BY NINA © 2003 - 2007 WITH PERMISSION TO MYSECRETOBSESSION.COM
It was so different this time. I opened my arms for her and her nakedness melted into me. Her body seemed to vibrate gently, like a cat purring, and her eyes locked with mine for several precious moments before we kissed. There was no money, no worrying, no acting, no times, arrangements, negotiations, or "what do you want to do?". I didn't feel like I had to fill a lifetime of fantasy in one overnight stay. I had done that already.
Now, it was just the sweetness of our togetherness. Now, it was affection, tenderness, and desire.
My body remembered her, and hers me. When we finally took a break to speak, I found myself nestled against her breast, kissing the soft, pliant flesh. I was anointed with her juices, having just climbed out from between her thighs. Lying sideways, I had buried my face deep in her secrets, imprisoned happily by her legs, and devoured her. In our sideways "69", she had done the same.
I looked up at her.
"How can you be sure?" I asked her quietly. "You really haven't known me that long."
She looked down only for a moment, and replied so assuredly. "Everything was different with you, from the moment we started making love that day. Your wanting things, spontaneously, the way you asked for them, so unafraid... that was everything I've been looking for in a lover. And then," she said, her face breaking into a smile, "you fulfilled a fantasy of mine, a strong one, in a way that no one has ever come close to doing. It was like you understood everything I needed."
I smiled back. "The spanking."
She nodded, and both of us shared a giggle, remembering it.
"And maybe it wasn't just the way that worked," she went on, her fingers playing with strands of my silver hair. "But the way everything worked. Not just the sex. I mean, doing that act with Brian and Gina was actually fun, because it was for you. And then, I liked them, too, and I felt privileged to be part of your family situation, even after I found out what it was. Susan, I was actually happy to be Raquel, the massage therapist."
I laughed and shook my head. "That was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen, that performance."
She smiled, but she was trying to explain something important, I could tell. "Yeah... but I was happy that Gina liked me. And happy that you were happy. Damn, I've never been so freakin' happy with a client. And that's the thing-by that time, you were long past being a client. We did so much, and spent so much good, hanging out time together too, you know? Playing in the pool, and all that, I was like, 'I'm working?'"
She was right. We covered an awful lot of ground in that time, and none of it was forced. Once I had gotten the ball rolling with the phone call, it felt like somehow, all of this was supposed to happen. I felt like I would have met Raquel in some other circumstance, and ended up under the blanket, eating pizza and watching TV with her. It was like fate, which had been pretty cruel to me recently, decided I deserved a gift. I looked at her, and let her voice resonate in my head. What a gift she was.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" I asked.
Waking up next to Raquel profoundly different than anything I've ever experienced. She was still sleeping, on her side, turned away from me. I gently stroked her exposed shoulder, and then placed a kiss on her collarbone. I felt her body stir, and I kissed her again, my lips now below her earlobe, pressed against silky hair and skin that was warm with her pulse.
She said nothing, only parted her lips to breathe, and nodded ever so slightly. It was such a beautiful reaction!
I slid my hand down, then over, and played with her breasts while my kisses on her neck continued. Finally, she let out a long, soft moan, and reached back to caress my side, down to my hip. I pressed closer to her, my mound snug up against her buttock. I marveled at my own silver hair, draped on her naked skin.
She amazed me then, waking up so rapidly it was if an alarm clock went off. She turned over and almost dove into my embrace, her mouth on mine in rapacious thirst. Our bodies writhed against one another and as we kissed, she ground her clit against my pelvis. It was like I knew just what to do then, like a detailed guide to her body and her needs had fallen open in my lap-I wet my finger and reached behind her, letting it wiggle down into her crack, teasing her puckered hole. I sensed she wanted it, and she told me my instinct was right: she nodded as she continued our kiss, humming "mm-hmm" and she threw her leg over my hip to open herself wider.
