Chapter 8

I sat back, trying to take this all in. I didn’t know what to think or what to do. “What do you want, Sara,” I finally asked. “What do you want from me?”

“You know exactly what I want,” she said. “God, why are you such a fucking coward, John?”

I jumped to my feet. “That’s it,” I yelled. “If all you can do is call me names, when you’re the one who fucked up and left, this is finished. Take me back, Sara.”

She just knelt there, looking up at me. “No,” she said.

I stormed over to the driver’s seat. The fucking keys were missing. “Where are the keys?”

“I’m not giving them to you,” she said. “We’re staying here until we’re done.”

“I’m done now,” I told her.

“Running away again?” she asked. “How has that been going for you, John? You’re miserable. What are you going to do? Are you going to bail on Sareen? Move back to Alaska? Why don’t you try Siberia, this time? Sit down and stop proving my point. Your solution to problems is to bail. That isn’t going to work this time. You’re not the sort of man to abandon your daughter. Didn’t you promise to take her fishing tomorrow?”

I felt incredibly weary. I went back and sat down. She had me trapped here. “I’ll ask it again. What do you want from me, Sara?”

“I’m here, John,” she said. “I’m right here. I love you with all my heart. I always have. I think you love me. I’m asking for a chance. That’s all I want, just a chance. I’m asking you to let me prove that I’ve grown up. Take Sareen fishing. I know you love that and I’m sure she will love it, too. Get to know her. Fall in love with her. She’ll make your life special again.”

I had to smile at that thought. “I’m sure she will. I want to do that, Sara. That’s it?”

“No, you know that isn’t it,” she said. “I’m making the first move here because I fucked everything up. I’m asking you out. There’s a charity function I have Tuesday night. I want you to take me. After it’s over, I want you to take me dancing. Not late, because we have to pick up Sareen. Your parents have agreed to keep her. Then I want you to let us spend the night at your house. We’ll stay in your guest room. I’ll cook breakfast in the morning. Will you?”

I thought for a minute. “I have a condition,” I said.

She looked dubious. “What?”

“I cook breakfast,” I said.

She laughed and it gave me that same old thrill. “Maybe that’s better,” she said. “I do cook, now. I have a baby to feed. I had to learn.”

“So, what now?” I asked. “Are you going to hold me hostage here?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m feeling like a swim. You up for it?”

“I forgot my trunks,” I said. “You didn’t mention we were going for a boat ride.”

“Remember when you took me canoeing on Labor Day the first year we were married?” she asked.

I did remember it. It was pretty memorable. We’d stopped at a gravel bar for lunch. She’d stripped and enticed me into the water. We wound up making love, first on the blanket, and then with her bent over the canoe we’d turned upside down on the bank. “Sara, I don’t think…” I started.

She stood and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. My throat was dry and I took a swig from my water bottle. She pulled the tails of her blouse open and those phenomenal breasts were displayed in all their glory. I was right; she didn’t have on a bra. They were just as mouthwatering as the last time I’d seen them. More so, I believe. They looked bigger. They were still perfectly shaped globes, sitting high and proud on her chest. The tops were sprinkled with the freckles I remembered so well, fading to a clear creamy white. Her nipples were erect, cherry colored bullets, topping areolae that were a little puffy, forming miniature peaks of their own. I licked my lips and she laughed, sending ripples bouncing through the heavy mounds.

“I see you still like them,” she said, glancing down at the rising lump in my shorts. She was joking, of course.

Sara exudes more sensuality than it is possible to describe. Everything about her just screams sensual in foot high neon letters. She’s gorgeous, but that’s not it. She has the ability to make men into fools. We’re pretty much fools when it comes to women, anyway, but Sara is in her own class. The first time we went out was on her eighteenth birthday. I took her dancing and gave her the jade dagger. She moves like a cat, lithe, sinuous, gliding as her weight shifts. She got up at one point and danced for me, just standing by our booth.

Two guys were walking past about five feet from where she was dancing. They had both seen her when they were about twenty feet away. They couldn’t take their eyes off her. They walked toward each other, so hypnotized by Sara’s dance that they crashed into each other, sending them both sprawling on the floor. That’s the effect she has. That’s with her clothes on.

All the time we dated and all the time we were married, friends, strangers, people at the gas station, all asked me who she was. When they discovered she was my girlfriend or wife, they asked inappropriate questions or made stupid comments. “Is she as good as she looks? You’re tapping that? Damn, dude, how did you get that?” It never ended. At first, it offended me and I told them to shut the fuck up. After the thousandth time, I just ignored them. I would have been in a fight every day of my life if I hadn’t just passed it off.

The amazing thing was she didn’t give a damn. Sure, she knew the effect she had, but she didn’t particularly care for it. That lush body held all that promise and excitement but I was the one that got to unwrap it. The new decoration in her navel seemed to tell me that had changed.

The first time we made love was a spiritual experience for me. The feel of her was otherworldly. She was soft as a kitten, but steel underneath. She worked out religiously, and it showed. She started slowly. She loved foreplay, but sex was a little painful for her, the first couple of times. She was so tight and so incredibly exotic that I’m afraid I didn’t give her time to really get into it. The third time, I knew it was coming and I got hard in the shower before our date just thinking about it. Stroking myself off in the shower before our date relieved a little of the excitement and I got her off twice with my mouth before sliding into all that tightness and heat. She was ready, dripping wet and flushed with excitement, her face showing that slack look of prolonged sexual arousal. I stroked her, slowly at first and then bringing her up to a boil. When she reached her peak I slowed, leaving her straining there for long minutes before plunging into her, taking her over the edge and she screamed out her ecstasy, cumming, writhing, bridging up against me as I pounded into her.

She never looked back, becoming a dynamic, aggressive lover, initiating sex as often as I did, coming into the full promise of that luscious body and becoming a sexual partner that most people would have trouble imagining. I shook my head to get rid of those memories. I had to nip this in the bud.