had in the trunk, taking us to the room off the main floor, near the end of the long inn. The room door was accessed from the outside so we did not have to walk through the main lobby… which was convenient to say the least. I knew no one in this part of the island and I doubted I, we, would run into anyone that would report back to our families. But why chance it.

As soon as the door was opened, with Rodney still holding the keys, I grabbed him. Wrapping my hands around his neck I locked my lips against his. I felt so free, so wild and quite frankly, by this time, very sexually excited.

I remember giggling as he tried in vain to retrieve the key from the lock, trying to close the door. I was like a young school girl, teasing him to no end and having the time of my life. He played the game of course as he picked me up in his strong arms, and practically threw me onto the bed that lay at the end of the spacious room, pulling his shirt over his head, not evening bothering to unbutton.

As he ran back to finish retrieving the keys and closing, then locking the door, I took no time to pull off my dress. I lay on the bed in my bra and panties, on my side with my right leg pulled up and desire, and hunger, on my face. My emotions in plain view for him and only him to see, and to take.

Rodney stopped short, his brown skin rippling with defined shape, a shimmer of sweat dripped along his mid section toward that defined area that I so much wanted. He undid his belt, unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall to the ground. The white briefs he wore hiding little of what I desired.

He moved slowly, taunting me with a deliberate advance that only drove me wild. I moved, almost jumped, toward him but he held me back; pushing me back toward the bed. He took my panties and slowly pulled them off as I released my bra clasp. It was as though I released myself. I let him take me one inch at a time. I wanted to scream for him to finish, releasing me from my torment. I wanted him to…. Well, you can see that I was no longer in control of my emotions.

He let me reach up with my neck and kiss him as he held my arms down. I could taste the salt on his lips, the sweat on the nape of his neck. I bit into his shoulder and he pushed forward, inviting me to bite into him at my pleasure. He was a wild animal and I was his quarry, at his mercy. Every fiber of my body cried out for him to take me away to that place very few women could ever describe.

He pressed his lips on my naked flesh, soft, gentle, with the icy hot touch of an angel as he moved his way down the curve of my neck toward my breasts. With each kiss I arched. With each touch I craved more. With each stroke I begged him to take me, now and forever. I begged him to drive me deeper to places that only the two of us could go. I wanted all of him, now and forever; and in time, we had penetrated each other in every way manageable. We blended into one thriving, undulated mass of flesh. Our bodies moving as one, our hearts beating as one, our climax reaching up to the havens as one.

The afternoon turned into evening and then night as the sun exchanged places with the quarter moon high above. At least that’s what must have happened because I saw none of it. I had no recollection of time. I was here in this place but far away at the same time. My body did things my mind didn’t know could be done with another person. We were merged together and time did not exist for us. I was in a far off place where my mind and body melted with the tropical heat.

What I felt, what I experienced that day, was nothing like I have experienced and I never wanted to release that feeling as we laid naked on the bed, sweat poring off our bodies. My breathing was coming back under the control of my own thoughts as I slowly rolled on my right side. I gazed at Rodney, taking in all of him from the top to the bottom and all parts between. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked.

He grinned, “I’ll cost you more than a penny for my thoughts right now. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure you are even strong enough to handle my thoughts right now.”

Right away I knew what he meant, what he desired, as he rose to the occasion is all his glory.

“You sir have impeccable timing,” I whispered in response as I reached over and provided any assistance he needed to fulfill his desire.

It was past noon the next day when Rodney opened the door to his Mercedes at the tram station. I would not do for me to be let out at the house as I was not with him, but an old school girl friend.

“I had a wonderful time,” I said quietly as he closed the door behind me.

“It would be very hard to decide who had the better time I think.”

I grinned as his meaning. We had discussed the aftermath of the last twenty four hours in his car and we came to the conclusion that we needed to take our time, not wanting to bring any suspicion.

If only I knew then what I know now. If only our…. lust, for each other could be controlled. But it was not to be. The desire we had for each other went deep and rolled over both our emotions like steam rollers trying to level a mountain road. The road had no chance.

My sister’s work schedule and her Florence Nightingale desire to help the sick kept her away from Rodney for many, many nights and I was only too eager to fill her place beside him, in his arms, and him in me; I mean mine.

I know that was harsh and I should not think of her in that way. However, while she really is a great person and is a top notch, wonderful nurse, there was more to life right now. It’s just that, well….. She really is not the ‘one’ for Rodney.

She may have been a first class nurse but she was still very young and inexperienced with a man. I truly believed that she was never going to be able to give Rodney what he needed in a woman.

And that was where I made my first mistake. It is at this point that I should have taken a giant leap back and said, “time out.”

“Damn It!” I shouted.

The house was empty, my parents at work, my sister and work, and I had given Thelma the day off. I needed some time to think.

I was naked as I looked in the mirror, turning just slightly to the left, showing the slight bump in my stomach. I was late, very late and I was never late. You could set the countries train system by the steadiness of my period; but not now.

“Morning sickness, no period, bump in the stomach…. Hmmm, what could that mean?” I said to no one. “It means that when this goes public, the headlines in the paper will read DISTRAUGHT WOMAN KILLS SISTER, CHEATING FIANCÉ AND UNBORN CHILD IN FIT OF RAGE.

“Oh damn.”

To say I was distraught is putting it mildly. I was downright angry with myself for getting into this situation; Rodney for encouraging the situation; my sister for being so inexperienced as to not hold onto her man; and the whole world for allowing this sort of thing. I was even angry at Jeffery for dieing when he promised to come back.

I think I cried for hours, or at least it felt like hours. I know I should have had the sense to know better, but I let my emotions and passion get the better of me; and now I have no clue what I should be doing. A baby, a child, something Jeffery and I always wanted, but this wasn’t his.

To Be Continued.......