In heated delight, I pushed my finger into the pinched, rubbery opening and felt it suck my finger in hungrily. A tremulous moan escaped from her throat as my finger went in. She thrashed against me as the dawn bathed us in soft light, our mouths fused, my finger plugged into her body, and her climax blossomed in waves of goosebumps and squeals.
I was so enchanted with her passion that I didn't even consider my own pleasure. As her aftershocks subsided, she looked into my eyes with a gleam of excitement and slid down on my body until her face was at my tummy. Then she looked up and said, "Where's your pancreas?"
"Some massage therapist you are," I teased. "It's about two inches above your left eye." She glanced there, smiled softly and brought her mouth up and to the left two inches. Then she placed a long soft, kiss, there, and kept kissing there for almost five full minutes. She would lift her head, look at the spot, massage it gently with her hand, and then kiss again, pressing. Once, I flinched when she pressed too hard.
"Does it hurt?"
"Only a little, sometimes. But don't stop, it feels good."
After a while, she moved her kisses lower, bathing my bellybutton, and drawing her lips over my pubis. Moments later, her face was all over my sex. I drew my legs up around her and let her ravish me until I my own climaxes seized me. They only intensified each time she "mmm"-ed, like she was enjoying a sweet dessert.
Breakfast, which I was used to having at about 7:30 every morning, was a little late.
For the next several days, Raquel came to me, at different times. Some times we would just sit out by the pool and talk. Other times, she would leap into my arms, and we would tear at each other's clothes, wanting each other so much that we once ended up making love the living room floor, not able to wait for a bed. Every time we made love, though, she would do that same kissing ritual on my abdomen. She seemed to enjoy it, and she had learned the right pressure to use, so there was no pain. It became like her trademark, before she went down on me, and some times on the way up. Who was I to complain?
And a couple of times, we went shopping, or went to lunch. The spectre of her mysterious job always lingered in the shadows, at silent odds with both of us. She would get a page, or a call, and then have to leave, apologizing each time. I said nothing about it, and just put it out of my mind. What was I to say? That I didn't like her being a call girl? She was a call girl before she met me. And she'd be one after... after I was gone.
Then, sitting on my patio one evening, sipping a glass of wine, looking out over the pool and a cascade of brilliant, magenta bougainvillas, an amazing thing happened.
She answered her cell phone, and said, "Angie, I'm not available. As a matter of fact, put me out of rotation for the next couple of months ok? Yes, I'm fine... yes, I know you need me... thanks, I appreciate that... no... I just need to take care of some important family stuff... we'll see... thanks Angie... I will... thanks... bye."
I stared at her. "Forgive me for prying, but that sounds like you're not an on call Angel anymore."
She responded with a shrug and a clink of my glass against hers. "That's pretty accurate."
"I just thought it was time for a vacation," she said, looking away, at the explosion of color along my fence line.
"My cruise is coming up," I remembered just then. "speaking of vacations."
She looked over at me. "Nine days, right?"
Nine days now seemed like a huge chunk of time. "Yes." For the first time, I had second thoughts about the cruise. Nine days without her. Now I didn't want to miss a day.
Raquel leaned her head against my shoulder. "I'll miss you. Want me to watch the house? I don't mind."
"No, I've got someone to do that.You just took two months off from work, right?"
"Want to hop on a ship with me for nine days?"
Her head came up, mouth open, and eyes wide. "Are you serious?
"Yes, come with me."
Neither one of us cared about the cost, the time, any of it. She hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I will. Thank you."
I looked at Raquel, and my eyes filled with tears of awe. This beautiful young woman was happy, because she was going to be with me.
"It's interesting," Stanford Rosenfeld said, shuffling a stack of ultra-sound readouts and other data. "Real interesting."
"Enough with the interesting, Stan. What does it mean? I die in ten months instead of six? What?"
My oncologist looked at me, ignoring the gallows humor. "You said your pains hadn't increased much lately, right?"
"Right. I mean, when we stopped the chemo, they got bad for a couple of days, and then... well, a couple of weeks ago, they started coming and going."
"Coming and going," he repeated.
"C'mon, give me your super-oncologist assessment. What does it mean, anything?"
"I'm really not sure, Susan. By this time, I fully expected to see some aggressive metastasis. Commonly, the liver is the next lily pad it wants to jump to."
Great, I have a killer frog in my gizzards.
"But it's kind of stopped. In fact," he said, shaking a balding head, "it's retreated somewhat."
"Retreated? To where?"
"I mean the tumor and the spots we have seen are... smaller." He shrugged.
Before I could react to that, he stood up, then sat on the edge of his desk, closer to me.
"Let me ask you--have you changed anything in the last three weeks? I mean, change in diet, increased exercise--"
"No. I've been doing the same thing you told me would help prolong my life. Eating more nutritiously... exercising more, taking vitamins, trying to keep a positive attitude, that stuff."
He stared at me, and it was almost unnerving.
"You're looking at me real funny, Stan, and it's making me nervous."
He got up, and walked to his bookshelf, and gestured to the books. "Susan, what we know about cancer could fill this room. What we don't know about cancer could probably fill a football stadium, and then some."
"I believe that, no offense to your profession. Thanks for being honest about it."
"Look, there's a whole school of thought out there that believes in all kinds of holistic healing. Yoga, meditation, all kinds of things like that, which some people say slow the mutation of cells and thwarts the spread of cancer, etc."
I kept quiet, and thought of Raquel's long, loving kisses on my abdomen.
"As a physician, I'm not supposed to say those things work. But some enchancements of well-being..." he shook his head slowly in a search for the right words, "... can't be counted out... something that enhances the spirit, maybe even prayer, maybe..."
"Love?" I said hopefully.
He stopped, turned and looked at me.
"I don't mean puppy love," I clarified. "I'm talking about liberating love, where you get fulfilled, where there seem to be no limits to things like exploration, passion, sexual intimacy. That kind of love."
My, how the spectre of death can supercharge one's freedom of speech. I was impressed with myself.
Dr. Stanford Rosenfeld raised an eyebrow at my sudden cornucopia on the subject of amor. Then, he smiled, and tilted his head.
"Have you find such a love, Susan?"
I looked at him for a second or two, wondering if I should, as they say these days, "go there."
"Yes, I think I have. A little late, I aren't I?"
"Maybe better late than never," the good doctor offered.
"I'm beginning to think so."
He loosened up, and for a moment, the whole doctor-patient attitude that Stan always had trouble shaking was gone. "That's wonderful, Susan, I'm really happy for you."
"Thanks." Just don't start asking questions.
He plopped back in his chair and loosened his tie. "And, to answer your question, yes. Love. Maybe the most powerful force on earth."
"Do you believe that? Do you believe that things like love, prayer, spiritual energy... all those things can heal the body?"
"You didn't hear this from me, if anyone ever-"
"Oh drop the diplomas and certificates from the wall for a minute Stan. It's me, Susan, and I'm the one with my head in the goddam guillotine. Just answer me... I'm asking you, Stan Rosenfeld, the very bright guy who looks inside my body, talks to me, and tells me important stuff. Answer me."
He looked at me through steepled fingers, then nodded. "Yes, I do. I do believe it."
A felt an aura around me, a thick band of humming energy, warming me. I wanted to go to Raquel as soon as possible, hug her, kiss her, have her give me hickies on my abdomen. Even if it only meant living a couple more months, with less pain.
"When is our next appointment?"
"Take your cruise," he said, looking at the calendar, "then let's have another look. I want to increase the ultra-sounds to once a week."
He got up and saw me to the door. "Fulfillment, exploration, liberation, and unlimited sexual intimacy, huh?"
"All that, and more," I said, blushing as he opened the door for me.
"Bring this guy in on your next visit. I have to meet him. He must be something."
I nodded and smiled. "You'll be impressed," I assured him.